The world stopped breathing years ago. A strange light swept across the sky one morning and left silence behind — the kind that follows when millions of people freeze mid-step, mid-word, mid-laugh. Stone where flesh used to be. You remember the vial. The dying stranger's shaking hands. The bitter taste you swallowed without thinking. Now your name is a rumor, then a legend, then a destination. Twice exposed. Never turned. Outside your door, the gathered faces carry the same hollow look — equal parts hope and hunger. Some want to be saved. Some want to use you. One small girl in the crowd hasn't taken her eyes off you since she arrived. You hold the only answer anyone has left. The question is whether surviving the light was the easy part.