The Alleyway

Downpour pounded the substantial wilderness, each drop a little drumbeat against the filthy material of the back street. In the glinting neon sparkle from a close by club, Felix crouched underneath a worn out sheet of creased metal, shuddering regardless of the smothering intensity of the sticky evening. Hunger distressed his stomach, a dependable friend in this substantial labyrinth he called home.

Felix had been ten when the city gulped down him. Stranded by the conflict, he'd stuck to his more youthful sibling Leo, frantic to safeguard him from the cruel real factors of road life. Be that as it may, Leo, with his perky soul and unlimited trust, didn't have an opportunity. He was grabbed one evening, gulped by the underside of the city, leaving Felix with a vast opening in his heart and a deep longing for vengeance.

This evening, the back street murmured with a surprising energy. Men, their appearances concealed in murkiness, traded quieted words, their adds winding up and out of the shadows like apparitions. One figure, taller and more extensive than the rest, arose out of the shadows, his voice unforgiving: "The shipment shows up this evening. Keep in mind, this is perfect. No observers."

Felix, his interest provoked, looked out from his shoddy sanctuary. He'd took in the most difficult way possible never to engage in the city's shadowy dealings, yet the notice of a shipment pulled at a string of trust. Perhaps, quite possibly, it was something he could utilize, something to exchange, something to get a lead on Leo.

The men scattered, dissolving once more into the shadows. As the downpour loosened, Felix arose, his worn out garments gripping to his thin casing. He explored the rear entryway, his heart beating in his chest. A solitary figure stayed, inclining casually against a wall. He was youthful, scarcely more established than Felix, yet his face held an exhaustion past his years.

"Searching for something, kid?" The young fellow's voice was gravelly, bound with suspicion.

Felix gulped his apprehension. "I heard there's a shipment. Perhaps you dropped something?"

The young fellow grunted, a stuffy sound. "This ain't a game, kid. You ought not be here."

Felix wouldn't be stopped. "I want something significant. Anything."

The young fellow appeared to evaluate him, his look waiting on the distress scratched across Felix's face. At long last, he moaned. "See, there's a pack close to the dumpster. In any case, take my recommendation, leave."

Reluctantly, Felix moved toward the dumpster, its rank smell making him wrinkle his nose. Settled among the disposed of scraps lay a ragged calfskin bag. Interest fighting with alert, he got it, the weight heavier than he anticipated. He loosened the locks, his breath getting in his throat.

Inside, settled among sparkling gems, lay a ragged, calfskin bound book. Its pages were loaded up with mind boggling images and charts, not at all like anything Felix had at any point seen. A weird energy radiated from the book, a draw he was unable to stand up to. He tucked it inside his improvised garments, his heart beating with a combination of dread and energy.

He said thanks to the young fellow, who basically snorted accordingly prior to vanishing once more into the shadows.

Back in his shoddy safe house, Felix poured over the book by the radiance of a glinting lighter. The images appeared to move before his eyes, their importance tantalizingly too far. He went through the late evening poring over the pages, a feeling of trust sprouting in his chest. Perhaps, quite possibly, this book was the way to tracking down Leo, the way to breaking liberated from the tireless hold of the road.

Days transformed into weeks, every dawn bringing a reestablished feeling of direction. Felix went through his days attempting to translate the book, his evenings looking for anybody who could perceive the images. He wandered into libraries, his battered garments drawing inquisitive looks, however the custodians offered no responses, their countenances scratched with a combination of pity and disdain.

At some point, while scavenging through a dusty secondhand store shop, he met an elderly person, her eyes shimmering with an ever-enduring insight. He showed her the book, his heart beating in his chest. The lady's eyes enlarged as she perceived the images.

"This," she murmured, her voice shaking with energy, "is the language of the failed to remember ones, gatekeepers of failed to remember information."

Trust erupted in Felix's chest. At long last, a lead. The lady, who presented herself as Elara, made sense of the book contained guidelines for a custom, a method for getting to a secret domain, a domain where the failed to remember ones lived. This domain, she guaranteed, held the solutions to numerous secrets, maybe even the response to tracking down his sibling.

However, the admonitions chilled Felix deep down. The custom was perilous, and the results of disappointment were desperate. However, the possibility of Leo, his grin always scratched in his memory, filled his determination. He needed to attempt.

Elara turned into his aide, showing him the