Apocalypse: The echoes of Madness

The silent and broken. Zane leaned against the railing, his gaze lost in the haze of the skyline. Dr. Lucas stood beside him, his expression grim.

"You heard everything, Zane," Dr. Lucas said quietly. "Do you think she'll help us?"

Zane didn't answer right away, his mind clouded. "I wonder," he muttered.

"She's the fifth to come back from death," Dr. Lucas continued. "The others... they were never the same. But Rose... there's something different about her."

Zane's jaw tightened. "I know. She's like us, but not like us. She's still... different. There's power in her—more than the rest of us had but there somthing else about her that i can't say by word but feel"

Dr. Lucas turned to him, his voice lowering. "Resurrection changes us. It takes something, Zane. You know that better than anyone."

Zane's eyes darkened. "She's the key. If she can help, we have to try."

Dr. Lucas sighed, the weight of the words heavy between them. "We don't know what we're playing with, Zane. We could lose her."

The wind howled around them as the city lay still beneath the rising storm.

---

A small child, no more than six, was running through the garden, her laughter like a melody carried by the wind. Her maids, chasing after her, tried to calm her down.

"My lady, please don't run so fast! You'll hurt yourself and get scolded by Her Grace," one of the maids gently warned.

"No way! My mother loves me the most. She would never scold me," the little girl replied with a confident smile.

Just as she said this, a cold voice echoed through the air.

"What did you say?"

The child froze, her heart racing. "AAAAAAAH! When did you come, Mother? You scared me!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and joy.

"Princess, be a good girl and come to me," the mother said, her voice soft but firm, as she began chasing after her.

The maids smiled, watching the interaction. "Her Grace truly loves her children," they whispered, their laughter like a warm breeze.

Her mother caught her and held her close, wrapping her arms around the child. "Why do you always stop me when I run? I see the knights running every day. I want to be strong like Father!" the little girl protested, her eyes wide with excitement.

The mother smiled tenderly, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter's face. "Rose," she said softly, "I want you to be strong too. But you're still a child."

Rose's voice was filled with determination as she looked up at her mother. "I want to be like Father. He's the best with a sword."

---

In the dream, the sun bathed the garden in a golden glow, casting long, peaceful shadows on the soft grass. The trees, ancient and wise, whispered secrets to the wind. It was a world that felt both timeless and magical, where the past and future danced together in harmony. Every movement in the dream was filled with grace, as if every step, every breath, was part of a song that had been passed down through generations.

Sword fighting was not just a skill here; it was an art—a beautiful, sacred dance. The sword was more than a weapon; it was a symbol of the spirit, of one's soul, of the legacy carried by each warrior. The blade glided through the air, leaving behind a trail of shimmering light. Each strike was a note in a symphony of precision, power, and beauty.

In the dream, her father wasn't just a warrior. He was the embodiment of the sword's spirit, dancing with fate, guided by honor, strength, and an unbreakable will. Rose could feel his presence beside her, like the very air was infused with the wisdom of countless battles.

---

Her mother's voice broke through the dream's enchantment, her tone gentle but full of love: "In time, my dear, you will understand. The sword is not just to be wielded. It is to be cherished, for it carries the weight of history, of every warrior who has ever fought with it."

Rose's heart swelled with determination, but her mother's embrace kept her grounded. "Right now, you are still my little girl. I want you to stay safe. Your time will come, when you're ready."

"I'm already six years old!" Rose protested, her voice filled with the excitement of a child eager to grow up.

Her mother laughed softly, the sound like a sweet lullaby. And the world seemed to pause, holding its breath, as if it too recognized the beauty of this fleeting moment.

---

And beside her, there was someone else—a child with the same spark in her eyes, the same fierce determination. It was Rose's sister, her twin in spirit and in appearance, running beside her, laughing, matching her every step. The sister's presence made the dream even brighter, as if they were two halves of the same whole, destined to walk the same path.

"What do you want to become, sister?" Rose asked, her heart filled with both longing and joy.

Her sister smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I want to see your face as you grow stronger,stay by your side."

But then, as if the world itself had heard the unspoken wish, the dream began to shift. The laughter faded, and the warmth of the garden melted away, leaving behind only a gentle ache in Rose's chest. Her sister's figure blurred like a distant memory, and Rose reached out, but the vision slipped through her fingers, just as all beautiful things must.

"Don't go…" Rose whispered softly, but her sister was already gone, leaving only the faintest echo of her laughter.

---

The dream shifted, and the world dissolved into mist. Rose woke with tears in her eyes, her heart aching with a pain she couldn't fully understand. Why did it hurt so much? It had been such a beautiful dream, filled with love, joy, and the promise of the future.

Who were they? Why did the vision of her sister feel so real, so alive? And why did it feel like something had been lost—something precious she could never hold again?

Rose's eyes fluttered open, her heart still racing from the dream. The warmth of the garden, the sounds of laughter, and the fleeting presence of her sister lingered in her mind. Yet, as she wiped away the tears from her cheeks, a deep sense of sorrow filled her chest. The joy of the dream had been so real, but now it felt as if something precious had slipped away, leaving only the emptiness behind.

Her room was dim, despite the midday light filtering softly through the door. The air felt thick, unusually still for a bright noon. She felt a sudden chill brush against her skin, as if the warmth of the dream had left a cold shadow in its wake.

The quiet around her seemed heavier than usual, almost suffocating. She tried to shake it off, but it clung to her like an unwelcome visitor.

Suddenly, a soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Rose? It's me, Emily," came the familiar voice from the other side.

Rose blinked, startled by the sound, and quickly wiped her eyes. "Oh, Emily. I didn't hear you."

She opened the door, forcing a smile. Emily stood there, her brow furrowed with concern. "I just wanted to check on you. It's already noon, and you haven't come out yet. Is everything alright?"

Rose nodded, though she felt a tightness in her chest she couldn't explain. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about... some things. It feels strange, like my room is too big now."

Emily raised an eyebrow, looking over her shoulder as if unsure whether she should push further. "It's normal to feel that way, especially after the kind of things we've been through. But, Rose, you should be careful with how much you're thinking about things like that. The mind can play tricks on you."

Rose glanced over her shoulder at the dimness of the room, where shadows clung to the edges, elongating unnaturally. It felt wrong, like something was waiting there.

"Is there something wrong?" Emily pressed, her voice soft but serious. "You can talk to me."

Rose took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I just... felt a little off, that's all."

Emily seemed to consider something for a moment before stepping inside. "I know it's been a lot to process, but you should be aware of something important. It's about the powers we all have."

Rose looked at her curiously, unsure of how this conversation was going to unfold.

"You're not alone in feeling strange. It's the world we live in now—everything has shifted. Mutants started gaining powers after the chaos began. It wasn't always for bad reasons, mind you. At first, it was thought that we gained them to protect humanity... but things turned differently. Some mutants, those called harbingers, used their powers for their own gain, causing destruction."

Rose's heart tightened at the mention of harbingers. She knew enough about them to feel uneasy.

"The Aegis," Emily continued, her voice becoming softer, "they were the ones trying to protect what's left of humanity. But they realized that if their powers were discovered, they'd be controlled. They had to hide who they were and take on code names. Otherwise, anyone could find out their power by knowing their real identity."

Rose nodded, understanding the weight of this secrecy. It was no longer just about personal strength—it was about survival.

"But what about us?" Rose asked, her voice quiet but curious. "How do we control our powers?"

Emily's gaze shifted to Rose's file, resting on the desk nearby, and then back to her with a warning look. "You should never talk about your power openly, Rose. If people find out, it's easier for them to control you. A slip of the tongue, a moment of weakness—it could make you vulnerable. You must keep it hidden, especially now. I'll explain more soon, but right now... we need to be careful."

Rose's mind raced. She hadn't realized how much danger her powers could bring, or how carefully she would have to live now. She glanced down at the file again, noticing her power level was marked as a 4. What did that even mean?

"Let's go out for now. I'll show you what I mean," Emily said, her tone firm as she ushered Rose gently toward the door.

---

(to be continued)

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