By the God of the old world


Into the dawn, James stood, gazing calmly as the faint wind ran its withered fingers through his long, black hair. Holding onto nothing but memories, his eyes seemed to fight against the unknown as the others around him stood in confusion and melancholy, trying to make sense of the chaos that ensued only a few hours ago. Now it would be up to him, to keep them safe; to lead them to a better place, away from the rabid infected, and away from the ruins of everything they knew. As he looked down away from the void, the cross hanging from his neck reflected the light of the sun; would the faith that once bound the world, now hold him together? Would those who looked to him for leadership be held by that same faith? Kneeling down slowly, he closed his eyes in a silent prayer.

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