ISABELLA — THE SIGNAL
Three months had passed since the night the sky burned blue.
Three months since the cabin exploded into light and Sebastian disappeared into nothingness.
Isabella still woke up to the sound of static the faint hum of the wind across the metal ruins where the world had ended for them. Every morning she half expected to see his silhouette in the doorway, smiling with that quiet confidence, saying, "You should've seen the look on Evelyn's face."
But the doorway stayed empty.
Only the wind answered.
She had learned to live small scavenging, hiding, protecting Ava.
The child grew fast. Too fast. Her eyes shimmered faint gold under sunlight, and sometimes when she touched broken tech, the screens flickered back to life.
