A dim, silver glow filtered through the cracks in the boarded-up window, softened by the frost that clung to the outside. Priya stirred awake.
Her eyes blinked open to a world of silence, save for the faint creak of wind against the glass. The room was cold, but not unbearable—mostly because of the warmth pressed tightly against her.
Ron lay beside her, fast asleep.
His left hand rested on her hip, fingers curled lightly as if afraid to let go. His right arm curved around her shoulders, drawing her into his chest, his palm brushing the base of her neck. His breath was slow, calm, and warm against her forehead. Even in sleep, his body had formed a protective shell around her—as though shielding her from the world outside.
She watched him for a while.
The lines of exhaustion on his face had softened in sleep. The hardness he wore when facing the world—the pain, the violence, the endless survival—was gone for a few precious moments. He looked… peaceful. Human.
Priya smiled faintly and settled into his embrace, slipping her arms around him without making a sound. If the world wanted to burn, she'd let it—for just a little while longer, she wanted this.
Eventually, Ron stirred.
He blinked lazily, and his eyes met hers—sleepy, confused, and then, soft.
"Good morning," Priya whispered.
Ron smiled. "Morning."
He shifted, brushing a hand through his messy hair. Then, as he helped her sit up, his eyes dropped to her leg.
The smile vanished.
"Hold on," he said, suddenly alert. He gently pulled back the rough cloth wrapped around her calf. The moment the bandage came off, his jaw clenched.
The skin was discolored. A sickly purple-blue patch had spread along the side, the early signs of frostbite unmistakable.
"You should've told me it was getting worse," Ron muttered, his voice low, frustrated more at himself than her.
"I didn't think it was this bad," Priya murmured.
He checked the room, rifling through every corner of the stash they'd gathered. No new bandages. Just scraps of used cloth. With a sigh, Ron sat down, peeled off the bandages from his own arms—his wounds had already sealed days ago, the skin beneath smooth and pale.
"Lie back," he said.
Carefully, gently, he began rewrapping her leg with his own bandages. His fingers moved with care, as though even his touch might cause her pain. Priya watched him in silence. The cold had numbed her leg, but her chest… her chest felt warm in a way she didn't understand yet.
When he was done, he exhaled, satisfied. Then he looked up.
"Where's my bag?" he asked.
Priya pointed to the dusty wardrobe by the corner. "I put it in there last night," she said. "It started glowing. I thought it might be important… You were clutching it even after you passed out."
Ron stood, opened the wardrobe, and pulled the bag out. From inside, nestled in the folds of a scorched jacket, the orb shimmered faintly—a swirling emerald-green light pulsed softly, as if alive.
He turned back to her, cradling the orb in his hands. "Do you want to become like me?" he asked quietly.
Priya's eyes widened. She sat up straighter, heart skipping. "You found another one…"
He nodded. "Yeah. It was in Raj's room… after he… you know. When an Evolver dies, their Orb of Evolution… it kind of reappears. Materializes again. "I was saving it. For you."
She blinked. "For me?"
Ron stepped closer, holding the orb like it was something sacred. "This thing… it chooses its host when it's close enough. But evolving isn't easy. You'll have to endure a pain that tears through your body. Worse than anything you've ever felt." He looked into her eyes. "You sure you want this?"
There was a long silence. The wind outside moaned like a warning.
Then Priya looked at him, her voice quiet but resolute. "Do you know how I feel… every time you walk out that door, risking your life?" Her eyes were soft, but they burned with something deeper. "I sit here. Waiting. Powerless. Useless. If I go with you, I'm a burden. If I stay, I feel even worse. I don't want to be afraid anymore."
She took a breath. "I want to stand beside you, not behind you. I'll endure it."
Ron hesitated just a second longer. Then he brought the orb closer.
The moment it neared her chest, it flared. A shockwave of green light burst outward in silence. Priya arched with a strangled cry, her body trembling violently.
"Priya!" Ron caught her, pulled her into his arms. Her fingers clutched his shirt as her body convulsed. Steam rose from her skin. Her breath came in broken gasps, then silence.
Her head fell against his shoulder—unconscious.
He held her tightly, jaw clenched. "You'll be okay," he whispered, more to himself than her. "You'll make it."
Outside, the frost thickened. But inside the room, warmth pulsed between them, faint and fragile—like the first spark of something unstoppable.
A knock broke the silence.
Ron looked up from Priya's still form, her breath faint but steady. Her skin had lost some of its pallor, but she hadn't stirred since the evolution. Carefully, he tucked the blanket around her and brushed her hair away from her face. Then, with one last glance, he rose and walked to the door.
Three familiar faces greeted him—Puja, her daughter Shreya, and Jiya, who had been staying with them since Ron rescued her and Shreya from Raj.
"You're awake," Puja said, eyes flicking across his face. "How are you feeling? We saw you collapse last night after coming back."
Ron nodded. "I'm fine. Just pushed myself too far."
Jiya stepped forward, worry etched between her brows. "There's… something you need to know."
He stiffened slightly. "Go on."
Shreya answered first, voice small but urgent. "There are more zombies. A lot more."
Jiya added, "Since yesterday evening, they've been swarming this whole area. We thought it was just coincidence, but this morning... the lower floors were filled. They're already reaching the second."
Ron exhaled sharply, the pieces clicking together. Last night—on the return trip—he'd seen the crowd growing thicker. He'd dismissed it as migration, maybe leftover noise from Raj's gang being wiped out. But now?
"They're moving in," he muttered.
"What do we do?" Puja asked.
"Go back to your room. Lock the door. If anything changes, I'll let you know." His voice was calm, firm.
They hesitated but eventually nodded. Shreya clutched her mother's hand tightly. "Be careful," she whispered.
Ron gave a small nod and shut the door behind them.
Turning, he looked at Priya again—still unconscious. He walked over, leaned down, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"I'll be back soon," he whispered, then picked up his axe and left the room.
The hallway was dark, silent—except for a distant thumping. Ron descended slowly. By the time he reached the second floor, the noise had sharpened into groans and dragging feet. The place reeked of rot.
He didn't hesitate.
The axe swung clean, brutal, efficient. One after another, the undead fell. His mind was clear, his body honed from days of fighting. But this time, he fought with purpose. Every zombie down was a core earned—for Priya.
For almost an hour, the bloodbath continued. The second floor was packed—nearly a hundred zombies. He was drenched in sweat, blood coating his sleeves. But he didn't stop. Not until the last corpse hit the floor.
Then came the harvesting.
He began splitting open torsos, searching for the evolution cores. But as he worked, something strange happened.
He felt it.
It was like a subtle pull in his senses, a tingling in his skull—he could now sense which bodies held cores. To test it, he pointed at two corpses. One sparked that sensation; the other didn't.
He opened both.
He was right.
"Seventy cores," he muttered an hour later, packing the last one in a makeshift cloth bag. "She'll need every one."
The apartment was quiet when he returned.
But the bed was empty.
"Priya?" he called, alarm creeping in.
Then—a sudden warmth at his back.
Arms slid around his waist.
"You really planned to sneak out on me while I was asleep?" came her soft voice, teasing.
He turned, and there she stood—pale, tired, but smiling.
"I went to get these," Ron said gently, lifting the bag and placing it in her hands.
Her eyes widened. "You're insane."
He swept her into his arms. "And you're not supposed to be out of bed. Your leg—"
"Isn't this why I have you?" she teased, tracing a finger along his collarbone. "To take care of me?"
Ron chuckled under his breath and set her gently back onto the bed. "Absorb them. You'll need the strength."
As Priya began consuming the cores, Ron sat beside her and explained everything—the surge of zombies, the danger, the urgency. The plan.
"We need to move into Raj's place," he said. "The sixth floor is perfect. One room's packed with supplies. The other's reinforced—steel sheets, insulated walls, everything. It's built to survive this winter."
Priya nodded, focused. "And what about the others?"
"We offer them the fifth floor. If they come, great. If not… we go alone. But having them close would be smart. An early warning if anything happens."
She glanced at him. "I'll go wherever you go."
One hour passed.
Priya exhaled sharply, her body glowing faintly with residual energy. Her wounds had vanished—her leg now fully healed.
"I'm Level 3 now," she said, flexing her fingers. "It feels... right."
Ron smiled. "Good."
Later, he gathered them—Puja, Jiya, Shreya—along with Priya.
"We're moving," he announced. "Raj's apartment is clear. High walls, metal gate. I've already cleared the lower floors. All we have to do is cross the road."
Jiya's eyes widened. "What about the zombies?"
"They're gone. For now. I made sure of it."
He turned to Priya. "And this time, I won't be fighting alone."
She stepped forward, calm and proud.
Shreya blinked. "Wait… is Priya also an evolver?"
Puja and Jiya looked at her in surprise.
Ron answered without hesitation. "She's been one all along. She got hurt protecting us, that's why I told her to rest."
Priya understood the weight behind his words—measured trust, but not full. Not yet.
She nodded. "I'm fine now. Ready to fight."
The room fell quiet. Then, slowly, they all nodded.
They would follow him.
And together—they would move forward.
Ron scanned the room one last time, his gaze lingering on the cluttered corner where old wires and tools lay. He moved quickly, gathering everything he thought might be useful—extra clothes, blankets, and his electrician's kit from his earlier life. Pliers, screwdrivers, insulated gloves, a hammer, hacksaw, flashlight, even a roll of thick wire and an old multimeter—anything that might help him reinforce the new shelter. He shoved it all into a large duffel bag, zipping it up tight.
Priya was already dressed in layers—thick jeans over thermal tights, two sweaters beneath a weather-worn jacket, and her long hair tied back. Her leg was better now, healed by the evolution, but Ron still insisted she lean slightly on him as they prepared to move. Outside, the wind howled like a dying beast, rattling the glass windows in protest.
The group stood at the door—Puja, Shreya, and Jiya bundled in everything they could wear, scarves wrapped around their faces, gloves stuffed on hands too small or too big. Their eyes were wide, wary of the cold but more so of the world beyond the door.
When they stepped out, the cold hit like a wall.
The snow outside was knee-deep, nearly three feet in places, and whipped around by gusts so strong that even breathing felt like swallowing ice. Visibility had dropped to ten feet at most, the world beyond a blur of white and gray. Without Ron and Priya's enhanced vision, they would've been lost in minutes. But together, they led the group forward through the frozen fog.
The five-minute journey to Raj's former apartment turned into a grueling forty-minute ordeal. Every few steps, they had to stop—sometimes to catch their breath, sometimes to deal with a lone zombie that had stumbled out of the storm. Ron took point, axe in hand, his movements silent and efficient. Priya watched their flank, her senses sharp, dispatching threats before the others even noticed them.
By the time they reached the gate, Ron's breath was heavy in the air, his shoulders dusted with snow. He pushed open the metal door with a loud creak. The building loomed in front of them, dark and cold—but safe, for now.
Inside the entrance hall, the darkness was suffocating. Only the faint light from Ron's flashlight revealed the mess Raj had left behind. Frozen blood coated the floor in ugly smears. Corpses, twisted and half-buried in frost, lined the hallway.
Puja flinched. Her hand rose to her mouth as she staggered slightly. She was trying to stay composed, but her eyes betrayed the tremor beneath.
Ron glanced back, his voice calm but commanding. "The fifth floor is empty now. Three rooms, each with a bathroom and a small kitchen. Clean it out, settle in. We'll be just above you on the sixth."
Shreya nodded first. "Come on, Ma. It's better than where we were."
Jiya wrapped an arm around her. "You're stronger than this, It's only mess and memories. Nothing here can hurt us now."
Puja exhaled slowly, steadying herself. Her voice was quiet. "It's not the blood… It's just… knowing what happened here."
Jiya glanced at Ron and Priya as they climbed the stairs toward the sixth floor. "Still… we're lucky," she whispered. "People with power like that… they could rule. But they don't. They help. That's rare now."
Puja gave her a faint smile. "You're right. In this world… people like them might be the last thing keeping the rest of us human."
She looked up the stairs again, her voice firmer this time. "Let's clean this floor. I want to sleep tonight without a knife under my pillow."
And together, they began to clear the past from their future.