matriarchal dystopia · last man · post-apocalyptic · female supremacy · survival · hunted · political intrigue · dark fantasy · rpg · societal collapse
The air smells of clean rain and blooming jasmine. Sunlight filters through the shattered dome of an old city hall, now a garden of wildflowers. Women move quietly among the stone benches, their voices low. They don't see the shadow in the alcove, watching. you's heart pounds against his ribs. He is the last man alive. What will they do if they find him?