"The Half-Blood Arc: Ashes of War - Volume 1"

epilogue

The world was enveloped in a profound silence, unlike any it had ever experienced before. Less than two weeks ago, civilization met its end, leaving behind only the sound of the wind and the spirits unfortunate to never depart our realm. It was a deafening silence, the stillness of the night echoing like forgotten dreams. Lila found herself concealed much like Matthias had been, not within the confines of a fake tree with an interior suited for a man, nestled within a hollowed-out fake rock atop the hill, perfect for a sniper's perch.

Lila, with the help of Sikorsky, found their new home— the rock was hidden among many that he had shown her. The space, nestled deep within the rugged terrain, exuded an air of secrecy and solitude. Roughly the size of a one-bedroom apartment, the den provided just enough space for them to carve out a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos of the outside world. 

Lila, having forsaken the trappings of civilization that once adored her with lovely clothing, now adorned herself in practical attire—a thick leather coat, weathered and worn from countless journeys, adorned with an assortment of survival gear, while a sturdy backpack hung from her shoulders, filled with essentials for their survival.

The cozy den, their sanctuary amidst the desolation, was furnished sparingly yet efficiently. Weapons of various shapes and sizes adorned the walls, a silent testament to the dangers that lurked beyond their refuge. The scent of roasted rabbits filled the air. A small fire crackled in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the worn wooden floorboards, while scattered gear and supplies lay haphazardly strewn about.

Sikorsky, a man marked by the trials of battle, sat in solemn contemplation, his lone arm methodically sharpening a sizable blade with practiced precision. He viewed the loss of his own arm as his greatest trophy and relieved that battle in his head when he lost it every time he was inconvenienced by his new handicap. Nearby, Lila, lost in the pages of “War of the Worlds,” sought solace in the words of a world far removed from their own.

Suddenly, the tranquility of their makeshift abode was shattered by a powerful gust of wind—a primal roar that seemed to echo the very heartbeat of the Earth itself. Sikorsky, his sharpening interrupted, spat out the sharpener with a grimace, his gaze fixed on the tempest raging outside. “This is usually how it starts,” he muttered, his voice barely audible above the howling wind."

The wind was so loud that Lila barely heard Sikorsky's reply, setting her book down with a start. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the howling gale.

Sikorsky's expression darkened as he rose from sitting, the weight of his words heavy upon him. “Well, that terrible wind was at the start of that damn war we fought for 4 years. When mother made her first appearance and, of course, the moment the world ended,” he explained with much excitement.

With a determined air, Sikorsky moved to collect a rifle and various other gear, his movements purposeful as he prepared for what lay ahead. “It sounds like the mighty winds of a tornado, and then, like magic, it stops,” he added, his words tinged with a sense of foreboding.

As if on cue, the wind ceased its relentless assault, the sudden silence echoing through the den like a portent of things to come.

Lila's eyes widened in disbelief as she realized Sikorsky's intentions. “You don't seriously think you can hunt one of those?” she exclaimed, her shock palpable.

Sikorsky's expression twisted into a malicious grin as he responded, his voice tinged with a grim determination. “Kid, I'm no ordinary man. I've been tracking wolves in Siberia since I was eight years old. Besides, they're not the most observant creatures in the world. I've managed to evade them for over a month now before they tore the world to shreds.”