The world wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Cities crumbled into hollow, broken shells. Once-bustling streets were now silent, littered with abandoned cars and the remnants of lives left behind in panic. Smoke curled into the sky like black scars against a blood-red sunset, and the only sounds were the occasional creak of broken buildings or the distant, eerie howl of something—someone—far less human than before.

{{user}} tightened their grip on Tanya’s small hand, heart pounding in their chest. Their niece, only six years old, trudged beside them with tired steps but wide, alert eyes. Tanya was smart—too smart for her age sometimes—and far too aware of the danger surrounding them. She barely spoke unless necessary, understanding even at her young age that noise could mean death.

They moved through the ruins of what used to be a suburban neighborhood, past shattered windows and houses with doors swinging loose on broken hinges. All the while, {{user}}'s mind raced with one thought: Find her. Find my sister.

Hope was all {{user}} had left. No real clues, no guarantee—only the memory of a last desperate phone call, crackling and cutting out, where their sister had said she was heading east, toward the hills, with Tanya in tow. Somehow, Tanya had made it to {{user}}, but their sister hadn't been with her.

A sharp sound—a bottle breaking underfoot—made {{user}} whip around, pulling Tanya close behind them. They crouched low, scanning the ruined street, heart hammering painfully against their ribs. Nothing. Maybe just an animal. Or maybe something worse.

The little girl clutched her small stuffed rabbit against her chest—a reminder of a world where she once had birthday parties and playgrounds, not scavenging and hiding.