Rain hammered around them. Another storm, this one would hopefully pass quickly.
In that moment, Rantia did not feel the rain smacking into her shoulders and soaking her clothes. She was lost in her memories, of happier times, of a home that was full of love and joy and wonder.
“You ready?” Veran’s voice crackled over the mike in Rantia’s ear.
Ranita placed her gloved hand on the handle of the door. It was broken, the door was already hanging off its hinges, but she did it anyway. A sign of respect.
They had searched for so long for this place. The place that Rantia could barely remember apart from the feelings of joy.
Now it was derelict. The roof had caved in with the force of the storms. The windows were smash, some even boarded up. Ranita wondered who had done that.
But coming back here would give her clues. Clues as to why her father had left. Clues as to why she could not remember.
Clues that might save them all.
“Yes,” Rantia said, wrapping her hand around the door handle.
Then, she pushed the door open.
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