(POV: Ava)
I used to think that nothing was scarier than the creatures.
I was wrong.
The scariest thing is not knowing who you can trust when the monsters look like men.
***
The morning came gray and wrong, filtered through mist so thick it looked like the sky itself was bleeding into the earth. I sat near the window, staring out into the haze, arms wrapped around my knees, Kael's quiet presence behind me.
He hadn't slept. Again.
His body didn't move much, but I could feel the tension radiating off him—like his muscles were constantly coiled, ready to snap. I didn't know how long he could fight whatever was in his blood. I didn't know how long I'd be safe around him.
I told myself I should leave him behind. Go alone.
But I didn't.
"You're still here," I said, keeping my eyes on the fog outside.
"You're surprised?"
"I figured you'd disappear in the night. You know, all mysterious and brooding."
A pause. Then the barest hint of a smirk in his voice. "I considered it."
We moved out not long after. The church wasn't safe anymore. It never had been, really. And if the things out there had caught my scent, it wouldn't take them long to find it again.
I followed Kael.
I told myself it was just because he knew the terrain. Because he could fight. Because he owed me—he said he'd help, and I needed help.
But I knew it was more than that.
There was something about him, something familiar and yet foreign. Every time I looked at him, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff—afraid to jump, more afraid to walk away.
***
We made our way toward the outskirts of town. Kael said there might be a military safe zone near the old airport—rumors picked up from the radio frequencies he scavenged before everything went dark.
I didn't believe in safe zones anymore.
But I followed anyway.
The roads were dead, buildings half-consumed by blackened growths that pulsed if you looked at them too long. The mist moved with us. It never cleared completely. Always watching. Always waiting.
"Don't look at the windows," Kael muttered.
I didn't ask why.
Then I saw why.
The reflection in one of them wasn't mine. It was me—but twisted, with hollow eyes and a grin that split too wide. My breath caught. I blinked. It was gone.
Kael reached out and gently turned my face away from the glass.
"They feed on attention," he said. "What you see isn't always what's there. But sometimes…it is."
***
We stopped at a gas station to rest. I climbed onto the counter while Kael rummaged through the shelves. He moved like someone who'd done this a thousand times, quiet and calculated, like his muscles remembered survival better than his mind.
"Do you remember what it was like before?" I asked.
He glanced up. "Before the Bleed?"
I nodded.
He looked away. "Barely."
I didn't push. I didn't tell him that I used to have dreams every night. Of warm rain and clean bedsheets and the sound of my sister laughing. Now I couldn't even remember what her voice sounded like.
***
That's when the first scream hit.
Not human.
The shelves rattled. The mist pressed harder against the broken windows like it was trying to get in. Kael was already moving.
"Basement. Now."
"What?"
He grabbed my arm—not roughly, but urgently—and pulled me off the counter.
"They found us."
***
The thing that came through the ceiling wasn't like the others.
It dropped like a puppet with its strings cut—then stood.
Seven feet tall. Skin slick and black like oil, but its face… Oh god, its face.
It didn't have one.
Just a mouth, opening sideways, full of teeth that didn't belong in anything that walked on two legs.
I froze.
Kael didn't.
He threw himself at it, blade out. Not an axe—this time it was something different. Something curved, ancient, glowing faintly red like his eyes.
Their clash was violent. Too fast to follow. Growls. Metal. Bone.
The creature knocked Kael across the room, crashing into shelves. I screamed. It turned toward me.
And in that moment—I saw it hesitate.
I don't know why. But it tilted its head, like it recognized me.
I took the chance and ran.
***
Down the basement steps. Pitch black. I slammed the door behind me, chest heaving, heart screaming against my ribs. I had no light, no weapon—just panic.
Then I heard it again. The door creaking open. Something stepping down the stairs.
One step.
Two.
Three.
"Ava," Kael's voice called, low and ragged.
I stayed silent.
"Ava. It's me."
My fingers tightened around a rusted pipe on the floor. I didn't trust anything anymore.
"What's your name?" I whispered into the dark.
A pause.
"Kael."
"Who gave it to you?"
Another pause—longer this time.
"My mother," he said softly. "She used to call me her little shadow. Because I followed her everywhere."
I relaxed my grip.
The light from a dying flashlight clicked on. Kael stood at the bottom of the stairs, blood dripping from his mouth, wounds knitting closed in real time.
"You're hurt."
"I've been worse."
I stared at him. "You said you didn't know how long you had left."
"I don't."
His eyes locked on mine.
"But I'll use whatever time I have to keep you alive."
***
Later, in the flickering light, I asked him something I hadn't dared to before.
"What are you?"
He didn't answer at first.
When he finally did, his voice was hollow.
"I was human. Then they marked me. Changed me. Made me into one of their weapons."
I swallowed hard. "And now?"
He looked down at his hands, his claws, the red glint in his eyes.
"Now…I fight to remember who I used to be. And maybe, if I stay close enough to you—I won't forget."
I didn't know what to say.
So, I reached out.
And for the first time since the world ended—
I touched something warm.