The sun was setting, casting eerie shadows across the desolate landscape. Damien and Mira trudged through the cracked earth of the wastelands, remnants of civilization scattered around them like forgotten memories. The land stretched endlessly, an unforgiving testament to the apocalypse that had reshaped it. Somewhere within the barren expanse lay a rumored safe haven for the few survivors, a place where the Zombie King's reach had not yet penetrated.
As they moved, Mira pulled out a worn map, marked with faded, hastily drawn symbols. “We’re close to the survivor camp,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at Damien. “If the rumors are true, we may find allies here—or at least shelter for the night.”