Author's Note:

4/28/15: READ ME! Effervescent is on a semi-hiatus. It will probably not be updated/revised until sometime this summer. Forgive me D:

4/10/15: Hello readers! Just as a heads up, in the coming weeks, I will be making extensive revisions to all chapters of Effervescent. I will let you know in my A/N's when each chapter has been updated.

Effervescent was my first fanfiction and while I'm proud of where it's gone so far (it's nowhere near complete), my writing style has changed drastically since I first started writing just a month and a half ago. For your sake, as well as my own, I think this is for the best :)

Now, some pre-reading info. I write this story with the intention of allowing people who have not played the game, to understand what's going on. Both main characters are OCs, but they interact with people from the Tower on a semi-regular basis. This story is more like, a somewhat 'original' fic that focuses on the relationship between two survivors in Harran. I mainly borrow the environment and the cast, but write my own plot/characters-though I do include the main plot points from the game. That may mean that this story is not for you, especially if you were looking for some main cast lovin'. Sorry to disappoint. I hope you give the story a chance anyway :) Enjoy!

Dying Light does not belong to me, it belongs to Techland. Creative fellows that they are.


The sun's hot rays beat down on me from the spaces between buildings. It was almost nightfall, past the point that could be called sunset. I needed to find shelter, a safe zone. I needed to get away from what was chasing me. I could hear its snarls and growls. It was too close. I sprinted in between the buildings, hoping for a ledge or awning I could use to pull myself up higher for a better view of the city. Of course, there weren't any. I took a hard left and almost tumbled down some stone steps, I was running so fast. I was now coming to the lower area of the Slums. I slowed to a stop, quickly planning my route out. A small river, if you could even call it that, was in front of me. There were what looked like ramshackle houses or buildings up ahead, past the river. I figured they would be my best bet and started to head across the bridge over the river. Suddenly, it grabbed my arm from behind. I wrenched my sleeve out of its grasp and attempted to take off into a run across the last thing I remembered was feeling its breath on my neck, the feel of its weight crushing me as we landed hard on the bridge. Then everything went black.

Three days later.


I felt like I had been hit by a train. No, ten trains. The pain was immense, even lying down as I was. All of my muscles ached, my bones protested as if I had aged fifty years overnight. I cracked my eyes open, immediately shutting them tightly again and simultaneously throwing my arm over them. Why was everything so bright? I tried to open them again, going even slower than before and allowing my eyes time to adjust to the light. If I had to judge by the brightness, I'd say it was sometime before noon. But wait, how had I remained safe until morning? Wasn't it sundown when I left the store I was raiding? Where was I?

I bolted upright and swung my head around, taking in my surroundings. Just because it was daylight did not mean I was safe. I was sitting on a bed with the thin sheets wrapped around my calves from swiveling my body around so quickly. The light was coming from in between the wooden boards covering the window across the room, opposite the bed. In fact, it was the only window in the room. Smart move, I thought to myself. To my right, next to the bed, there was a brown wooden nightstand. A glass of water, a clean roll of gauze and some alcohol sat on top of the table, next to a small lamp which was off at the moment. What was the gauze for? The floors were wide wooden planks and the walls were covered in green wallpaper, with white French styled patterns running vertically. Time had aged the soft green shade to a murky brown-green. The decor didn't tell me much about where I might be. All I could tell was that I was inside a house or building somewhere.

On the wall perpendicular to the end of the bed was a door that was currently closed. The last item of furniture that I visually inspected was a makeshift bookshelf adjacent to the door frame. It didn't have any books on the shelves. Instead there were various items I guess you could call weapons. A pipe, a wrench, a hammer, and what looked like saw blades and some string. No guns, I noticed. Perhaps that was a good thing. Guns were loud and loud noises drew Virals and Volatiles. I shuddered, thinking of the last thing I could remember. That had been too close. I vigorously shook my head, trying to clear it of those disturbing thoughts.

On the top shelf of the bookcase, there were a series of framed photographs neatly lined up with each other. I swung my legs up and over the edge of the bed and stood up, my muscles and joints groaning in protestation. Trying to make as little noise as possible, considering I still didn't know where I was or who brought me here, I shuffled across the room and headed towards the bookshelf to inspect the photos, hoping for a clue. There were five total and all five had the same people featured. A man who looked to be in his mid-twenties in the photo, was in the middle of almost all of them. He had light brown hair that was of medium length and wavy. It hit him at just above the tips of his ears and it looked like it would be soft to the touch. His face was smooth, as if he regularly shaved; perhaps for a job. He had an easy, affable smile. He looked...warm. Soothing, almost. The woman next to him in three of the five photos had a similar appearance in nature. She looked kind and homely, like the neighborhood mom who gave all kids Popsicles in the summer when they passed by her house. Though instead of being brunette, she had honey kissed blonde hair and a matching pair of baby blues. The man had his arm around her in most of the photos. If not a girlfriend, then a wife or perhaps a fiancee at the time? His left hand wasn't visible in any of the photos since the woman seemed to always stand to his right. A mystery left unsolved I suppose. I tucked that small tidbit of information in the back of my mind for later.

Before I could even so much as glance at the other two photos, the door to the room opened abruptly. I grabbed the closest weapon on the shelf, which happened to be the hammer, and quickly spun to my left with my arm raised and hammer ready. I felt a stinging pain near my left shoulder but it barely registered and I chose to ignore it in favor of the possible threat. The man in the photos had entered, though he looked considerably different. His soft hair was now wiry and dry and it was even longer than in the photos, swept back and ending pretty closely to his shoulders. Time had weathered his smooth face and he now sported a scruffy beard with a paired goatee, giving his face a hard edge. He had a unique aspect to his appearance. He was handsome, but in a way you didn't normally see. His height, which had been impossible to gauge in the photos but was now easily visible, looked to be about 6'1" which towered over my 5'3" frame. His build was much heavier now than in the photos as well. He looked to be around 200 pounds but most of that was lean muscle, which wasn't surprising considering the environment we all found ourselves in every day. He was wearing a simple dark gray t-shirt and stone washed jeans, paired with shoes similar in appearance to Timbalands. He was carrying a tray laden with various food items. There was also a bowl filled with steaming water and what looked like a tan colored type of tape; medical tape I assumed, remembering the gauze on the nightstand. I immediately backed up to the wall with my hand that was holding the hammer still raised. My muscles were screaming in pain at this point, but I refused to let it show to a stranger.

"Who are you?!" I demanded.

The man slowly walked across the room to the nightstand, setting the tray on top of it. Then he turned back to face me with his hands up in the air.

"Woah, slow down now. You wouldn't want to tear your stitches out. Although it looks like it might be too late for that." His voice trailed off and his stare had fixated pointedly on the spot between my left shoulder and neck.

"What?" I questioned, looking down at my shoulder.

There was a bandage taped to my skin that was slowly seeping through with blood. I shook my head, unable to process the image at the moment and turned quickly back to the man, "I asked who you were. I'd appreciate an answer."

He nodded in response, "Yeah, you did. But I haven't answered yet. The name's Luke. You're welcome for saving your life by the way, so I don't exactly appreciate the attitude."

I looked down, mollified by his tone of voice and comment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. I just...don't really remember what happened or how I got here. Or even meeting you, in fact."

Luke sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, close to the nightstand. He patted the spot next to him, implying that I should sit. Instead, I chose the spot as far across the bed from him as possible, closest to the door. You could never be too paranoid nowadays. He chuckled and turned his body to face me as I sat. "You're careful, that's good." I grunted in response.

He continued on, "Like I said, my name is Luke. Technically you haven't exactly met me yet. I saved you a few days ago when you were being chased by a biter, sometime towards sundown. Which was pretty stupid of you, but that's another topic for another time. Do you remember that?"

Now it was my turn to sigh. I reached my hand up and rubbed my temple, trying to jog my memory a bit more.

"I ...remember being out on a supply run. As I left the store I was raiding, a biter tried to grab me from behind and I bolted. I ran for awhile trying to lose him but he was a persistent son of a bitch. I remember trying to cross this river or stream between a bunch of makeshift houses in the Slums. I can't remember anything after that." Luke nodded again.

"That sounds about right. We're still in the Slums. I found you guys down by the bridge over the river. You were just out of the biter's reach and as he lunged for you, you both fell. I caught up to you then and took him out but you had knocked your head when you landed, which I'm guessing is why you were out for a few days. Oh and uh...because of that." He pointed at my neck, which had just started to throb in pain now that I knew about its presence.

"Yeah ...that. What exactly is it? Or do I even want to know?" I asked. Luke looked away towards the window and sighed again. I sighed in exasperation, "Could you stop doing that? It's getting on my nerves. It just makes me feel like you're constantly going to give me bad news. Just spit it out." I added, "Please." As an afterthought, thinking it might soften how harsh my demand had just been.

Luke looked back at me with an unreadable expression on his face, his blue eyes solemn even though they caught the light and seemed to glow. Even though experience had dimmed the warmth in them in comparison to the photos, I still found myself inexplicably drawn to him, leaning forward in anticipation of what he was about to say.

"Thats because I am about to give you bad news." He paused and looked down, interlacing his fingers. When he looked back up at me, my stomach dropped in anticipation. Considering the grim expression on his face, I pretty much knew what he was going to say. He took a deep breath and as he exhaled, he said,

"You were bitten."

A/N: Hope you guys liked it! Leave a review in the comment box below if you did, or didn't ;)