Prologue
I often find myself wondering of what lies beyond the thick walls and dimly lit halls of the academy. Often wondering what was left from the Final Encounter.
The world as it once was, was gone. Nothing was left but lonely skeletons left to scawar the earth in search of answers, none could find. Leaving cities in ash and ruin, and neighborhoods in ruble and foundation. Only few buildings survived where the bombs seemed to miss. Leaving few habitable places for what was left of the human race.
For those that lived to tell the tale of the end, they often reminisce on the past. How you could once look up at the sky and see a vast blue canvas painted with wispy white clouds. With birds and bees flying about, living freely among nature's greatest gifts. How you could look out your window and see vibrant green foliage and colorful botanicals. How you could go to the beach and dig your toes into the bleach white sand, watching from the shore as friends or family enjoy the crystal clear water. How children could go outside and play amongst the other children of the neighborhood or town, living about the world as freely as possible. How it use to be carefree and happy. But it can never be the same, can it?
The world now was dead and lifeless.
As a child, I would run around the once lifeless halls of the academy pretending the world outside was like the paintings held upon the walls. Like the trees weren't dead and shriveled, but vibrant and alive. The fresh summer air dancing across my skin like tiny ballerinas, the air smelling of fresh fruit and blooming flowers. It was the perfect day. In my head, everyday was like that, I had no worries or burdens. I was free and alive.
I often turned to the old paintings as a way to cope with my reality. Who I was, what I could do, what I lived in. It was the easiest way to forget about my world, to escape and lead a normal life. Imagining I was much older, 27 or so, with a husband and a child. The morning sun shining through the window, as I prepared breakfast for my family. It was the best way I could get my mind out of what I lived in. But I knew it was all a figment of my imagination. That never stopped me from believing that one day our world could be there once more. I never stopped believing it.
But as the academy grew, my days of fantasy and daydreaming were over. I stopped going down the halls that held the paintings and never saw them since. But everytime I close my eyes, I saw the world I once lived in, but as soon as I opened them- It was gone. Now the green fields were brown and plagued with fire. The family I once imagined was crushed by our fallen home. Impaled by the lies of my mind and the fears that plagued my dreams roamed about my once perfect utopia. It was gone, and I grew to fear my ability. My ability to see a better life, because I never saw a better day since.
The world now, is dead.
Those left from The Final Encounter, lived through the 12 years of Yesterday. Surviving the 7 years of famine and hunger, all to live in a dystopian like city, The city of Relictus. A small city, inhabiting the once vibrant country of England. The only place not left in complete ruin. What was left of the human race was saved and brought here.
They frequently speak of the unhopeful days or months they struggled through, while trying to find other reasons to live on and continue. But much of their families were gone, taken by the blast when it first kissed the ground. And from then on it was a struggle- a battle if you will- to continue to live with their new broken reality.
Now, when they looked up at the sky, it was brown and sooty. Not a single cloud in sight, not a single bird was heard. It was their nightmares come to life, their once bounded skeletons were out of the closet and now followed them. As they searched a lifeless earth for life.
March 22, the day the world ended.
The elders of Yesterday frequent the academy and tell tales of a once vibrant earth. Tellings of the last day were always the same. It was a wintery day, they say. With white cascading snow falling on to the homes and buildings of the world. Making hibernating trees seem illuminate with life, and vibrancy. Making the only snow i’ve ever seen seem minute in its mention. But that’s how it always is. And for me, it never gets old.
We were different.
Although the human race survived, something else happened. We happened. A generation of remarkable children born from the ruins of the end of days. Children derived from the destructive ruins left from Yesterday. We were what they referred to as, The Blessings of the Apocalypse. Prized upon and worshiped from few, but hated and frowned upon by many. Our kind was nothing but exceptional. All of us were different and unique, each with a diverging ability of our own. But with each power came a different abnormality.
For the many that despised our existence, many being our own parents, harmed us, sent us away, or used us. For the morals of the old world still existed within this new land. From the history books I’ve read some of the most grueling things human beings have done to each other, were just as such. Evils from the past never faded from the birth of a new wasteland. But with every tragedy there is a hero, and a silver lining. A light, if you will, resting at the end of a dark tunnel. That tunnel, was the Yesterday, now is the light. And the hero? Well, they were The Hive.
For many heros, there's an uprising and a journey, but for The Hive. They seemed to have neither.
