The city burned quietly. It was strange—almost gentle, if you didn't look too close. Embers floated in the air, drifting like tired old fireflies, sketching orange trails against a sky that had forgotten how to be blue. Franklin stood in the middle of the cracked street, still staring at the weird, see-through screen that had just blinked out of existence in front of him. Now, nothing but the stench of smoke and the distant, aching groans of buildings coming apart.
Silence wrapped around him. New York just wasn't supposed to be quiet. No horns. No people yelling. No subway rumble under his feet. Only the wind, and the slow, dry crackle of things dying.
He squeezed the pipe in his hand, knuckles white. It had some weight to it—enough to remind him he was still here. Cosmic energy, whatever the hell that meant, thrummed somewhere in his chest, but he was just a guy. Still just Franklin, trying to make it through.
Then—something. A sound, soft and uneven. Not the wind, not some monster. Footsteps.
He crouched, heart hammering. The Hell Hound's body smoked nearby, ribs poking up like blackened steel. Franklin scanned the street—overturned cars, glass everywhere, blood streaked across the broken asphalt. Then, movement.
Someone darted between two burnt-out cars, maybe thirty meters away. Too small for another Hound. Then another figure followed—taller, moving like they meant it.
Humans.
Franklin didn't think long. He yelled, "Hey! Wait—don't run!"
The taller one stopped cold. Neither moved for a second. Then a woman stepped out. She gripped a broken piece of rebar, holding it like she'd use it if she had to. Clothes ripped up, dust smeared everywhere, face streaked and tired—but alive. A little girl hid behind her, seven or eight, tangled hair, huge eyes, clutching a filthy backpack like it was gold.
Franklin lowered his pipe, hands up. "I'm not—whatever those things are. I'm human."
The woman glared. "You're bleeding."
He looked down. Sure enough, his shirt was slashed, but his skin? Not a scratch. "Not anymore," he said.
She narrowed her eyes. "That's not possible."
He managed a lopsided grin. "Yeah. Tell me about it."
The fire kept hissing in the distance. Nobody said anything until the woman let her makeshift spear dip—just a little. The girl peeked out, curiosity flickering through the fear.
"You killed that?" she asked, pointing at the Hound's ruined body.
Franklin shrugged. "Yeah. Barely."
The woman let out a breath she'd probably been holding for hours. "We've been hiding from one of those forever. Thought it was game over." She motioned the kid closer. "I'm Naomi. This is Ellie."
"Franklin," he said, nodding.
Naomi's gaze darted back to the monster, then him. "How'd you do it?"
He hesitated. How exactly do you tell someone about cosmic visions and floating menus when they're still hugging a piece of rebar for dear life? "Got lucky," he said.
She didn't buy it, not really, but she let it slide. "Lucky or not, you saved us."
Ellie tugged at her mom's sleeve. "Mom, he's glowing."
Naomi's eyes snapped to him. Franklin blinked, confused—and then he saw it. Little threads of pale light swirling around his arms, shimmering just at the edge of vision. He willed them away and, just like that, they disappeared.
"Guess that's new," he muttered.
Naomi didn't say anything, but her hand hovered near Ellie's shoulder. Franklin got it. If he were her, he'd be scared out of his mind too.
He looked up at the ruined skyline, smoke pouring into the sky. "We can't stay here. More of those things could show up."
Naomi nodded. "There's a grocery store two blocks west. We were hiding there until the roof started to go."
He motioned for her to lead. "Let's move."
They picked their way through the wreckage, careful, quiet. Ash fluttered down like dirty snow. Somewhere far away, a car alarm wailed and died. The city felt hollow, like somebody had scooped out its heart.
As they walked, Franklin started noticing things he hadn't before. The air shimmered where energy pooled, almost invisible. The ground pulsed beneath his boots, slow and steady, like the world's heartbeat. Aether—it was everywhere, humming just out of sight.
Naomi's voice snapped him back. "You're not military, are you?"
"No."
"So where'd you learn to fight something like that?"
He shook his head. "I didn't. I just… didn't want to die."
She gave a short, dry laugh. "Yeah. Same."
At the corner of a ruined intersection, Franklin motioned for them to hang back while he checked ahead. Nothing moved. Just wreckage and the kind of silence that feels wrong. He crept forward, senses stretched tight—every sound, every shadow felt sharp.
Halfway across, Ellie stopped dead. "Mom," she whispered, pointing at an overturned bus.
A growl rumbled out from under it—low, thick, ugly. Franklin felt it in his bones before he really heard it. Another Hell Hound.
"Run," he hissed.
Naomi grabbed Ellie and took off for the nearest alley. The monster exploded from beneath the bus, a mess of sparks and broken metal, eyes glowing like coals.