Chapter 2Queen Rising From The Ruins

The next morning, the aggressive pounding on my door startled me awake.

Two perimeter guards I didn't recognize stood outside, tossing a heavily patched, stained hazmat suit at my feet.

They looked at me with dead eyes. "Orders from the Purifier. Starting today, you’re assigned to debris clearing in Sector D. All mutant carcasses are your responsibility."

I froze. "Sector D? The toxicity levels there breached the safety threshold weeks ago."

One of the guards nudged the suit with his boot. "The Purifier says Healers have a higher resistance to the Blight than normal folks. Makes you the perfect fit."

I knelt and picked up the heavy, foul-smelling canvas. "Where’s the rest of the protective gear? Masks? Gloves?"

"That’s all you get." The second guard pointed at the suit. His voice softened, just a fraction. "Look, Cara. I wouldn't cross her if I were you. The whole Citadel dances to her tune now. You—"

Before he could finish, his partner grabbed him by the tactical vest and yanked him away.

As they walked off, I heard the partner hiss, "Why are you talking to her? You want the Purifier to hear about this and throw us out there with her?"

The whisper was quiet, but it rang in my ears like a gunshot.

Sector D was the absolute fringe of the Citadel, a wasteland of shattered concrete and twisted rebar. It was the most heavily contaminated zone we had. The carcasses of the Scourge were scattered everywhere. The air was thick with a putrid stench—a sickening cocktail of rotting meat and rusted iron that made me dry heave the moment I arrived.

I had no gloves. No respirator. The side seam of the hazmat suit tore open the first time I bent over.

Within an hour, the jagged edges of the infected debris had sliced my hands open in half a dozen places. The blood welled up, immediately mixing with the toxic gray ash covering the bones, making the cuts burn and itch with a fiery intensity.

I stopped, chest heaving, and looked around the desolate landscape.

When I was in the Core Sector, whenever I used my energy to heal a scout, they would look at me with weary gratitude. Thanks for keeping us alive, Cara. Someone would always save me a bowl of hot soup. Someone would always take over my shift when I looked like I was about to pass out.

Now, there was nothing.

The same scouts walked past the perimeter wire today, but when they saw me, they ducked their heads and quickened their pace.

Suddenly, my foot slipped on a patch of slick ash. My hand shot out to catch myself, and a jagged shard of infected bone drove straight into my palm.

Blood sprayed. I sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, falling to my knees in the dirt.

My fingers trembling, I ripped a strip of fabric from the torn sleeve of the suit, wound it tightly around my palm, and bit down on the end to pull the knot tight, cutting off the circulation.

Crouched behind a pile of rotting debris, my mind drifted back to the first year of the collapse.

I had been running from three mutated hounds. I had lost my shoes miles back, and the soles of my feet were shredded by broken glass, leaving a trail of bloody footprints. I had backed myself into a corner, curled into a ball, shaking violently. I was so sure I was going to die.

And then Holden dropped from the sky.

His blade cleaved cleanly through the skull of the lead hound. Black blood splattered across his jaw. He didn't even wipe it off. He just rushed over, dropping to his knees in front of me. "Where are you hurt?"

"Don't be afraid. You’re radiating meta-energy. Stay with me. I will never let anyone hurt you."

He was so fiercely sincere back then. I believed him. I turned down the recruitment offers from three other major factions just to stay by his side.

By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, I shoved the final cart of contaminated debris into the incinerator pit.

My legs shook uncontrollably as I dragged myself back toward the residential ring. In the distance, the main compound glowed with warm, buttery light.

As I walked past the Grand Hall, silhouettes danced against the frosted glass. Laughter bled through the walls.

Tonight was day two of Debby’s welcome festival. Holden was throwing her a private banquet.

"I want you to feed it to me."

"Alright. Open up." Holden’s voice, a low rumble I used to feel against my spine in the dark. "Is it sweet?"

"So sweet."

"Are you talking about the fruit, or me?"

"You're awful~"

Then, the unmistakable, sickening sound of shifting fabrics and wet kisses.

I didn't stop to listen to the rest. I pulled my collar up and vanished into the freezing dark.

The laughter chased me down the dirt road. It felt like I was running through a field of arrows, and every single one had my name on it.