Through The Ashes

3

A somber mood settled heavily over the camp.

Twelve hours had passed since Del broke the news, and word quickly spread that there were new survivors who might join them.

The thought of new mouths to feed, new bodies to clothe and care for, weighed on everyone's minds. Reactions varied—some were cautiously optimistic, while others were indifferent, whispering concerns about the dwindling space and scarce resources.

New arrivals at camp had become a rarity.

It was hard to blame anyone for their skepticism and distrust in a world ravaged by a deadly sickness. In the beginning, things were different. Fearful and isolated, everyone clung to whatever decent group they could find. Now, it was like they had saved everyone possible.

It was like they were the last good group of people left in the city—the last humans.

The deaths of Yona and Mitchell had become known to all. Not a single person had anything bad to say about them. They were loved and respected, always striving to improve the camp. Hardworking, fearless, and irreplaceable in every way, their loss was deeply felt. Small groups formed, mourning the loss of two young lives—bright stars extinguished far too soon.

But that was the harsh reality they all faced now. Most, if not all, had witnessed the deaths of loved ones in horrific and unimaginable ways. Despite this, some still made the mistake of getting attached to new people.

Jorn, however, kept her distance, careful never to get too close to anyone. She refrained from knowing too much about anyone, even Del.

If she knew any small, personal details about others, it was only because she overheard them. In her eyes, making friends during the end of the world was something that didn't make any sense. They all needed each other during this nightmare of a time to survive but that's all it was to Jorn, a symbiotic relationship.

The desire to connect with anyone on a deeper level vanished the moment her family was taken from her. What was the point? She didn't need to talk to anyone. She went out and sacrificed her life every time she stepped foot out of camp, that was enough.

She spent most of the day inside her tent, hiding away from the nonstop rumors and constant mentions of Yona and Mitchell until it was time to participate in the announcement of the new residents.

The Central Grounds were populated with only adults tonight.

The fire crackled softly in the center of the camp, casting flickering shadows across the faces of the survivors. Jorn sat on the outskirts, her gaze distant as she sharpened her knife with careful precision—or what most people would have referred to as a nervous tick.

The night was warm, and the wind carried the faint scent of decay from the city's ruins. She could feel the eyes of some people on her, watching her and probably casting their judgments upon her. Or not at all. Jorn didn't really care.

Today she was struggling with the urge to storm out of camp and take her revenge on The Rot. She could care less about anyone else's opinions.

The Rot wasn't the official name of the virus that took the world by surprise. Its real name was Project Revenant. The reason for Project Revenant's creation was unknown.

Jorn quickly gathered her thoughts, silencing the chatter in her mind and directing her attention to a familiar figure now standing tall and confident amongst the residents. Delamonte.

Jorn looked away, bringing her attention back down to her knife, listening.

"Thank you all for attending tonight," Del said beginning to pace slowly in the center. "Most of you know two very important members of our group have passed. Yona Nylund. Mitchell Nylund. Without them, this camp would've never survived this long. We will never forget them and we will honor them every day we still breathe. May their young souls finally rest in peace."