Prologue
617,827,053 breaths.
That was the original measurement of Remington’s life.
At the time of his birth, the Fates of the Skein had determined exactly how much time he would be allotted and what he would do with it. His would be a life of honorable achievement. Of sadness, true, but of far more joy. Of children and warm hearths, and finally, after a life well spent, he would be gifted with a dignified death.
It was true that predicting the weave of Fate’s strings was harder on Earth due to the Chaos in every Earthling. Still, the predictions of Fate could be relied upon. For even in a system of the greatest Order, there is the possibility of Chaos, and even in a world of pure Chaos, Order can be found.
Put another way, Fate’s plans went FUBAR when a bolt of pure Higher Energy struck the world. The Wyrd Skein was torn asunder, and the three immortal sisters found their own fates to be at risk. In the days following the Forsaking when the sky turned a roiling grey, some lived that should have died, and many, many more died that should have lived.
Threads were cut short, and countless new threads were woven into the story of Earth. No being, no matter how powerful, could now predict the future of the planet. The destinies of billions were set free to float on the winds of Change and Chance. One such soul was now running for his life.
***
Screams filled the night and the sour tang of vomit filled the air. Remy’s heart beat harder than ever before. Though neither he nor any other being could know, he was gasping the final breaths of his tragically shortened life.
107 breaths remaining.
Sweat ran down Remy’s face and plastered his shirt to his back. He didn’t even notice. His heart also thudded hard enough to cause physical pain. Even that didn’t capture his attention. All he was thinking about were the living and the dead.
Two hundred and fifty-nine of them had fled the city. Every one of those hundreds of souls had agreed to run to the dubious safety of this old army bunker. Only sixty-eight remained. Fifty-five had made it into the fortified structure that would hopefully be their new home and salvation. Twelve more prayed to any deity that would listen while they tried to make it to the fortified door. One stood at the threshold.
Remy stood in the doorway, one hand braced against its frame, and bellowed, “Run! Run! They’re coming after you!”
105 breaths remaining.
The only answer was the agonized scream of a woman. Sara was an overweight suburban mom that had managed to survive when so many others had died. You wouldn’t have thought she would make it through the last days of hell on Earth, but she had discovered a strong will to live. Where others had succumbed, she had fought tooth and nail to survive. She had gained the respect of everyone in the group. Within eyesight of safety, however, her story came to an end.
A mutated cat, black with red claws, jumped out of the darkness. It was no mere housecat. It had the size and physique of a mountain lion and easily bore her screaming figure to the ground. The two rolled in a violent struggle, but there was no doubt as to the outcome. Within the first few seconds, Sara’s red blood splattered in broad arcs across the grass. In the twilight it looked black. The shadow cat gouged, bit, and clawed while she screamed and begged for mercy.
Remy watched with a tight jaw, but did not leave the safety of the doorway. When a group of people survived days of death and hopelessness, they could form bonds strong enough to last a lifetime. Her screams for help echoed through the night, but not one of the other eleven slowed down or even looked back.
No one was coming to help her.
In this new world, no paltry bond of friendship would protect you when monsters prowled. Misplaced mercy would kill you as quickly as a fang or claw.
They weren’t men and women of the Western Confederation any more. Nations, gender, and race no longer mattered. Idealism was for fools. Most idealists had died out in the first few days of monster attacks. Those that survived lived only to feel those soft feelings crushed by the weight of reality. They were all Forsaken now. All that mattered was survival.
Instead of stopping or helping, they just used her agonized screams as motivation to run faster. Their legs pumped like pistons. They all heard the yowling screeches of more monsters closing in. When given a choice between heeding the threatening roars of monsters or the begging of a woman who was already almost dead, the answer was obvious. The most kindhearted of the eleven just wished her a quick death. The more pragmatic of them hoped that she suffered as long as possible. Her screams might distract some of the monsters and provide the rest of them with precious time.
Remy watched as the woman went down, as more blood sprayed across the ground, as Sara continued to fight, frantically pushing at the partially insubstantial body of the shadow cat. Her efforts accomplished nothing. The only reason she was still alive was because the monster hadn’t gone for the kill yet. Mutated or not, the beast still had the personality of a cat. It was playing with its food.
The dark skin on Remy’s face stretched as his jaw clenched even tighter. Still, he didn’t leave the doorway. He knew the same thing the remaining eleven runners did. She was already dead. Her body just hadn’t caught up to that fact yet. Instead, he looked at the men and women he could still save. Remy’s eyes locked onto the man lagging the farthest behind. Jay was a father, a good man. He was the kind of guy you would be lucky to have at your back. The only reason he was lagging behind was that he held his little boy in his arms. Even at fifty paces, Remy could see the whites of the man’s fear-swollen eyes.
100 breaths remaining.
Remy shouted for him to run faster, but it was obvious Jay was at the end of his stamina. He was falling farther behind the others with every second. Exhaustion was putting lie to the belief that parents could do anything to save their children. The monsters crooned in excitement at seeing weaker members of the herd struggle and fall behind. The sound deepened Jay's fear into terror. Froth appeared at the corner of his lips, and his son sobbed into his chest.
I can’t look back! I can’t let go! Those two thoughts were on repeat in Jay’s mind as he gripped his small son to his chest. Don’t look back. Don’t let go. Don’t look back. Don’t let go!
With fell, inevitable cruelty, two shadow cats emerged from the darkness and leaped. Their combined weight easily overwhelmed Jay and drove his body to the ground. One swipe of red talons opened up three jagged wounds in his back. His back arched and he shrieked in agony.
Most people would be surprised that such a large man would make such a high-pitched sound. Remy was not. He’d seen hardened soldiers cry for their mothers as they bled out far from home. To him, there was neither surprise nor shame. Everyone went out in their own way. In the end, it just didn’t matter. Dead was dead.
In Jay’s pain-addled state, he lost his grip on his son. The second cat sank its teeth deep into the boy’s shoulder. The three-year-old cried out in pain and fear. He screamed for his father, the invincible figure that had always kept him safe. He screamed it over and over while the shadow beast mauled him. The only blessing was that the cries did not last long. He died still believing he would be saved. Jay howled, “No!” as the last member of his family was literally ripped from his arms.
The last sight Jay had was another shadow cat clamping its jaws over his son’s face before jerking its head to the side. The small body twitched spasmodically after the neck snapped. A foul scent revealed the child had soiled his pants.