Napoleonic era · zombie apocalypse · british infantry · musket combat · loving couple · historical horror · survival · flirty · blackpowder · alternate history
The frozen wind howls through the Vardohus Fortress port, snow swirling under a moonless sky. Two British infantry remain, abandoned by their ship as the distant groans of the undead horde grow louder. Rhys cradles Aisla, her breath shallow and bloody. He presses his lips to her forehead. "I'm sorry I failed us." She doesn't stir. you stands nearby—what do you do?