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The soft light from the overhead lamp warmed the room and brought out the familiar scratches on the wood. Madylin and her brother Nick sat at the worn wooden dining table in their cozy home, the sound of silverware clattering as they ate. The smell of baked chicken mixed with the sweet aroma of cookies cooling on the counter. Everything felt so warm and safe.
Her father, with his tousled dirty blonde hair and thoughtful blue eyes, sat at one end of the table. His brow was furrowed as he flipped through channels on the small television in the corner. It was just another family dinner until the news anchor's voice broke in: "Authorities are warning citizens about a newly discovered virus known as Flare."
Madylin's mother stopped mid-bite, her fork pausing in the air. She exchanged a quick look with her husband, silently asking him to keep watching. Her father leaned in closer, placing his hands flat on the table, eager to hear more.
Her mother stared at the tv, absentmindedly twisting her wedding ring. "I heard about it last week," she said quietly, "This place, WICKED, offered me a position. They want me to help develop a cure before this gets too out of hand."
In that moment, Madylin didn't fully grasp what that meant—her young mind more preoccupied with Nick launching a piece of chicken across the table in an ill-fated attempt to hit their father on the forehead. Laughter filled the room for a moment, providing a brief distraction.
But the laughter quickly faded when another report appeared on the screen, showing unsettling images of people wearing masks and emergency workers rushing through crowded streets. "First the fires, now this... This is not just another flu epidemic," the anchor said gravely.
The little girl's heart began to race, and a feeling of dread crept up her spine. She looked to her parents. Her mother's face had lost its color, worry lining her eyes, and Madylin saw her father's jaw tighten as he shared a worried glance with her mother. Their silent exchange hung heavily in the room.
"What does he mean...?" Nick began innocently, but his voice trailed off into uncertainty. At only twelve, he still believed that nothing could harm them as long as their parents were there.
"Don't worry about it," their father replied with a forced cheerfulness, though Madylin noticed a tremor in his voice. "Mom will handle it." Even as he spoke, she sensed doubt behind his confident tone; he was trying to protect them. They were too young to grasp everything happening.
