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That was the ringtone for my alarm. I hurriedly grabbed my phone with shaky hands as I glanced at the date and I audibly gasped in shock. The date was staring right at me, unblinking and I had to rub my eyes to be sure I wasn't hallucinating. It was indeed June 19th, 2665. The apocalypse happened July 19th. One month from today. I refused to believe that this was real. There was no way that I woke up one month before the city of Sloradath was reduced to ruins. But I knew everything that happened was too real to be a dream.

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That was also why our security was the best in the whole city. I only found out in my last life that, after the world was hit by the deadly heatwave, a lot of desperate people showed up. In the apocalypse, humanity meant little. Everyone answered only to themselves. But our community was the only one that never got attacked by any looters, all thanks to the top-notch security forces here. It stayed safe until the scientists finally managed to build weather bombs strong enough to fight off the deadly heat, and the heatwave finally ended. Everyone in our community survived.

I found a wounded giant wolf. After the world ended, I treated him as my strongest fighter and a living source of warmth, curling against him to sleep every night. Later, once he healed, he turned into a man and warned me with a savage look, "I'm the Alpha of a werewolf pack. I have responsibilities to my people. Don't think you can make me stay." And with that, he left. I pulled my ragged blanket tighter, confused. What was he talking about? I had been keeping him as a dog the whole time. What did his responsibilities have to do with me? Later, I rescued a foolish husky from a pile of zombies. When I led him back to my crumbling shelter, I found the heir to the werewolf pack crouched at my

Handwriting from twelve years ago — the strokes heavier than they were now, the flourishes drawn wide and loose, like someone who wasn't afraid of wasting paper. I turned to page twelve. A layout diagram of the bunker. Seven bunks, one incubation unit, the storeroom at the end of the hallway, the concrete-sealed door nearly two feet thick. In the bottom right corner of the diagram, a note in my own handwriting: "The apocalypse has to feel real. Push the heat up, make the water filthy — let the audience practically smell it. Rotate the insiders every season, keep one genuinely unwitting participant — protects the ratings." After "genuinely unwitting," there was a note in parentheses. Just one

“God… She tried so many times.” The memories clearly still hurt him. Aaron could see them playing across his face—Natasha waiting, Natasha speaking, Natasha reaching out, and Josh missing every single sign. “I kept thinking there would be more time.” The regret in his voice felt painfully real. “There is always tomorrow.” Another bitter laugh escaped him. “Except there wasn’t.” Aaron understood that feeling better than most. The apocalypse had taught everyone the same brutal lesson: tomorrow was never guaranteed. Josh sat quietly for several moments. Then he finally spoke the words he had invited Aaron here to hear. “I still love her.”

He’s looking for me. Rhea stood beside him, her shoulder brushing against his arm. The proximity was intoxicating, a desperate comfort against the looming threat of execution. In the apocalypse, romance wasn't about grand gestures or soft words; it was found in the shared silence of two people refusing to let the dark take them. She reached down, her fingers intertwining with his. Dominic didn't pull away. Instead, his grip tightened, anchoring her to his side. If the tracker gets within two blocks, you said this bakery becomes a beacon," Rhea whispered, looking up at his profile. "How do we hide your signature long enough for Regnar’s men to set the trap?

Inside, most of the books stayed dry. Cyrus had never been much of a reader in the old world. In the age of smartphones, patience came cheap. Reading demanded effort and time, time better spent scrolling through short skirted influencers. Now the internet was basically dead. He rarely even touched his phone anymore. Thus, he figured he might as well borrow a book or two to pass the time. Maybe it would help keep whatever remained of his sanity warm in this frozen apocalypse. He stayed in the library for half a day. In the end, he picked up a coming-of-age novel and slipped the thick volume into his coat pocket.

He hadn't expected to hear her call for him and definitely not this soon. Without hesitation, Dante stepped away from the mountain's edge. The air around him shimmered with heat as his form dissolved into embers, vanishing completely. The alleyway in Valoria materialized around him in an instant. His eyes took in the whole scene at once; Madeleine, Lucas, and Sera backed against a brick wall, trapped in the narrow passage. Two werewolves blocked their escape to the street. The scarred werewolf was already mid-air, his claws extended toward Madeleine's throat.

She had so many questions she was burning to ask Caleb. She felt the entire coven gather around, and felt several of them laying their hands on her head. “We hereby lay thee down to rest,” echoed the chorus of vampires. “Caitlin and Caleb, to resurrect another day. In God’s ultimate grace.” Ruth came in and lay beside her, whining. As the words were repeated a second time, then a third time, Caitlin felt her world grow lighter. At the last second, before it all disappeared, she turned to Caleb, and saw him turn to her. She looked deeply into his eyes, and knew, just knew, that next time, they would be together forever.