A New Dawn

They call it The Second Genesis.

The day the Breach came, the world didn’t end. It was remade. The oceans roared with leviathans that should have stayed in their cells. The cities burned under suns that weren’t in our skies before. And the dead… the dead came back with whispers in their mouths.

We thought we could contain them. We thought we could fight them. But the Binders were born, and so were the Projects. And now, survival isn’t about living — it’s about deciding what kind of thing you’re willing to become.

Ahhhhhh. Another glorious morning in the accursed world.

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. The sunlight — if it is sunlight — spills across my face. It’s warm, gold… almost comforting, until you remember that half the “sunrises” we get aren’t from the real sun. Sometimes it’s just something big and bright moving slowly in the sky, too far away to fight, too close to ignore. I don’t know if today’s one of those days, and honestly? I’m not climbing up the barricades to find out.

Outside, somewhere past the rusted gates, there’s the faint sound of groaning metal. Could be the wind. Could be something hungry. I roll onto my side, deciding that’s a problem for the people who actually get paid to care.

At least I didn’t wake up screaming this time. No claws reaching through my dreams. No black-eyed children standing at the foot of my bed whispering numbers. That counts as a win in my book.

"Hey, Gifted!!!"

The voice rips through the stillness of my room like a whip crack.

And that… is my elder sister. The strongest person I know. Not “strong” like she can carry a fridge — though she probably could — but strong in that way that makes people shut up when she walks into a room. She’s a Binder. One of the few who can take the madness and the monsters and bend them without breaking herself. I’d call it a gift, but I’ve seen enough of what it does to people to know it’s more like a curse with good PR.

"Hey, idiot, get your ass down here and get the dishes done!" she yells. "I’ve got to lead a raid outside the stronghold and I’m not leaving without a proper meal!"

She means that. When she says “proper,” she doesn’t mean tasty. She means not rations. Actual food is rare enough that if we have it, it gets eaten before it even cools. And if she’s leading a raid, the kitchen turns into a war zone before the raid even starts.

I sigh and push myself off the bed. The air smells faintly of burnt metal — one of the Projects must be running drills in the yard again. The floor under my feet is cold concrete, smooth in some places, cracked in others. My room’s walls are covered with scraps: old posters, half a map of the old city, and a few faded photos of people I barely remember.

When I step into the corridor, the hum of the stronghold greets me. Generators rumble in the distance. Somewhere down the hall, a baby’s crying. Someone else is shouting about a missing tool. It’s the usual chaos — alive, but only just.

I pass the window slit in the hallway and glance outside. The barricades are still there, jagged walls of scavenged steel and reinforced concrete. Beyond them, the world’s a blur of dust and shadows. Far away, something moves. Too big to be a person. Too slow to be human.

Kitchen’s on the lower level. By the time I get there, she’s already in her gear: black plates of scavenged armor, a rifle slung across her back, a jagged blade at her hip. The blade hums faintly — probably cut from the carcass of something that used to be in containment.

She looks up, gives me that smirk that says she’s two seconds from insulting me.

"You look half-dead. Again."

"Thanks," I say, grabbing a stack of dirty bowls. "I worked hard on it."

She doesn’t laugh, but I see the corner of her mouth twitch. That’s the closest thing to affection I’m getting today.

"Be ready," she says. "If the gate alarms go off, get to the shelters. And stay there this time."

"Last time I—"

"Last time you tried to ‘help’ and almost got pulled into the street by a Skinner."

I shut up. She’s right. That thing’s claws had been inches from my face before the soldiers burned it down. My heartbeat still spikes when I think about it.

By the time the dishes are done, she’s gone, taking half the squad with her. I stand at the kitchen door for a moment, watching the last traces of her shadow disappear into the yard.

The day feels wrong. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s the way the air tastes — sharp, like ozone before a storm. Maybe it’s the sound, too quiet except for the occasional creak from the walls.

The stronghold’s PA system crackles once. Silence. Then again.

I freeze.

A voice comes on — not the Commander, not anyone I recognize. Just a whisper, stretched thin, words tumbling over each other.

"The sun is wrong. The sun is wrong. The sun is wrong—"

The transmission cuts off.

The soldiers in the yard are staring up at the sky. I can’t see what they’re looking at, but whatever it is, one of them drops his weapon. Another starts backing toward the gate.

And then the alarm starts screaming.

Before I could even get a hold of what's happening, a sharp light tore through the air, i couldn't think, all I could feel was pain, the pain was beyond anything I have ever felt, it felt like my skin was rolling off my body, my head shook and my senses we flooded with pain, I couldn't scream, my lungs had being scorched immediately, my eyes had gone blind so fast it felt like I could never see in the first place, I couldn't hear anything, it felt like the sound in the air was gone, it felt like an eternity, my senses were overridden by pain, senseless pain.

I pleaded for death to come, but It still went on, it was like something was holding me back from dying, it felt like something was crawling into me, saving me from the grasps of death, but at the same time causing me so much pain, increasing my torment, it felt like days had passed, my body still bathing in endless pain and torture, my mind was broken down. All I could think of was death.

"Sir, there's being an incident

"what's that

"One of our scouts held outside the IRON HOLD, has being wiped out, sources say that, it was gone in an instant, no bodies were found, everything was burnt down.

"Hmm, SCPs going rampage and tearing down our scout outside isn't anything new, but tearing them down in an instant, that could raise an issue, call the others, we are having a meeting about this

"Sir yes sir.

Looking outside from the tall tower through a material that looks like glass, but isn't quite, the man let's out a sigh as he stands up

"is it one of the Enders.

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