"The gods play their games,
mortals pay their price."

   SHE REMEMBERED when the world burned. Cities crumbled into rust with nothing but rot on the horizon. What was once civilisation became nothing more than a memory smothered in ash. The sky, once blue and endless, split open like a wound. Fire poured from it, swallowing buildings, forests, oceans—whole histories—until nothing was left but char and silence. For over a year, the flames clung to the heavens like a jagged scar that refused to heal. It was a cruel reminder of all they had lost. Of how small and helpless humanity truly was beneath the sun's wrath.

But even in the aftermath, life clawed its way forward.

Dawn bled slowly over the hilltops, casting the village in hues of bruised gold and grey. She woke to the cry of a morning dove and the creak of the wooden floor beneath her mother's feet. The air was cold, sharp with pine sap, thick with the scent of damp soil and wood smoke. Somewhere nearby, someone had started a fire, and the smell of burning cedar curled in through the cracks in the walls.

She remembered the way her hand fit into her mother's, small and warm and safe. They walked the narrow alleys of the village together, their footsteps muffled by the wet earth. The village itself was a patchwork of survival: crooked walls patched with tarp, slanted roofs weighed down with stones, logs blackened from rain and wind, and dried mud caked along every edge. It wasn't pretty, but it stood.

A breeze passed through the alley, carrying with it the scent of frying eggs, old oil, and something sweet. Her stomach growled loudly in response. Her mother glanced down at her, amused, eyes soft despite the weariness etched into the corners.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she asked. "Pancakes and sausages?"

Soyun didn't answer right away. Instead, she looked up at her mother's face, at the fine lines etched by time and worry, the tired smile that still found its way through, and the quiet strength in her eyes. Love clung to her like armour, soft yet unyielding. In a world that had lost everything, this—her mother's presence—was what remained.

Finally, Soyun nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. Pancakes and sausages were her favourites. As they walked toward the Central Shack, her thoughts drifted. Maybe the boy from yesterday would be there again. She had been horrendously bored before he appeared, but he had promised to play with her. She hoped he would keep his word.

"Is Dad going out into the forest again today?" she asked.

Her mother hummed distractedly. "I think so, honey."

They had just turned the corner when Soyun spotted her new friend outside the wooden log house. She broke into a grin and ran to him, slapping both his hands in a double high-five. The boy was around her age—maybe a year older—with messy hair and a sunburned nose. He had only arrived in their village a few weeks ago with his grandmother. Their old settlement had burned down. Everyone who survived had to relocate.

"Have you eaten yet?" Soyun asked him.

He shook his head. "I was waiting for you."

Her grin widened until it hurt. Together, they darted into the Central Shack, grabbing plates and shovelling breakfast down with eager mouths. Her mother was already deep in conversation with Aunt Lana about the day's tasks. The two had worked side by side long before the sun flares, her mother a doctor and Aunt Lana a nurse. Then there was Uncle Alec, her father's best friend from their time in the military. Soyun used to count the medals her father brought home, tracing the stars and eagles with her fingers. He had shelves full of model planes and jet fighters they built together, piece by piece.

When they were done eating, the two children bolted for the door. Soyun nearly crashed into her father as he stepped inside. He caught her easily and ruffled her hair, laughing.

"Don't wander off too far, okay?" he said. "There are bears out there."

"We won't!" she promised, already halfway out the door.

But just as she stepped outside, a roar split the sky.

At first, she thought it was thunder. But the sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. The rumbling deepened, louder and heavier, until the ground trembled beneath her feet. People looked up. Some froze, others squinted against the sunlight. Her parents rushed out of the Shack, followed by Aunt Lana and Uncle Alec.

The sun pierced her eyes as a massive airship descended overhead, blotting out the sky like an eclipse. Its engines howled, thrusters glowing with blinding blue heat as it hovered above the village square. Soyun stared, awestruck. It looked like something out of a movie. She recognised it from the model replica her father had made years ago.

"It's a Berg..." she whispered to the boy beside her.

"Whoa, that's cool," he breathed.

Around them, the square erupted into noise—some voices rising with hope, others tight with fear. The airship groaned, a deep metallic grind echoing across the village as a wide hatch creaked open. Mist spilled from the doorway, thin and ghostlike, curling through the air in pale ribbons. Soyun squinted, trying to make out what lay beyond the shadows.

Then figures stepped out, dressed in bright green rubber suits, faces hidden behind glossy masks.

She took a step closer. The figures held strange guns in their hands. One of them turned toward her. A hollow thunk cracked the air. She heard her mother scream her name,  felt arms wrap tightly around her. In the next instant, her mother collapsed with a dart jutting from her neck. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Shouts followed. And then—chaos.

Soyun dropped to her knees. "Mum?" she whispered, shaking her gently. "Mum?" But her mother didn't wake.

All around her, people screamed and ran. Yelling and pushing each other, trying to get away from the airship as shot after shot whistled through the air. She searched the crowd for her father, or Aunt Lana, but everything was a blur.

Then—through the confusion, the panic—a hand found hers.

   The next thing she remembered was the sound of her weary feet beating against scorched, barren earth. Her legs burned, lungs heaving as deranged screams echoed behind them—inhuman and guttural, gaining ground with every step. Sweat stung her eyes, and she wiped it away with the back of a grimy hand. Her dark hair clung to her neck and cheeks, her shallow breaths choking her in the feverish heat.

The air sizzled with dread, shadows swallowed them whole as they ducked into an underpass. The sky vanished behind them, replaced by low concrete and muted silence. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Shapes moved in the distance, shuffling bodies weaving through the maze of abandoned cars that lined the tunnel. The stench of rot was thick, almost tangible.

In the next heartbeat, glass exploded. Shards sliced through the air, pelting her skin. Something slammed into her side and yanked her down. She hit the pavement hard, her skin scraping against the rough cement. Clawed hands—filthy, ragged, desperate—raked across her skin. She screamed, thrashing wildly to break free.

"Have you seen her?" a woman shrieked, face gaunt, eyes bloodshot with madness. "Have you seen my daughter? She looked just like you!"

The hysteria turned to gurgled gasps and warm, wet breath splashed against Soyun's face. The woman was ripped away, and a hand reached out to pull her up. She staggered as she found herself upright again. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Blood coated her tongue, and nausea surged in her throat.

"Go! Hurry!" her father's voice rang out just as another inhuman scream pierced the dark.

Her pulse accelerated with agonising frequency as she was pushed forward, into the arms of the boy ahead of them. He grasped her hand and pulled. They sprinted down the tunnel, the world reduced to rusted metal, chipped paint, and shadows. For a fleeting moment, she remembered cruising down wispy prairie roads, the wind whipping through her hair, the sea glittering like a million diamonds on the horizon.

She remembered a time of warmth, freedom, and hope, things she couldn't afford to remember now. The vivid memories vanished as quickly as they came, replaced by reality. She could see a burst of sunlight at the end of the tunnel, and she pushed herself harder, pumping her feet against the debris-encrusted ground.

"We're almost there—!" the boy cried, only to skid to a halt.

An old cargo truck blocked their path.

"C-Come on!" Soyun gasped, hauling herself up the side, fingers scrambling for purchase.

Her father caught up just seconds later, lifting them both onto the roof. His face was bloodied, streaked with fresh cuts and bruises. The boy's hand wrapped around hers, his grip firm but urgent, pulling her up with him. His face was set with determination, but his eyes betrayed the fear beneath. They turned to help her father when he let out a strangled cry. His fingers slipped from the edge, and she saw a group of infected swarming beneath his feet. A knife jutted from his back.

"No, Dad!" she cried, locking her hands around his arm, holding on with everything she had. Her small fingers trembled, her grip already failing.

"Soyun... Soyun." Her father looked at her pleadingly, as if begging her for forgiveness. "Daddy loves you."

In the next moment, he had slipped from her grasp and plunged down into the depths of the tunnel below. Everything went still, her breath escaped her throat into a stunned silence. For a split second, time seemed to stretch impossibly thin. Her body went numb, and she couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

Then her scream shattered the silence—sharp, unrelenting, and raw. She lurched forward, but the boy's arms yanked her back. Her world spun as they tumbled over the truck's edge. Then they hit the ground hard, the impact sending a jolt through her body and knocking all the breath from her lungs. Her vision swam as she opened her eyes with a groan.

"Soyun! Get up, we need to go!" the boy called as he tugged on her shirt anxiously.

There was no time to mourn. No time to grieve. Laughter echoed loudly from the tunnel behind them, and only one thought echoed in her mind: survive. She scrambled to her feet and grasped his warm hand, spurring them both into a run.

Once they had put distance between them and the infected, her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground. An anguished sob broke from her lips as tears streamed down her face. Her body shook as the weight of loss crashed over her like a wave. The sun set behind her, its golden glow spilling across a ruined world that she could no longer be a part of. She felt as though her heart had shattered into a million pieces, her trembling hands failing to hold together the fragments of her life.

"Daddy loves you." The words kept resounding in her head over and over again.

   And the last thing she remembered was darkness.