The city ruins were quieter than usual.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet—the kind that presses against the skin like a thick fog, the kind that hums with the threat of something lurking just beyond the veil of silence. Ember's boots made soft crunching sounds over layers of shattered glass and crumbling asphalt as she walked ahead of the group, leading them through what remained of an old commercial district.
Streetlights jutted out at odd angles. Signs dangled by threads of rusted metal. A billboard advertising some pre-apocalypse energy drink swayed in the wind, groaning like a tired animal.
"We shouldn't stay here too long," whispered Jonah, gripping his rifle tight.
Ember didn't respond immediately. Her focus was on a collapsed tower up ahead—half-sunken into the street, creating a jagged ravine they'd need to cross. She stopped beside a rusted car and raised her hand.
"Take cover," she ordered.
The others dropped low. Silence again.
Then came the sound—a faint, rhythmic clacking.
Not footsteps.
Not breathing.
Claws. On concrete.
Jonah met her eyes. "Crawler?"
"No," Ember murmured. "Too slow… too deliberate."
They waited. The noise grew louder. From around the crumbled husk of a café, a figure emerged.
Human. Barefoot. Gaunt.
But something was wrong.
Its head tilted at an unnatural angle, as if listening to music only it could hear. Its skin was a patchwork of ash and soot, veins glowing dimly beneath as though lit from within by embers.
"Ashbound," Ember muttered.
Elara's breath caught in her throat. "I thought they were extinct…"
"No. Just evolved." Ember slowly stood. "Weapons ready, but don't fire unless it sees us."
But the Ashbound did see them. Its head snapped in their direction with a jolt, its eyes glowing with a dull red light. Then—it smiled.
Not a human smile.
A knowing smile.
Before Ember could react, it opened its mouth—not to scream or roar—but to whisper.
And the world around them shifted.
Reality bent. The street twisted like a ribbon. Jonah fell to his knees, clutching his temples, screaming.
"What the hell is this?!" Elara cried out, blood dripping from her nose.
Ember gritted her teeth. Her vision warped, buildings stretching and pulsing like living things.
Then, as quickly as it came, the effect faded.
The Ashbound was gone.
Jonah vomited beside a rusted bus. Elara slumped against a wall, pale and trembling. Ember felt sweat pouring down her back, her heart hammering in her chest.
"That… wasn't just psychic," she gasped. "That was… reality manipulation."
Elara shook her head. "How is that even possible? Even the Reapers don't have that ability."
Ember didn't answer. Her eyes were locked on the space where the Ashbound had stood. A single black feather floated there, impossibly slow. She caught it—and as her fingers closed around it, a voice echoed in her mind:
"Beneath the ashes, the world still burns. Come find me, Ember Vale."
She dropped the feather like it had scalded her.
Jonah looked up. "What did it say?"
Ember hesitated. "It knows me. Somehow."
Later that night, the group found a shelter beneath the ruins of a subway station. The entrance was hidden by debris, but Elara's drone had picked up signs of residual heat. Inside, they found a surprisingly intact command post—military bunk beds, ration boxes, even a working terminal connected to an ancient battery rig.
Jonah slumped into a chair, exhausted. "I don't like this. That thing didn't act like the infected. It knew us."
"No," Ember corrected. "It knew me."
Elara frowned. "You think it was following you?"
"I think it was waiting."
She approached the terminal, flicked a few switches, and to their surprise, the screen flickered on. Green code scrolled. A prompt appeared:
Welcome to Station X-97. Clearance Required.
Ember typed a few guesses. Denied.
Jonah stood behind her. "Try your full name."
She hesitated. Then typed:
EMBER VALE
Access granted.
The screen blinked, revealing files. Operation logs. Surveillance footage. Genetic data.
"Wait," Elara said slowly, leaning in. "This station… was monitoring you?"
Ember didn't answer. She clicked into a log titled Project Phoenix Directive: Subject E-14.
A video began to play.
An old man in a white lab coat stood before the camera.
"This is Dr. Henrik Vale. Date: July 12th, Year 0. Subject E-14 shows accelerated adaptive traits in response to the Ash Exposure Trials. Psychic latency is increasing exponentially…"
Elara gasped. "Wait—your father?"
Ember stared at the screen. Her voice was hollow. "He told me this was all destroyed. That he abandoned the project."
The video continued. Behind the doctor, a child could be seen. A little girl. Crying. Glowing eyes.
Ember.
Jonah stepped back. "You were part of the experiments."
"I was the experiment."
Silence filled the shelter.
The truth dropped between them like a bomb.
Elara finally broke the quiet. "That thing today—the Ashbound. Do you think it was one of the other subjects?"
Ember nodded slowly. "Or a result of one. Maybe we were never meant to survive. Maybe this world is just the fallout of experiments gone too far."
"But if you're linked to them," Jonah said carefully, "then maybe you're also the only one who can stop them."
She looked up. Her eyes no longer burned with vengeance alone.
Now, they burned with purpose.
"I'm not just going to survive this world," she said, voice steel. "I'm going to unmake it—and rebuild it right."
Outside, the wind howled across the dead city.
But deep beneath, a new fire had been lit.