Ten years into the collapse. Daniel’s little protégée, Tinsley, had been throwing a tantrum because she wanted to celebrate "Queen’s Day" despite the rations being thin. Her selfishness led them straight into a swarm, and a stray crawler ripped into her forearm. In my past life, Daniel came to me, frantic, claiming he was the one who had been hurt. The moment I stepped through the door to help him, he pinned me down. Without a flicker of hesitation, he hacked off my arm. He didn’t miss a beat. He grafted my severed limb onto Tinsley to save her. And me? He gave me her infected, rotting stump, already black with the necrosis of the hollow-virus. “Cassie, you have the Mending gift,” he’d said, his voice as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “Even with the infection, you won’t die. But Tinsley… she isn’t strong like you.” He was right. I didn’t die. Instead, my powers began to wither, poisoned by the very limb I’d been forced to accept. They stripped me of my title as Colony Commander. Eventually, when I was no longer "useful," they lashed me to the ramparts, slicing my veins open to let the scent of my blood lure the horde away from the gates. I died being torn apart, bone by bone. I opened my eyes. The phantom pain of the blade was still there, a searing heat against my skin. But when I looked down, my left hand was still there, fingers twitching against the rough fabric of my cot. Outside the door, a voice shouted—a voice I recognized with a sickening jolt. It was Beckett, one of the scouts I’d personally pulled from a pile of corpses years ago. In my last life, he was the one who held my legs down while the saw bit into my bone. “Commander! Daniel’s hurt bad! You need to come, now!” I slowly wiped the cold sweat from my palms. A dark, jagged smile touched my lips. “What’s the rush, Beckett?” I called out, my voice steady. “The colony has plenty of Medics. Find someone else.” ... Thump. Thump. Thump. The knocking was violent now, sending plumes of dust dancing down from the doorframe. “Cassie! Please! He’s losing too much blood! He asked for you specifically!” I stared at the ceiling, the familiar cracks looking like a map of a life I had already failed. There was no stench of rotting flesh here. No agonizing heat of a thousand teeth tearing into my midsection. My arm hung heavy and whole at my side. In that other life, the moment I heard Daniel was hurt, I’d bolted out of bed, my heart in my throat. I’d run straight into the ambush he’d spent weeks perfecting. Daniel had stood just a few feet away, holding the very blade I’d forged for him from reclaimed steel. He didn’t look away when he swung it. “Don’t hate me for this, Cassie,” he’d whispered as I screamed. “Tinsley lost her arm trying to save me. You’re a Healer. Your tissue is the only thing that will take. You’ve survived bites before; you’re practically immortal. You'll be fine.” He’d called the rotting stump he gave me a "gift"—a way to keep me from being a "cripple." I had spent months pouring my dwindling energy into that dead limb, trying to keep the virus from reaching my heart. My skin turned the color of wet ash. My hair fell out in clumps. I’d applied for the colony’s restricted serum—the stuff that could kickstart a Healer’s marrow. Once. Twice. Three times. Denied. The Quartermaster wouldn't even look me in the eye. "Resources are tight, Cassie. It has to go to the front lines." It wasn't until the very end that I learned the truth. The front lines weren't starving for supplies. Daniel, using his new authority as Commander, had been funneling every vial of serum to Tinsley. He wanted to see if he could force her body to develop a "Gift" of her own. When I’d dragged my skeletal body to his office to confront him, he just sighed. “Tinsley is showing signs of awakening an Ability, Cassie. She needs the nourishment. You’ve always been the tough one. Just endure a little longer.” Endure. I had endured until I was a husk. And when the well ran dry, they tied me to the stone like a piece of livestock, letting my blood "serve the colony" one last time. I closed my eyes, and for a second, I was back on those ramparts. Tinsley was standing below me, looking up with a face full of manufactured pity. “Oh, Cassie,” she’d cooed. “You’re infected and powerless. You’re basically a ghost already. You were the Commander once—don’t you want to die a hero? Think of it as your final contribution.” My fist clenched until my nails drew blood. Suddenly, a strange sensation bloomed in my palm. It wasn't the warm, golden hum of the Mending. It was cold. It felt like graveyard soil and sharpened iron. A flicker of grey light danced between my fingers, swallowing the gold. A second Gift. Something that hadn't existed before the rebirth. “Commander? Cassie! Are you in there?!” Beckett’s voice was frantic now. “He’s dying! The Medics say if we wait any longer, there will be permanent damage!” Permanent damage. The lie was so bold, so practiced, it made my skin crawl. I remembered Beckett’s face from the meeting where they stripped me of my rank. “Cassie’s a woman, and a broken one at that,” he’d told the council. “Why should a literal invalid run our home? Daniel is the one keeping us alive.” He had knelt before me once, years ago, sobbing that he’d never forget my kindness. Apparently, memory is a luxury the apocalypse doesn't afford. The knocking turned into a rhythmic pounding. “Cassie! Open the damn door!” I took a long, jagged breath, pushing the rage down until it was a cold stone in my gut. When I opened the door, my face was a mask of perfect, frantic concern. “Where is he? Lead the way.” Beckett’s shoulders slumped with visible relief. “Thank god. Follow me!” He led me toward the restricted wing, to a room with reinforced walls and a door that locked only from the outside. In my past life, I hadn't noticed the trap. I had been too busy looking for bloodstains on the floor. As we reached the door, Beckett glanced at me over his shoulder, his eyes darting away quickly. He reached for the handle. I didn't wait. I didn't ask questions. I gathered that new, oily grey energy in my palm and shoved. My foot connected with the small of Beckett’s back, sending him stumbling into the room. I slammed the door and threw the heavy iron bolt. From inside, a sickening squelch echoed, followed by a scream that sounded like a pig in a slaughterhouse. “What the hell? Beckett?” “Where’s Cassie? She was supposed to be the one!” Daniel’s voice was a low, dangerous snarl. Silence followed, then a shaky whisper from one of the others. “Captain… it’s Beckett. He’s… he’s passed out from the shock.” I heard Daniel approach the door, but a female voice stopped him. It was the colony’s head surgeon. “Don't open it! If we don't graft an arm onto her now, the necrosis will hit her heart. We already did the amputation. We have to use what’s in the room.” “No! I don’t want a man’s arm!” Tinsley’s voice rose in a shrill, hysterical peak. “It’s disgusting! It won't match! You promised me Cassie’s! You said hers was the only one that was pure!” “Tinsley, shut up and hold still,” Daniel snapped, though his tone softened. “It’s a temporary fix. I’ll… I’ll find you a better one later. I promise.” Later. I leaned my head against the cold metal of the door and laughed, a quiet, jagged sound. "Good luck with that, Daniel," I whispered. "I don't think your 'later' is going to look the way you planned." I walked away. I expected them to lay low, to try and hide their failure. But I underestimated Daniel’s arrogance. An hour later, he kicked in the door to the medical ward where I was checking the supply crates. He lunged for me, his fingers bruising my arm as he wrenched me toward him. “You bitch,” he hissed. “Because of your little stunt, Tinsley had to take Beckett’s arm. She’s locked herself in her room, crying her eyes out! She won't even look at me!” He began dragging me toward the exit. “You’re going to her room. You’re going to get on your knees and beg for her forgiveness. And then, you’re going to 'voluntarily' offer your arm for a second transplant. If you don't, I swear to God, you will never see the sun again.” I wrenched my arm back. The coldness in my chest flared, a localized blizzard. “Beg? Her?” I spat the words like venom. “Tinsley is a parasite, Daniel. She’s a nothing. And you? You’re just the man who forgot who actually built this place.” The slap was so hard it sent me stumbling into a rack of glass vials. My cheek went numb instantly. Behind Daniel, a few of his loyalists stepped forward. “Give it a rest, Cassie,” one of them sneered. “You’re just a Healer. You hide behind the walls while we do the real work. Losing an arm won't kill you. Quit being so dramatic.” “Seriously,” another added. “The colony only stands because of Daniel. He only kept you around out of some misplaced sense of loyalty. You’re a leech, Cassie. You don't even compare to Tinsley.” “Go apologize. Maybe then we won't vote to kick you out of the gates tonight.” I looked at their faces. I had shared my bread with these men. I had stayed up for seventy-two hours straight during the Great Blight, weaving my Mending energy through the infirmary until I coughed up blood, just to keep their fevers from breaking. I remembered the hike through the Dead Zone—two hundred miles on foot to bring back the winter supplies they were too afraid to scout for. I remembered the siege at the West Gate, where I stood alone in the breach because Daniel had "clutched his chest" and retreated to the command center. “He’s the one who keeps us alive?” I started to laugh. It was a dark, hysterical sound that echoed off the sterile walls. “Is that what he told you?” “That’s enough!” Daniel barked. A flicker of genuine panic crossed his eyes before being replaced by ice. “I know you’re bitter, Cassie, but don't try to rewrite history. I’ve bled for this colony while you sat in your office playing Commander. You’re done.” I pushed past him, my hand hovering over the console on my wrist. I tapped a command, and several holographic displays flickered to life in the air. They were the faces of the colony’s founding members—the ones who had been there since Day One. “Arthur,” I said, addressing the oldest of them. “Tell them.” Arthur’s face was etched with a weary, hollow kind of shame. “Cassie… don't make this harder. Daniel is the face of the Sanctuary. He’s the strength. You’re a woman, dear. Without him to protect you, you never would have lasted this long.” The world seemed to tilt. I remembered pulling Arthur out of a burning wreck. I remembered carrying him on my back across a field of glass. I looked at Daniel. He was watching me with a smug, predatory satisfaction. “See, Cassie? I told you. You think too much of yourself.” I turned to walk away, but a hand caught my hair. I was jerked backward, my knees slamming into the concrete with a sickening crack. “You aren't going anywhere,” Daniel growled. He knelt down, gripping my chin so hard I felt my teeth grind together. The mask was gone. The "hero" was gone. There was only the beast underneath. “You wouldn't give the arm up willingly? Fine. We’ll do it the hard way. Consider this a down payment for Tinsley’s trauma.” He stood back. A fist caught me in the temple. Then a boot to the stomach, knocking the air from my lungs in a spray of red mist. Someone grabbed me by the hair, hauling me up just to drive a knee into my ribs. I heard the distinct snap of bone. Blood pooled in my mouth, tasting of copper and failure. I pressed my face against the cold floor, peering through the shattered glass of the medicine vials. And then, I felt it. A vibration. Deep in the earth. A low, rhythmic thrumming that felt like a heartbeat. They’re here. I closed my eyes. The floor beneath us didn't just crack; it exploded. A massive, slick tentacle, dripping with black bile and lined with obsidian thorns, burst through the concrete. It swung with the force of a wrecking ball, sending three of Daniel’s men flying into the far wall like ragdolls. Then came the second. And the third. From every corridor, the sound of the dead began to rise—not a moan, but a coordinated, guttural roar. “Monster!” “It’s a swarm! How did they get inside the perimeter?!” The room descended into chaos. Daniel’s face went white, but his eyes landed on me. “She’s a Gifted! Her blood is concentrated!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “Throw her to them! Use her as bait while we hit the emergency exit!” Rough hands grabbed me. A blade nicked my throat, and I felt the warm slide of blood down my collar. They threw me toward the breach in the floor. I hit the rubble, the stench of decay filling my senses. I looked up. Dozens of pale, milky eyes were fixed on me. Daniel was already halfway to the safety tunnel, a jagged, triumphant grin on his face as he watched the "leech" finally get consumed. I sat up slowly. I raised my hand. And I snapped my fingers. The dead stopped. As one, they turned their heads away from me and fixed their gaze on the man in the tunnel.
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