"It's morning again!"
Ariciah's breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as she leaned against a weathered stone wall, the sounds of city life filling her ears. The honking cars, the murmur of people chatting on sidewalks, and the hum of distant construction, it was so ordinary, so different from the silence of a world overrun by the dead.
It's great to be back.
She pressed her fingers into the rough texture of the wall, grounding herself, trying to convince herself that this was real. The sun was warm against her skin, a sensation she hadn't felt in what seemed like forever.
It's great that I can still walk peacefully.
For a moment, the thought that she might have gone mad crossed her mind. Was this some kind of sick delusion? Had the infection twisted her memories into a distorted dream before death?
Was it all just a vision or my wild imagination?
But as she looked around, she recognized the familiar streets of the capital city, bustling with life, not a trace of the horrors she remembered.
It took her several minutes before she could push herself away from the wall and step back into the flow of people on the sidewalk. Everything about the city seemed too vivid, each passing face, every burst of laughter from a nearby café, the scent of freshly baked bread from a corner bakery.
I miss the ordinary.
Her senses felt heightened, sharpened by the raw edge of survival instincts she had honed during those years in the apocalypse. But beneath the relief that the world was not yet lost, dread gnawed at her.
I've changed indeed, and so will the world.
She knew that in two months, everything would crumble into chaos. The carefree faces around her would twist into masks of fear and desperation. She couldn't look at them without seeing flashes of their future selves, hollow-eyed, gaunt, fleeing from the infected that would ravage the city.
Ariciah slipped into a narrow alleyway, trying to escape the overwhelming crowds. Leaning against the shadows, she took a moment to assess herself. Coincidentally, she wore the same clothes she had died in, torn jeans, a faded jacket, and scuffed boots.
I can't believe I chose this outfit before going out today.
The pain and exhaustion she had felt in her final moments were gone, replaced by the energy of a body that was no longer weakened by starvation and injury. But the haunting memories of her final days weighed heavy on her mind. She clenched her fists, feeling the surge of frustration welling up.
"Why am I here?" she whispered to the empty alley. "Why now?"
As if in answer, a tingling sensation spread across her skin. Ariciah froze, feeling the air shift around her.
She glanced down at her hands, only to find them disappearing before her eyes. Her heart leaped into her throat. The edges of her body blurred, fading into the background until she was no longer visible.
She gasped, stumbling backward against the alley wall, and in that instant, the strange sensation vanished. Her hands reappeared, trembling as she held them up to her face. What was that? A hallucination? Or some kind of gift, an ability that came with her second chance?
She closed her eyes, focusing on the memory of that fleeting moment.
She tried to recreate the feeling of blending into the shadows, imagining herself as part of the air. This time, the shift was smoother, and the sensation was more controlled. She opened her eyes to see her arms vanish again, her body becoming a part of the dim alleyway.
Ariciah's thoughts raced.
She wasn't just back.
She had been given a talent.
A way to hide, to move unnoticed in a world where invisibility could mean survival.
But why? Why this power, and why her?
As the questions spun through her mind, she forced herself to focus. There would be time to ponder the 'why' later, right now, she needed to understand what this power meant for her and what she could do with it.
She released her focus, and her body reappeared. A rush of exhaustion swept over her, as if she had run a long distance. Ariciah leaned heavily against the wall, breathing hard. It seemed that using this ability took more out of her than she'd expected.
The bustling noise of the city seeped back into her awareness, reminding her of how alien this place now felt to her. She had once lived this life, commuting, working, and going through the motions under her mother's expectations.
Now, the idea of returning to that routine felt impossible. She had to face the truth. This was a different version of the world she had known, and she was no longer the person who belonged here. The apocalypse had left its mark on her, even if no one else could see it.
Pushing herself upright, Ariciah stepped back into the light. She needed to understand the extent of her new abilities, but more importantly, she needed to figure out how to prepare for the catastrophe that was looming on the horizon. She couldn't afford to waste time.
If this second chance meant anything, it meant she had to do better, and be better prepared for the end of days.
She began to walk through the city, navigating the familiar streets while keeping her ears open. Passing by a newsstand, she caught sight of the date in a newspaper. It confirmed what she had already sensed, two months.
She had two months before the infection would start spreading in the city, before the lockdowns and the panic. The memory of her own frantic attempts to flee the city returned, a vivid flash of barricades, blocked roads, and the cries of people who realized too late that there was no escape.
Ariciah's jaw clenched. She couldn't go through that again. She wouldn't. But how could she prepare?
She had no weapons, no allies, and no resources beyond the knowledge in her head. As she pondered her next move, her thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of something tugging at her mind, a pull from deep within her consciousness.
What's happening?
Without quite understanding why, she followed the sensation, ducking into another quiet corner of the city. She closed her eyes, letting the pull guide her until she felt herself slipping away from the physical world.
When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in a strange space, a vast, empty plain that stretched out endlessly in all directions.
Where am I?
It was ethereal, a place that seemed to exist outside of reality. Ariciah turned in a slow circle, trying to make sense of this new realm.
She reached out to touch the air, and the moment her thoughts focused on the word "storage," a small shelf appeared before her, holding a handful of canned food she hadn't realized she was carrying.
Her breath caught. It wasn't just a space, it was connected to her, a part of her that she could shape and control.
A place where she could keep supplies, a safe haven that existed beyond the reach of the infected and the chaos of the world outside. The potential of this space sent a shiver of excitement through her. It wasn't much yet, but it could become her lifeline when the world crumbled.
Ariciah emerged from the virtual space, a plan beginning to take shape in her mind. She would use these abilities, both the invisibility and the virtual space, to prepare.
She would gather supplies, weapons, and anything that could help her survive. But more than that, she would learn from her past mistakes. This time, she wouldn't be caught unprepared. This time, she would find a way to change the future.
The streets of the city continued to bustle around her, oblivious to the storm that was approaching. Ariciah moved through them like a shadow, a grim determination settling into her heart.
She had two months to get ready, two months to become strong enough to face the horrors that were coming. And she wouldn't waste a single second of this second chance.
Like a heroine, I have a golden finger!