The fire crackled between them. Beyond the circle of light, the camp faded into shadow.
The crystal walls shimmered tall and protective under the night sky. Inside, people laughed, ate, and spoke like an ordinary neighbour. Outside, the world waited.
Michael's words lingered in the air.
Annihilate them.
Myles stared into the flames.
The world had become something cruel. Like a jungle stripped of illusion. A simple law governed everything now, only the strong survived.
Strength meant victory. Victory meant breathing another day.
The lines between good and evil had thinned until they barely existed. Morality had become a luxury. Power decided what was right and decided who lived.
In an apocalypse like this, ideals collapsed faster than buildings. Hunger, fear, and survival carved away everything unnecessary.
Compassion still existed of course, but it depended on strength. Without power, kindness died first. It was useless.
