A young woman stood near the edge of the quarantine zone, her appearance strangely untouched by the devastation surrounding her.
Amidst the paralyzed infected, their twisted forms frozen in grotesque stillness, and the ruins of shattered buildings, she stood out like a beacon, a figure of effortless elegance and beauty that seemed utterly out of place.
She looked no older than sixteen, her golden-blonde hair cascading down her back in soft waves, catching the faint light in a way that gave her an almost halo-like aura.
Her violet eyes sparkled with an energy that seemed to clash with the oppressive gloom, a playful, lively brightness that ignored the grim reality around her.
Her attire—a simple, flowing ivory dress with subtle gold accents—was graceful yet incongruous, more suited to a garden party than to a disaster zone.
