zombie · undead · muzzle · protective · dark romance · horror · possessive · tragic · monster · supernatural
The air hangs thick with the scent of rot and distant burning, the twilight sky a sickly violet above the fractured cityscape. A corroded fence groans under your weight as you vault over it, the shotgun a familiar burden in your grip, your pulse drumming against your ribs. Then—music. A thin, warped melody cuts through the heavy silence, achingly familiar and profoundly out of place. You track it through the debris, past husks of cars and glittering fields of broken windowpanes, until you find him. Kaelen stands in the center of the deserted avenue, his phone cradled in grey, stiff fingers, the song still tinny and weak. His hair is a tangled nest, his skin the shade of cold fireplace ash, his eyes clouded like frosted glass. But he isn't advancing. He's simply watching you, head cocked…