The sky had been a bruised gray for as long as Kian could remember, a color that seemed to seep into the land below, as if the earth itself were mourning. There was no sun anymore, just a constant haze that kept the warmth of daylight away. The air was thick with the residue of years of war, of careless tampering with forces too wild and volatile to control. The radiation had turned the world upside down, twisting nature into something alien and monstrous. But amidst the destruction, Kian and his dog, Remy, remained untouched.
It had been five years since the last human had been seen, since the great cities had fallen silent, their once-proud spires reduced to rubble and ash. Kian had been just a boy then, barely ten, when the world ended. He remembered it clearly, even now, like a series of snapshots seared into his mind—the scream of his mother as the first wave of bombs fell, the chaos as his father tried to get them to safety, and the terrible silence that followed, when the air itself seemed to die.
The people had gone first, succumbing to the radiation and the horrors it wrought. But it wasn't just humans that suffered. Animals had been twisted, too, turned into horrific beasts that roamed the desolate lands, their bodies malformed and their minds driven mad by the poison in the air. The forests had been destroyed, the oceans poisoned. The world, once teeming with life, had become a wasteland.
But Kian and Remy—Remy, his loyal dog—had survived. It was a miracle, if miracles still existed in a world like this. Somehow, they had both been immune to the radiation, untouched by the beasts that had once been their neighbors. Maybe it was fate, or perhaps it was something more, something Kian couldn't understand. But it didn't matter. He was alone now. Alone with Remy.
Remy was the only family he had left.
The dog was a mix of breeds—part shepherd, part mutt—but in the wasteland, Remy had become more than just a pet. He was Kian's protector, his only companion, and the closest thing to a friend that Kian had. The dog's brown eyes, always alert, had a sadness to them, as if he, too, mourned the lost world.
Together, they wandered the barren streets of what had once been their home. A sprawling city—now little more than skeletal remains, the shells of buildings jutting out of the cracked earth. Kian didn't know what had happened to the people here—whether they had fled before the radiation took its toll, or if they had simply perished in the streets. He had searched for other survivors in the early years, but every attempt had ended in disappointment. The others were either dead or had turned into something unrecognizable.
He didn't know why he kept searching, why he still bothered to make his way through the ruins. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was simply the need to believe that there was still something worth living for. But every day, as the two of them walked through the remains of a once-bustling world, Kian couldn't help but feel the weight of the silence pressing down on him. A world without people, without life. It was like walking through a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. He wasn't sure anymore.
But Remy was always by his side, walking with him as if the two of them were still a part of something larger, something that hadn't completely fallen apart. The dog would sniff the air, ears perked for any sign of danger, while Kian kept a sharp eye on the shadows, always on alert for any movement. The beasts—those that were left—still roamed the earth, though they were few and far between. Most of them had retreated into the deeper wilderness, avoiding the remnants of human civilization. But the danger was always there, lurking in the forgotten corners of the world.
One day, while they were scavenging through a half-collapsed building, Kian found something that made his heart skip a beat. At first, he thought it was just another piece of wreckage, just another relic from the old world. But as he pushed aside the debris, his eyes caught a flash of light. It was a mirror, its surface cracked and weathered, but still intact enough to reflect the world around him. Kian stared at his reflection—his thin, gaunt face, the dirt caked onto his skin, the hollow eyes that stared back at him with a kind of weary sadness.
He hadn't seen his reflection in years. There hadn't been a mirror in the world since the bombs fell, no glass to reflect his image. It was a strange sensation to see himself again, to see how much he had changed in those five years. He looked different, older somehow, even though he was still a boy in many ways. But the boy who had once been full of life, who had laughed and played and dreamed, was gone. In his place stood a survivor, a child who had learned to navigate a world that no longer made sense.
Kian dropped the mirror, turning away from it. He couldn't bear to look at it any longer.
"Let's go, Remy," he said softly, his voice hoarse from lack of use.
The dog barked once, a sound that seemed too loud in the stillness, and followed him as they left the building behind. They moved through the city, past collapsed walls and shattered windows, over streets once paved with stone now broken and uneven. Kian had long stopped counting the days, the weeks, the months. Time didn't mean much anymore, not when every day felt like the same endless stretch of survival.
As they passed a crumbling park, Kian caught sight of something in the distance—movement, fleeting but unmistakable. His heart lurched in his chest.
"Remy..." Kian whispered, crouching low. The dog immediately went still, his ears flicking in the direction of the movement. They both watched as a figure emerged from behind a ruined building, stumbling into the open.
It wasn't a beast, nor was it a monster. It was... a person. Or at least, it looked like a person. Kian's heart skipped a beat.
"Hello?" Kian called out cautiously, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope.
The figure stopped, its back turned to him. It was tall, hunched over, and its movements were jerky, as if it had been walking for days without rest. The figure wore ragged clothes, tattered and torn, and its skin was pale, almost gray. But there was something about the way it stood, the way it breathed. It didn't seem like one of the beasts that roamed the earth, but Kian couldn't be sure.
"Who's there?" Kian called again, louder this time. His voice cracked as he spoke, the words feeling foreign on his tongue.
The figure turned slowly, revealing a face that was gaunt, hollow-eyed, and covered in a layer of dirt. Kian's breath caught in his throat. It was a woman. A woman, alive, standing in the middle of the ruined world. But her eyes—her eyes were empty, distant, as if she hadn't truly seen anything for a long time.
"Are you... are you alive?" Kian asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't believe it. He had spent years searching for someone, anyone, and here was someone standing right before him.
The woman blinked, her gaze unfocused for a moment, before she slowly nodded.
"I... I think so," she said, her voice rough, as if she hadn't spoken in ages. Her eyes scanned Kian's face, and then her gaze shifted to Remy, who stood alert beside him. For a moment, there was silence.
"My name is Kian," he said, taking a tentative step forward. "And this is Remy. We... we thought we were the last ones."
The woman's lips parted as if she were about to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes darted around the desolate landscape, and Kian could see the fear, the confusion, in her expression.
"How... how are you still here?" she finally managed, her voice barely a whisper.
Kian didn't know how to answer. He had no explanation, no reason why he and Remy had survived when everyone else had been lost. He only knew that he had to keep going, that he couldn't stop searching, even if the world had crumbled to dust.
"We don't know," Kian said softly, his gaze falling to the ground. "But we've been alone for so long. I don't know if there's anyone else out there."
The woman swallowed hard, her face softening for the first time since Kian had seen her. She took a step forward, her hand outstretched, as if reaching for something, anything, that could connect her to the world she had once known.
"I'm Maya," she said quietly. "I thought I was the last. I didn't know there was anyone else."
For the first time in years, Kian allowed himself to hope. Maybe the world wasn't entirely lost after all. Maybe there were more survivors, more people who had managed to hold on, just like he and Remy had.
Together, they stood in the middle of the ruined city, two survivors in a world that had been forgotten by time. And for the first time in a long while, Kian felt the faintest flicker of something that had been missing for so long—hope.