Morning came, though the sun barely fought through the pall of ash that hung in the sky. No birds sang. No traffic hummed. The world beyond John’s house was motionless, stripped of life. The wind made dry grass hiss against the chain-link fence outside, and the occasional creak of solar panels twisting toward a sickly sun cut through the dead quiet.

Inside, the house smelled of old wood, sweat, and fear. Windows were blacked out with whatever they could find — bedsheets, duct tape, garbage bags. The only light came in thin slits around the curtains, bleeding gold into the dim, tense space.

The place was far from a bunker. No sandbags. No walls of steel. Just a regular home at 8500 Fernwood Avenue, nestled in the broken heart of California City. But it was a roof, and in this new world, that made it sacred.

Michelle sat cross-legged on a worn cot near the window, fingers tugging at the frayed edge of her jacket. She wasn’t really looking outside — not anymore. There was nothing to see out there but the occasional dragging shape, hunched and mindless. Her eyes had turned inward, searching for something none of them could name.

Across the room, Gussa leaned against a shelf lined with emergency rations and empty water bottles. His chest was bare, bruises darkening his skin like ink stains. Each breath came ragged, each heartbeat carrying a strange, electric pulse. It was like his body was humming — a barely audible frequency that only he seemed to hear.

“John…” Michelle’s voice was low, tight, fragile. “Where’s Ian? Terriq? And Benjamin… your brother?”

John looked up from where he sat at the kitchen table, hunched over a spread of old road maps and a disassembled radio. He gripped a dried-out Sharpie, scrawling barely-legible notes over the faded paper. His face was pale, smudged with soot and grime, hair clumped to his forehead.

He hesitated before answering. His voice was hoarse. “They left yesterday morning. Headed back toward Barstow. We got word… someone saw Ben, holed up with a family at an old gas station out there. Terriq and Ian insisted on going after him.”

Michelle’s lips parted, her breath catching. “That was… three days ago.”

“I know.” John set the marker down, carefully, like it might explode. “We haven’t heard from them since. And if they’re not back by tonight… I’m going after them myself.”

The words left a chill in the room.

Michelle’s voice sharpened. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

John sighed, leaning back in the old kitchen chair. “Because it wouldn’t change a damn thing. We can’t spare people chasing ghosts. I thought they might be back by now.”

A strained silence followed, thick with unspoken fears.

Gussa hadn’t spoken. He stood apart, staring down at his open hands like they belonged to someone else. There was a pressure in his chest — not pain, but a presence. A slow, steady flicker that wasn’t quite his heartbeat. It was something deeper, older, and impossibly vast.

John noticed.

“You feel it, don’t you?” John said softly, pushing away from the table and approaching.

Gussa met his gaze, wary. “Feel what?”

John tapped his own chest, over his sternum. “The mana. It’s waking up in you. You probably don’t even know what it is yet. Most people don’t notice for weeks, maybe months. But you… you’re like a cracked lantern with a storm inside.”

Gussa looked back down at his trembling fingers. They didn’t look any different. But everything felt different.

Before anyone could speak again, a sudden burst of static crackled from the half-dead emergency radio. Every head turned. A voice cut through the haze.

“—This is Ian. Repeat, this is Ian. We’re alive. Took shelter in an old gas station north of Lucerne Valley. Terriq’s with me. We’ve got the kid. He’s safe. Repeat—Ben’s safe. But we’re surrounded. We won’t last the night—”

Then static.

The room froze.

John’s face hardened. His voice was quiet, but absolute. “I’m going.”

Michelle stepped forward. “John, wait—”

“I’ll handle it.” His voice left no room for argument.

He moved to the center of the living room, rolling up his sleeves. Golden light pulsed faintly beneath his skin, his veins lit like distant lightning beneath the surface.

“Don’t blink,” he said — and vanished in a burst of light, luminous shards scattering in the air like dying stars.

The house fell into a profound, uneasy stillness.

Even the infected shapes outside seemed to pause.

Fifteen agonizing minutes later, light exploded in the room. John reappeared, bloodied and heaving for breath. In his arms was a small boy, wrapped in a tattered blanket. Five ragged, half-dead survivors staggered through the shimmering rift behind him. Among them were Ian and Terriq, their clothes torn, faces hollowed by fear and blood loss. Terriq still clung to a rusted bat wound with barbed wire.

“Inside. Now,” John ordered.

The door was slammed, barricades dragged back into place. The newcomers collapsed into chairs, against walls, onto the floor.

Benjamin clung to John’s leg with shaking arms.

Later, when wounds had been bound and precious food passed around, the survivors gathered in the living room, drawn together by gravity heavier than grief.

John looked across them. His gaze landed on Gussa.

“I can feel your mana,” he said. “It’s raw. Buried deep. But it’s there.”

Lina glanced up from where she poured cloudy water into a rusted tin mug. “He’s got the look, too. Like he’s seeing past the edges.”

“It’s not just sight,” Hailie murmured from her spot atop a nest of blankets. Her dark clothes made her blend with the shadows. “It’s a boundary break.”

John reached into his jacket and drew out something dark and jagged. A crystal, shimmering purple-black, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

“Six years ago,” John said, “out by Joshua Tree… I fought a thing. A coyote, but… wrong. Like it crawled out of someone’s nightmare. After it died, I found this inside it.” He held the crystal higher. “Didn’t know what it was. So I did the stupidest thing I could. I ate it.”

Eyes widened.

John gave a humorless laugh. “Burned like acid. Felt like my bones would shatter. But it… woke something up. Heavenly Radiance. Nearly killed me. But while I was dying… I saw it. The end. Cities burning. The dead walking. And you, Gussa.” His gaze locked on him. “Standing in the middle of it all, glowing like a god… bleeding like a man.”

The room shuddered in the quiet.

Martina finally spoke. “And you three… you awakened before all this?”

John nodded. “I figured out how to force an awakening a year ago. Damn near killed them.” He gestured at Lina and Hailie. “But I knew it was coming. I saw it. I had to get ready.”

Hailie pushed up, hair falling across one eye. “The virus didn’t come from a lab. Not a parasite. Not a weapon. It came from the ground. From the holes in reality — Hellmouths.”

Gussa’s brow creased. “Hellmouths?”

“Portals to Sheol,” she said, voice cold and steady. “The virus… it’s demonic mana. Corrupted life-force, leaking from the cracks between worlds. The infection doesn’t just kill — it taints. And only people with resonance to natural mana — what we call the Trifold Radiance — can survive the exposure.”

Taylor spoke softly. “So… we’re immune?”

“To the infection, yes,” Hailie answered. “But not to dying. Not to getting ripped apart. But your blood won’t rot. Your mind won’t collapse. The rest of the world? They never stood a chance.”

John crossed his arms. “That’s why we keep quiet. That’s why we don’t reach out. You never know who’s sensitive and who’s dead weight.”

Gussa dropped onto the couch, head in his hands. Everything — the loss of Zion, the horror on the road, the flickering in his veins — crashed down like a tidal wave. “So… how do I fight it?”

The room went still.

They were all watching him now. Not with curiosity — but with hope. He could see it in their eyes.

John laid a firm hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll train you. We’ll fight. You’re here for a reason. Don’t waste it.”

He smiled grimly.

“You’re going to need to learn, Gussa. Fast. Because the Crucible’s out there — and it’s not just making monsters anymore.”

A beat of silence.

“It’s birthing new gods.”

The wind outside howled, carrying the stench of death and something worse.

But for the first time since the world had ended — something else moved too.

Hope.