The world didn’t end with fire. It went quiet. People cried blue, went strange, and then started tearing the rest of us apart.
Six has been moving ever since. No big plan. No big hope. Just miles of ruined backroads and a dog who refuses to leave his side.
Blue shouldn’t have survived this long. Some days Six isn’t sure he should have either.
There are things in the trees now. Shapes that don’t act right. Animals that watch like they’re waiting for something. Survivors who’ll kill you just to keep breathing one more day.
And through all of it, Six keeps seeing the same mark—the same twisted pattern left behind like a warning or a challenge.
He doesn’t know what it means. He’s not sure he wants to.
Survival used to be keep your head down, keep moving, trust nobody. Now even that feels like it’s changing.
Out here, the only rule left is What follows you is worse than what chases you.