Just as Gerald led the undead army up through the old service tunnels toward the streets above—the power returned.It happened all at once. The rolling blackout that had plunged the city into darkness for hours suddenly reversed. Lights flickered back on in buildings across the skyline. Streetlamps hummed to life. Traffic signals blinked red, yellow, green. The neon signs of the financial district blazed into existence, casting colorful reflections on the wet pavement.The city came back to life.But it was the wrong kind of life.The undead soldiers emerged from the tunnels into the bright, artificial light—and the horror became visible for all to see. Their pale skin. Their black eyes. Their mechanical movements. The blood staining their clothes. The emptiness in their faces.Gerald led them with mechanical precision, his empty eyes fixed on the path ahead. He didn't speak. He didn't think. He just followed the orders he had been given.The first sign of trouble came when they reach

The three of them drove through the chaotic streets of the city, weaving through abandoned cars and debris. The undead army had moved deeper into the city, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake—burning buildings, shattered windows, bodies lying in the gutters. The streets were empty now, the living having fled or hidden, but the echoes of screams still lingered in the air.Chance gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Wilfreda sat beside him, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Christopher sat in the back, his violin case clutched to his chest like a lifeline. No one spoke. There was nothing left to say.After driving for another couple of minutes, they turned a corner and saw them.The undead army stood in the middle of a wide intersection, their black eyes gleaming in the dim streetlights. Dozens of them—maybe more—standing in perfect formation, their bodies still, their faces blank. And at the front, leading them, was Gerald.He stood with his back to them, his posture

Christopher stared at her for a long moment, her words sinking into his heart like stones into still water. Hope. It was such a fragile thing—so easily crushed, so easily lost. And yet, it was the only thing that had kept them going through everything. The only thing that had kept them fighting when the world was falling apart around them."You're right," he said quietly. "Hope is all we've got. And maybe that's enough."Wilfreda nodded, a small, fragile smile on her lips. "Maybe it is."***They returned to the estate just as dawn was breaking over the city. The sky was pale and gray, the clouds still heavy with the memory of darkness. The streets were quiet, the chaos of the night finally subsiding. But the silence was not peaceful—it was the silence of exhaustion, of grief, of a city that had seen too much.The family was waiting for them in the living room. Julia was the first to see them, her face pale, her eyes red from crying. She rushed to the door, her hands reaching for the

"I'm talking about you. About me. About Gary. About the entire family." She paused, her voice softening. "We've been so busy blaming ourselves—and each other—that we've forgotten what really matters. We've forgotten that we're stronger together than we are apart."Philip shook his head. "Susan, I don't—""Listen to me," she interrupted, her voice firm. "You've been sitting in this room for days, drowning in guilt over what you did to Seraphina. I understand. I do. But you can't change the past. None of us can. What we can do is move forward. Together."Philip's eyes glistened. "But what I did—""What you did, you did for your family," Susan said. "You did it to save Chance, Christopher, and Wilfreda. You did it to protect the people you love. And yes, it hurt Seraphina. It hurt you. But it also saved lives."She reached out and took his hand, her grip firm."Chance is gone. Or he's lost. We don't know. But what we do know is that the family needs us. All of us. Not just the ones who a

Seraphina fell silent, her rage spent. The fire in her eyes flickered, then dimmed, replaced by something else—something that looked almost like exhaustion. She had been angry for so long. She had been hurt for so long. And now, standing in the crumbling parking lot of an abandoned church, she felt the weight of it all pressing down on her like a physical force.She looked at Steven—really looked at him. She saw the desperation in his eyes, the lines of worry etched into his face, the way his hands trembled slightly at his sides. This was a man who had lost so much. A man who had sacrificed everything for his family. A man who was willing to do anything—anything—to save his son.She thought of her own father—the man who had abandoned her, the man who had never loved her, the man who had left her to fend for herself in a world that didn't care. She thought of the emptiness that had lived in her heart for as long as she could remember. The longing. The need to be loved. The desperation