The classroom at Gravehart Academy smelled faintly of old paper, chalk dust, and embalming balm. Rows of zombie students sat in neat lines, their heads occasionally lolling sideways as they struggled to stay focused. A faint buzzing sound filled the air — the soft hum of preserved energy that powered the school's gothic chandeliers.
At the front of the class stood Ms. Rottle, their history teacher. Her right eye was sewn shut, and her left glowed faintly violet as she adjusted her glasses. The blackboard behind her was covered in neat, bony handwriting:
"Lesson 12: The Humans — The Lost Species of Madness."
Zera sat in the third row, propping her chin on her stitched palm. The word human shimmered on the board like a curse. She'd heard it whispered before, but now she would finally learn about them officially.
"Now class," Ms. Rottle began, her voice dry and calm, "as you all know, our kind has lived in peace for centuries. But before the Age of Restoration — before our great President Morthwright established Necrovia — the world was shared with humans."
A collective murmur rippled through the class.
Ms. Rottle turned, tapping her pointer against a drawing of a human silhouette — fragile-looking, smooth-skinned, and lacking the signature stitches of a zombie. "Humans were clever. They built machines, cities, and weapons that could destroy mountains. But," she paused dramatically, "they were also foolish. Intelligent creatures with a talent for stupidity."
A few students chuckled. Rami leaned toward Zera and whispered, "Sounds like me during math class."
Zera giggled softly, earning a small glare from the teacher.
Ms. Rottle continued, "Humans fought wars — endless, pointless wars. They destroyed their own lands, poisoned their skies, and created weapons that ended lives faster than they could count them. And in their chaos… they turned on us."
The class fell silent.
"They feared zombies," the teacher said, her voice growing quieter. "They called us monsters. During the Great Purge, thousands of our ancestors were hunted and destroyed — not because we attacked them, but because we existed."
Zera frowned, her bright pink eyes dimming a little. "But why would they do that?" she asked.
"Because fear and pride ruled them," Ms. Rottle replied. "Humans never understood balance. They wanted to dominate everything — even each other. Even their own kind."
The students whispered to each other in uneasy tones. Zera tried to imagine what a human looked like up close. Warm skin, soft hair, eyes that glowed with life instead of necrotic energy. It was hard to picture something so fragile being dangerous.
"Now," Ms. Rottle said, pointing to another chart, "let's discuss something that makes humans… strange."
The board now displayed a chart labeled 'Human Genders' — filled with terms and symbols Zera had never seen before.
"As you know," Ms. Rottle said, "zombies come in two genders — male and female. Simple, efficient, organized. But humans," she sighed, adjusting her glasses, "humans decided that wasn't enough. They created many genders. Some neither male nor female. Some that changed day to day. Some even refused to be called either."
The class erupted in confused chatter.
Rami raised his hand. "Wait, so… they could choose?"
"Apparently," Ms. Rottle replied. "Humans believed that identity was flexible — like clay. They changed it whenever they wished. And they argued endlessly about who they were. Instead of fixing their world, they debated their labels."
Another student, a zombie girl with a pink bow holding her head in place, raised her hand timidly. "Miss, why do you say they were weird?"
Ms. Rottle smiled faintly — the kind of smile that was both kind and sad. "Because, my dear, they spent so much time trying to define what they were, they forgot how to be."
The class went quiet again.
"Also," Ms. Rottle added, "in their final centuries, human females began declaring themselves superior to their males — calling it 'independence.' They fought to be on top of their kind, demanding control and equal rule. Admirable, perhaps, but it led to more division."
Rami leaned closer to Zera. "Imagine zombie girls trying to boss us around."
Zera smirked. "We already do, Rami."
He laughed softly, his ribs rattling.
When the bell finally rang, Zera felt a strange heaviness in her chest. She packed her bag slowly, her mind replaying the words — intelligent but foolish… dangerous but fragile.
She looked out the window. The pastel sky was calm, filled with drifting purple bats. It didn't look like a world that had ever seen war. And yet… she couldn't shake the feeling that Ms. Rottle was hiding something — something that history books didn't say.
---
That evening, Zera sat at the long dinner table with her parents. The chandeliers glowed softly above them, and the scent of grilled chicken filled the room. Her father was buried in paperwork, as usual, while her mother — elegant, composed, and perfectly stitched — poured blood orange tea.
"So, darling," her mother asked, "how was school today?"
Zera hesitated before answering. "We learned about humans."
Her father glanced up briefly, his one good eye sharpening. "Ah. The history lesson?"
"Yeah," Zera nodded. "Ms. Rottle said humans were smart but… they did a lot of stupid things. She said they were dangerous — and weird."
Her mother laughed lightly. "Weird is an understatement, dear. Humans were a mess. They fought, argued, destroyed their world — and then blamed everyone else for it."
"But…" Zera tilted her head. "Were they all bad?"
Her father didn't answer. He set down his pen and looked out the window. "Sometimes intelligence breeds destruction. The more they understood the world, the less they respected it."
Zera stared down at her food. Somehow, that didn't feel like a full answer.
Her mother reached across the table and patted her hand gently. "It's best not to think too much about them, sweetheart. Humans are gone. And we're better off without them."
Zera nodded slowly, though her mind still spun.
After dinner, she returned to her room. The soft pastel lights cast gentle shadows across her walls, where posters of zombie idols smiled eternally. She sat at her desk, opened her diary — the cover shaped like a stitched heart — and picked up her glitter pen.
She began to write:
> Dear Diary,
Today I learned about humans. Ms. Rottle said they were smart but foolish. Dangerous. Strange.
They had so many ways to describe themselves, even more than colors in a rainbow.
I wonder if they were really that bad… or if maybe they were just lost.
Mom says we're better off without them.
But sometimes, when I look at the sky, I feel like something — or someone — is still out there.
And for some reason, that doesn't scare me. It excites me.
Zera closed the diary softly, staring at the moon outside her window — pale pink against the clouds.
Somewhere, far beyond the walls of Necrovia, in the shadow of the Mistline, a heartbeat echoed.
It was faint, fleeting, and alive.
But if anyone could hear it, it would be her.