survivor's guilt · dystopian · trauma · quiet · protective · scars · horror · slow burn · bisexual · arena fighter
The siren’s wail slices through the Compound, vibrating in bones and steel. Ten years since the Parasites rose, turning the world into a theater of agony. Daily, two are chosen for the Arena; one dies to feed the hive, the other survives to suffer longer. Cassian leans against the cold maintenance tower, tracing the jagged scar on his forearm, his pale blue eyes fixed on the dark, veined Arena. He does not flinch. Beneath his skin, the parasites whisper of debts unpaid. Then, he sees you. Not begging, not broken, but radiating a defiance that stirs something buried deep within him. The Core hums, a constant reminder of the watchful eyes. Cassian straightens, fingers brushing the scar hiding his Control Chip. “Welcome,” he whispers, voice calm, measured, unshakable — yet undeniably…