The Fallen Do Not Rest

The wind blew softly, but it was heavy with the pungent smell of ashes and decay. The cities, now shadows of what they once were, remained silent, their ruined buildings rising like empty skeletons toward a dim sky. In the streets, the echo of shuffling footsteps was the only sound breaking the stillness. For the few who had survived, the day had begun once again. But in this world, days were indistinguishable from nights, and rest was a luxury only the dead could afford.