The city had stopped burning by dawn, but it hadn't stopped dying.
Ash floated through the air like snow, coating the shattered world in a blanket of grey. Aria stood at the edge of the ruined apartment, staring out through a blown-out window. The skyline she'd known all her life was now crooked and broken, like the ribs of a fallen beast.
Beside her, Elias tightened the straps of a worn backpack. "We move now."
She didn't answer immediately. She was still listening—not for danger, but for anything. A car engine. A voice. A helicopter.
There was nothing.
Just the wind whispering over dead buildings.
They descended the crumbling stairwell in silence. Each step creaked under their weight, echoing too loudly in the still morning. Aria kept her knife drawn.
When they reached the street, the air was thick with smoke and silence. No crows. No traffic. Just the ruins, and the unsettling scent of charred metal and blood.
Elias led them westward, weaving through debris and husks of cars. He didn't speak much. Aria didn't press him. But her mind raced.
What were those things? What had happened to her world in less than twenty-four hours? And why did Elias seem to know so much—yet say so little?
They passed a park where tents had been set up, likely by survivors in the early hours of collapse. Now, the tents flapped in the breeze, torn and stained. Bodies lay scattered, some too mangled to look human anymore.
Aria swallowed hard. "How far is this place you're taking us to?"
"If we keep a good pace, we reach the safe point by nightfall," he replied. Then added, "If it's still standing."
That 'if' hung heavy between them.
She stopped walking. "You keep talking about this place like it's a real haven. But what if it's gone too? What if there's nothing left?"
He turned. His gaze met hers, calm but sharp. "Then we move again. We don't stop. We survive."
Aria held that gaze for a long moment, then nodded. It was all she could do.
They moved on.
By midday, they were in the industrial sector—warehouses, factories, and alleys choked with shadows. The silence here was worse. It pressed against her chest like a weight. Even Elias moved slower.
Suddenly, he stopped.
Aria crouched instinctively. "What is it?"
He pointed ahead, toward a narrow alley that cut between two collapsed buildings.
Voices.
Two. Maybe three. Aria strained to hear.
"Check that dumpster. They stash supplies there."
She froze.
Not monsters. People.
Elias held up a hand, gesturing for silence. Then, to her surprise, he whispered, "We go around."
Aria blinked. "You said survivors were rare. Shouldn't we try to talk to them?"
"Not all survivors are worth talking to," he said grimly. "Especially now."
She hesitated, but followed.
As they looped through a back alley, a gunshot cracked through the air. Aria ducked reflexively. A second shot rang out. Screams followed.
They ran.
They didn't look back.
They finally stopped in the husk of an old bookstore. Aria collapsed behind the counter, chest heaving. Elias paced by the broken front windows, watching the street.
"Bandits?" she asked breathlessly.
He nodded. "That's what the world turns into when there's no one left to enforce laws. People revert."
Aria leaned back against the wall. The adrenaline was fading, and in its place came fear. Not just of monsters or ruins, but of the people who had survived alongside her.
Elias tossed her a granola bar from his pack. "Eat."
She stared at it. "Where did you get these supplies?"
He gave a humorless smile. "I was a prepper before all this. Had a bunker outside the city. But I came back when it hit."
"Why?"
His smile faded. "Because my sister was here. She didn't make it."
Silence.
Aria felt a cold knot in her stomach. She thought of her father again, of the empty apartment and the torn family photo she'd stuffed into her coat.
She wanted to ask more, but something in Elias's expression said not now.
So she ate in silence.
When the sun dipped low, painting the broken skyline in orange and gold, Elias stood.
"We move again. Come on. We're almost there."
As they stepped back into the dying light, Aria felt something shift in her. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was grief. Or maybe it was the way Elias glanced at her—not with softness, but with respect.
He didn't see a girl clinging to hope.
He saw a survivor.
And somehow, that made her feel stronger.
They walked into the dusk, two shadows clinging to each other in a world that had forgotten the light.