Something was wrong with Sentry.
I felt it through our bond the moment I opened my eyes—a pulse of distress that cut through the fog of exhaustion. Ghost was pawing at my face, but my attention was already elsewhere, reaching out to the dog I had bound last night.
Pain. Fever. Wrong.
I scrambled out of bed and found Sentry collapsed in the corner of my living room. His breathing was labored, and when I placed my hand on his side, the heat radiating from his fur was alarming.
The wounds from last night hadn't healed properly. Something was festering.
"Ghost. Water. Bring me water."
Ghost darted to the kitchen while I examined Sentry more closely. The binding had worked—I could feel his soul anchored to mine—but his body was rejecting the process. Fighting it.
Master... failed?
"No," I said firmly. "Not failed. Just... incomplete."
I closed my eyes and reached deeper into my Death Aura. In my past life, I had bound thousands of creatures, but that had been after years of practice, after my power had grown to its full potential. Now, I was still relearning, still adapting to a power that had been dormant for ten thousand years of non-existence.
Focus. Feel the connection. Strengthen it.
I pushed my will through the bond, not commanding but... supporting. Pouring my own life force into Sentry like water into cracked soil.
The dog shuddered. Whimpered. Then, slowly, the fever began to break.
Master... strong.
"Master is learning," I corrected. "Can you stand?"
Sentry tried. This time, he made it up without wobbling.
Better. Stronger. Thank you.
Ghost returned with a bowl of water, watching the larger animal with a mixture of curiosity and territorial concern.
He stays?
"He stays," I confirmed. "You're pack now. Both of you."
Ghost considered this, then touched her nose to Sentry's muzzle. Some silent communication passed between them.
Acceptable, Ghost decided. But I am first.
"You're first," I agreed.
I checked my phone. 7:15 AM. Late for work—but Sentry was stable now, and that mattered more.
Two days, fifteen hours.
------------------------------
The hallway outside my apartment was chaos.
Not the apocalyptic kind—not yet. Just the ordinary chaos of a Monday morning in a cheap apartment complex. Doors slamming, people rushing to work, children being herded toward school buses.
I locked my door and turned to find Mrs. Rodriguez from 3B standing directly in my path.
"Wei!" She beamed at me with the kind of aggressive friendliness that made escape impossible. "I've been trying to catch you. You've been so busy lately!"
Patient zero, my Death Aura whispered. Forty-seven hours until infection.
"Morning, Mrs. Rodriguez," I said, trying to edge past her. "I'm running late—"
"This will only take a moment!" She grabbed my arm with surprising strength. "My daughter is coming to visit this weekend. I told her all about you—the nice young man who works in the city, so polite, recently single—"
"I appreciate the thought," I interrupted gently, "but I'm not really looking to date right now."
Mrs. Rodriguez's smile didn't waver. "Nonsense! Everyone needs companionship. My daughter is a teacher, very educated, very pretty. You two would be perfect together!"
I looked at her—really looked at her. This woman who fussed over matchmaking and plumbing issues, who had no idea she would be the spark that set this building ablaze with undeath.
In another timeline, I might have hated her for it. Blamed her for all the deaths that would follow.
But she was just a woman trying to help. Trying to connect people. Trying to do good in the small ways that mattered to her.
"I'll think about it," I said, and meant it more kindly this time.
Mrs. Rodriguez finally released my arm, still beaming. "Wonderful! Now hurry along—you don't want to be late for work!"
I nodded and headed down the stairs.
------------------------------
The subway was its usual crush of commuters.
Generator. Fuel cans. Batteries. Canned goods. Water purification tablets.
Everything that would become impossible to buy in three days.
The hardware store owner sounded confused. "This is a lot of equipment, Mr. Zhang. Are you preparing for a disaster or something?"
"Or something," I agreed.
"Well, we can have everything ready for pickup tomorrow. But I have to warn you, some of this stuff is expensive—"
"Money isn't a concern."
Not anymore. What good was money when the banks would close and currency would become worthless?
The owner hesitated, then said, "All right. Tomorrow afternoon, then. We'll have it ready."
I hung up and leaned back in my chair.
My phone buzzed with a text from Max Yang.
"Supplies arrived. We're making progress. Hui Zhang wants to know where you learned all this."
I typed back: "Experience. I'll be there tonight."
"We'll be waiting."
I pocketed the phone and returned to my desk.
Director Chu was walking the floor, checking on everyone's progress. When he reached my desk, he paused.
"Wei. How's the Yang account coming along?"
"Making progress, sir," I said.
"Good, good." He patted my shoulder paternally. "Keep up the good work. The company appreciates dedicated employees like you."
"Thank you, sir."
He moved on to hassle someone else.
I stared at my spreadsheet and waited for the day to end.
------------------------------
The elevator ride down at 5 PM was crowded with coworkers discussing their evening plans.
"Anyone want to grab drinks?" someone asked. "There's that new place on Capitol Hill—"
"Can't. Wife scheduled a dinner with her parents. Kill me now."
Laughter.
I said nothing. I was thinking about Sentry, about whether the binding would hold, about whether I should check on him before heading to the compound.
But underneath those thoughts, my Death Aura thrummed with anticipation, like a predator scenting blood.
Two days, it whispered. Soon.
------------------------------
I was halfway home when I passed a street corner protest.
A small group—maybe fifteen people—holding signs and chanting about climate change. "The government must act!" they shouted. "We demand action now! Before it's too late!"
One of the protesters, a young woman with fierce determination in her eyes, stepped in front of me and thrust a flyer into my hands.
"Please! Read this! Share it! The world is running out of time!"
I looked at her—at the fire in her eyes, the certainty in her voice. She believed she could make a difference. Believed that if enough people listened, catastrophe could be avoided.
"Thank you," I said quietly, and meant it.
She smiled, bright and hopeful, then moved on to accost someone else.
I folded the flyer and tucked it in my pocket. In two days, none of this would matter—not climate change, not protests, not any of it.
But her passion, that desperate need to do something, to save what could be saved...
That, I understood.
------------------------------
The apartment building was quieter in the evening.
Most people were home now, cooking dinner, watching TV, doing homework. The last normal evening before everything changed.
I unlocked my door and stepped inside.
Ghost and Sentry were waiting.
Ghost sat on the back of the couch, watching the door with predatory alertness. Sentry lay in the corner, head raised, his wounds healing slowly but surely. Through our bond, I felt their combined awareness—two souls anchored to mine, two sets of eyes watching the apartment.
Master returns, Ghost purred.
Master returns, Sentry echoed, deeper and more formal.
"How are you feeling?" I asked Sentry.
Stronger. Better. Ready to serve.
"Good. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we start moving to the compound."
I walked to the window and looked out at the city. Lights coming on as dusk fell. Millions of people going about their evening routines.
Ghost jumped onto the windowsill beside me and pressed against my side.
Master is troubled.
"Master is thinking," I said. "About what comes next. About who we can save."
Save?
"Some of them. Not all. But some." I reached down and scratched behind her torn ear. "That's why we prepare. That's why we build the pack. Because when the end comes, we need to be ready."
Ghost considered this. Then: We are ready. We are pack. We are strong.
"Yes," I agreed. "We are."
I pushed away from the window.
"Come on. We have work to do."
Always work, Ghost observed.
"Always," I agreed. "Until the countdown ends."
Two days, Sentry rumbled from his corner. Master, I will be ready.
"I know you will."
The countdown continued.