The ruins of the old city smoldered in silence, a silence broken only by the groans of the dead. Once-proud arches now crumbled into dust, their shadows stretching like skeletal fingers across the cracked streets. The fog was thick, laced with the stench of rot, and in its depths lurked the restless undead.
Damien Rook tightened his grip on the reins. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed ahead, but every nerve in his body screamed with awareness. He had been a lawman once, back when law meant something. Now, law was survival, and survival meant never stopping long enough for the horde to catch up.
Behind him, clutching his waist with trembling hands, Zara buried her face against his back. Her fiery hair tangled in the wind, strands clinging to his coat. She wanted to ask if they were safe, but the answer was already painted across the ruins around them. No place was safe—not anymore.
A low moan echoed. Then another. From the shattered doorways and collapsed windows, corpses stirred, dragging themselves into the street. Hollow eyes fixed on the living. The horse snorted nervously, hooves clattering on stone as Damien urged it forward.
The groans grew louder. The horde was waking.
"Hold tight," Damien muttered, his voice calm but edged with urgency.
Zara's fingers dug deeper into his side. She risked a glance back—and wished she hadn't. Dozens of them, their skin like melted wax, mouths hanging open, staggered after them. Some still wore rags of uniforms, others shredded dresses and suits. The dead had no time for memory; they only hungered.
The ground shook.
Zara's heart froze as a shadow loomed over the street, swallowing even the undead in its presence. From behind the ruins, something massive stirred—scales glistening in the fog, teeth the size of swords flashing in the pale light. A roar ripped through the night, shaking stone from the broken walls.
Damien didn't look back. He didn't need to. The stories had been true. The world hadn't just resurrected the dead—it had unearthed monsters older than time.
A Tyrannosaur.
Its colossal head broke through the mist, eyes glowing with a feral hunger. The undead turned, distracted by the beast's presence, but it didn't care for carrion. Its gaze fixed on the horse, on the riders of warm flesh and blood.
The horse screamed and bolted. Damien fought to keep control as the animal leapt over debris, weaving through the clutching arms of the dead. Zara held on for dear life, the world spinning around her.
The roar came again, closer this time. A crash of stone followed as the beast forced its way through the ruins.
Zara finally found her voice, though it trembled. "Damien… it's not just the dead anymore."
"No," he said, his tone grim. "It never was."
The city of the dead had revealed its true horror. And Damien knew this was only the beginning.