"Betrayal cuts deepest when it comes from the ones you trusted to keep you alive."
Father's hand settled on my shoulder like an anchor, warm and steady against the tremors racing under my skin. His gaze didn't waver, but somewhere behind the calm I saw the faintest flicker of unease.
"Xinyue," he said, voice low, "we're family. Whatever it is, say it. We'll listen."
His words almost broke me. I had carried this truth alone before—through blood and fire, through betrayal that had left me raw and hollow. But this time I wasn't alone. My lips parted as memories surged up like a flood.
"Dad… it started on March 23rd, 20**."
The room went quiet. Mother stopped twisting the hem of her sleeve. Little Lan's eyes were wide, confusion written all over her small face.
"The sky that day turned crimson. The sun looked like blood, and the rain…" My throat tightened. "The rain wasn't normal. Everyone who stepped into it… changed. Some became monsters. Others… awakened powers they never knew they had."
I swallowed, steadying my voice. "But not everyone was lucky. Some stayed completely ordinary. No strength. No abilities. Just prey, waiting to be devoured."
Feng Lan whimpered and squeezed Mother's hand. I gave her a faint smile, though it faltered. "Lan'er, don't be afraid. In that life, some of us awakened. Father got strength, Mother had healing, and you…" My chest ached at the memory. "You awakened too. That was the only reason we survived the first month."
My words hung heavy. Disbelief warred with fear on my parents' faces, but they stayed silent, listening.
"The government tried to control it at first," I continued, my voice sharpening as darker memories came. "By the second day, everything collapsed. Soldiers deserted, leaders vanished, and the military seized power. Humanity… fell apart in days."
I could still hear the screams, the gunfire, the chaos of neighbors turning on neighbors.
"By the third day, it wasn't just zombies anymore," I said bitterly. "It was humans. Awakeners used their powers to seize food, to kill, to dominate. Blood flowed like water. Within a week, the military built fortified bases. We fought, starved, and clawed our way into one."
I dug my nails into my palms until pain flared.
"And then… I made the worst mistake of my life."
The names burned my tongue.
"Zhou Han. Liu Yaqing."
I spat them out like venom.
"I trusted them. Too much. Mother warned me not to go, but I followed them to search for supplies. I thought they were comrades. I thought they cared." My voice cracked. "I thought—"
The memory hit like a punch: cold hands shoving me forward, teeth and claws tearing, my own screams swallowed by the horde.
"They pushed me into the horde," I whispered. "I died. Torn apart while they walked away with the food."
The weight of it folded me. Sobs ripped from my chest as I buried my face in Lan'er's shoulder. My little sister trembled but held me tight, her thin arms a fragile anchor.
"Jiejie…" she whispered through tears. "Don't cry. I'll protect you. This time, I'll protect you too."
Father's face hardened like steel. His fist slammed the table; bowls rattled, spilling rice and porridge.
"That bastard Zhou Han!" His voice thundered, cracking the air. "I knew he was no good. I should've thrown him out the moment he dared step into this house!"
Mother's lips pressed thin, her hands shaking as she reached for Father's arm, steadying him. "We can't change the past, Weiguo. Focus on what comes next."
Silence settled again, heavy and full of everything we hadn't yet said. Only the sound of my ragged breathing filled the room.
Finally, Father spoke, softer but iron-strong. "Lan'er, take your sister upstairs. Let her rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."
Mother added gently, "And bring dinner with you."
Lan'er nodded and helped me to my feet. Her small hand gripped mine like she was afraid I might vanish if she let go. I realized, in that instant, how fragile everything was—how precious our family was in a world ready to devour us.
As she led me upstairs, I stole one last glance at my parents. The dim lamplight threw shadows across their faces—fear, disbelief, but also determination. Somehow, we were still standing. Somehow, we had survived.
Once in my room, I sank onto the edge of the bed, my body trembling, my hands slick with sweat. I could still hear echoes of that day, the terror that had ripped my world apart. My mind replayed every step: the blood, the fear, the betrayal.
But amid the horror, a spark flared—an ember of determination. I couldn't let it end like that again. I would survive, and I would protect the people I loved.
I pressed my palms to my face and breathed deeply, trying to ground myself. The powers… the Space and Ice abilities that had once been latent in me… They pulsed in my veins now, subtle but undeniable. They were weapons, yes, but also tools of survival. I had to learn them, master them, or nothing I did would matter.
Lan'er peeked at me from the doorway, her small frame outlined by the flickering candlelight. "Jiejie… are you okay?"
I forced a smile. "I'm okay, Lan'er. Go rest now. Tomorrow we'll talk more."
Her eyes were wide, but trusting. She nodded and slipped back to her room, leaving me alone.
I sat in silence, staring at the ceiling, letting the memories and the anger settle into something I could use. My mind replayed Zhou Han's face, Yaqing's smug smirk, the moment they betrayed me. This time, nothing would catch me off guard. This time, I would be ready.
A thought struck me sharply—if humanity could break this fast, how fragile the world really was. How easily everything could collapse. And in that fragility lay power. The ones who survived, the ones who awakened… they had a chance to shape the future.
I closed my eyes and envisioned it: fire against ice, space bending to my will, the world trembling before me—but my family safe, my enemies facing the consequences. It was a future I would carve myself, even if it demanded everything.
Sleep never came that night. My body ached, my heart raced, but inside me a fire burned hotter than any fear. I replayed strategies, escape plans, and the faces of those who had betrayed me. I rehearsed what I would do differently next time. Every mistake was a lesson; every failure a map to survival.
This time, betrayal would not go unanswered.
This time, blood would pay for blood.
And this time… I would rise stronger than anyone expected.