Chapter 1: Desolate Ruins

  “Cryogenic Unit 17… Subject Assistant Riven Hale… revival sequence complete.”

  The chamber door slid open with a reluctant hiss.

  Riven stumbled forward, legs trembling beneath him. The air felt thick—stale. Wrong. “How long…?” His voice cracked. He steadied himself against the wall. The corridor beyond was unrecognizable. Paint peeled in long strips. Metal panels sagged from the ceiling. Vines had forced their way through fractured glass, creeping across abandoned terminals coated in dust. Nature had claimed what science once built. “Where is everyone?”

  No response came.

  Only silence.

  He took another step, boots crunching over shattered debris.

  “Why was I left behind…?" Doctor Alwyn…the other… First I need a way out.” He searched the corridors until he found an emergency exit buried beneath the creeping vines. The metal was corroded, its surface flaking beneath his fingers.

  He pushed.

  Nothing.

  The door refused to budge.

  Riven scanned the hallway and grabbed a fallen rod from the debris. He wedged it between the hinges and forced his weight against it. Metal screamed. His arms trembled. Rust cracked. The hinge snapped loose with a sharp tear.

  The door groaned open.

  Cold air rushed in.

  Riven stepped through—and froze.

  Buildings stretched into the distance, hollow and broken. Windows shattered. Roads split by thick roots. Entire streets swallowed by towering trees and wild overgrowth.

  Nature had erased the city.

  “Huff… huff…”

  “What could have caused this…?”

  “The world hadn’t ended quietly.”

  “It had been taken…”

  The wind shifted. Branches trembled across the street. Riven narrowed his eyes. “Something here.”

  Something moved between the abandoned cars.

  Too fast for an animal. A figure stepped into the open. "Humanoid!" Its posture was bent unnaturally forward, skin stretched tight over bone. One arm hung longer than the other, fingers dragging across the pavement. It stopped.

  Its head tilted sharply.

  Then—it sprinted. Not like a man.

  More like something wearing a human. Riven’s breath caught. His legs moved before his thoughts did. The figure sprinted. Too fast.

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  Its limbs bent at impossible angles, feet slamming against concrete with bone-cracking force.

  Riven didn’t think. He ran; his boots slipped on loose gravel as he darted between abandoned vehicles. The thing behind him shrieked—a dry, tearing sound that scraped against his nerves.

  It was gaining speed. He cut into a collapsed storefront, ducking under hanging metal beams. Dust exploded into the air as Riven shoved past rotted shelves. A crash behind him. It didn’t slow down.

  It smashed through the entrance instead of using it. Riven’s lungs burned. His muscles, still weak from cryosleep, screamed in protest.

  “The stairs.” He murmured.

  He lunged toward a broken staircase and forced himself upward two steps at a time.

  Halfway up—the wood splintered beneath the creature’s weight. It fell.

  Not gracefully.

  Limbs twisting.

  But it was already climbing again.

  Riven spotted a narrow maintenance hatch that led to the second floor. He jumped. Caught the edge. Dragged himself through.

  And slammed the hatch shut just as something slammed against it from below. Silence.

  Then scratching.

  Slow.

  Persistent.

  Riven pressed his back against the wall, shaking, vibrating violently.

  “That wasn’t human.”

  Riven didn’t wait for answers.

  He moved slowly at first, quietly.

  He lifted the hatch just enough to see through the crack.

  The street below was empty.

  Too empty.

  Dust still drifted in the air where something massive had moved. He didn’t look for it, nor did he want to see it. He dropped down silently and kept close to the buildings, staying within shadow. No open streets. No clear sightlines. No noise. The city no longer felt abandoned. It felt haunted. A distant thud echoed somewhere behind him.

  Heavy.

  Measured.

  Not frantic like the creature from before.

  It was deliberate.

  Riven’s pulse quickened. Whatever had made that sound…

  It was not running.

  It was searching.

  He turned down a narrow alley choked with vines and debris.

  Then—He saw it. Marks carved into the brick wall. Long. Deep.

  Too clean to be random damage. Something territorial. Something intelligent. Something close to work of witchery. Riven stepped back slowly. This wasn’t chaos. This was planned.

  And he was a part of it. Riven froze. The alley went silent. Not normal silence. The kind that felt watched. He held still, listening. Wind. Distant rubble settling. Nothing else. Then—a whisper. Soft. Almost beneath hearing.

  “Riven…”

  His name. Clear. Unmistakable. He turned sharply. No one. No movement.

  Only the alley, wrapped in vines, a broken brick with strange marks carved into it. His breath hitched.

  “Hallucination? Echo? Impossible. No one should know he was here, not in a dead city, not after centuries.”

  He panicked; the hairs on his arms stood up.

  “Something had spoken…” Something that knew him.

  He backed away slowly. One step at a time. Then another. The marks on the wall seemed to watch.

  Patient.

  Unmoving.

  Riven swallowed.

  “Who’s there?”

  His voice sounded small. Uncertain.

  The alley answered with silence. But the feeling remained.

  He was not alone.