Growing Up Post Apocalyptic

Six years ago the rains fell and people changed. They became crazed, wild and animalistic. They became driven by the basest urges to eat and reproduce in the only way they were able - by blood based transmission.

Six years ago Ívarr Gunnar's family fled to the seaside. Five and a half years ago they took to the streets, fighting to stay alive and endure in a world which had gone to hell. By now this is normal, you wake up holding your pistol, you shoot a revenant and you eat breakfast. You bathe in whatever fast running body of water you can find and hope it doesn't kill whatever is left of the humanity within you.

Drake Vanguard never asked for any of this. He never asked to be taken as collateral when Malek Fey overran the Vanguards. He never asked to become the unofficial bastard son of a whole family of literal bastards. He never asked to bond to the youngest son, Ívarr Gunnar was never supposed to be on his radar. Yet here he is.

Growing up post-apocalyptic was never going to be easy, but the age old rule of never falling in love with the enemy just seems so redundant now.