The first days after Lexi's fall from the cliff blurred into something unreal, dreamlike. Time didn't move here as it did outside—if it even moved at all.
She had awakened to endless daylight, where the clouds above were soft and beautiful, unchanging, as if frozen in a perfect balance between day and eternity.
She quickly learned there was no time limit in this strange realm. Hours, days could stretch or vanish, and when she finally slipped out into the real world, she realized only a day had passed.
This meant she could remain here as long as she pleased—resting, planning, building—while the apocalypse outside trudged on unaware.
The contrast always struck her. Out there, it was filth, rot, death. Here, it was color, brightness, warmth. Her skin had changed first.
Every time she dipped her hands or washed her face with the water from the glowing pond in the center of her space, her body shifted little by little. The grime of the camp, the roughness of survival, the scars—gone. What replaced them was startling.
Her skin grew softer, supple, luminous, almost glowing against the backdrop of her new paradise. When she touched her cheek in the reflection of the pond, her fingers trembled.
A heavy contrast. Too beautiful for the end of the world.
It amused her. She laughed when she caught herself preening before the water's reflection, tilting her head this way and that, admiring the curve of her jaw, the brightness of her eyes, the smoothness of her skin. "Who knew the apocalypse would turn me into this?" she murmured once, a smirk curling her lips.
Lexi spent her days exploring the forest inside the space. At first, she thought it was merely an illusion, but the plants were real, the soil soft beneath her fingers, the herbs fragrant when crushed.
She began experimenting. She gathered broken seeds, rotten herbs, and roots from the outside world during her brief excursions and planted them here.
They flourished impossibly fast. A sprig of mint became a bush in a day. A bitter root stretched into a tree within a week. She was building her own little garden of survival, a treasure trove of resources no one else could touch.
When she was bored, she hunted zombies outside—not out of necessity, but as a game. She would bait them, lure them close, then dispatch them with cold precision. She no longer felt fear when their jaws snapped near her. They were just practice dummies, toys for her amusement.
The cottage itself amazed her every time she stepped inside. It wasn't just shelter—it was a home.
The kitchen gleamed with metal pots, sharp knives, cupboards filled with foodstuffs, grains, fresh fruits and vegetables. Even meat—fresh, red, neatly wrapped. She didn't know how the space replenished itself, but she didn't question it either. It was hers.
She cooked for herself—roasts, soups, even bread—and ate until she was satisfied, her belly warm and full. Afterward, she would collapse onto the wide, soft bed in the bedroom, rubbing her stomach with lazy contentment.
Those were the moments when her mind drifted.
And often, it drifted to Nathan.
Lying in her bed one night, her lips curved in a faint smile as the memory of his mouth against hers returned. His fury, his control, the way he had kissed her like he meant to devour her soul.
Her fingers brushed her lips unconsciously. "He's a really good kisser," she admitted to the empty room, laughter softening her tone.
For a fleeting second, she almost missed him.
Nathan had been an interesting pawn, one who had the bad habit of thinking himself her master. He had entertained her, challenged her, stirred her blood when everything else in that wretched camp had been boring. But pawns were pawns. Pieces in her game. Old ones discarded, new ones added. That was the rule.
She closed her eyes, her smirk growing. "Still… you were fun, Nathan."
Sleep came easily, and in her dreams, she always walked through fire and laughter.
Days bled into one another until Lexi's restlessness grew. She had tested the boundaries of the space in small ways, but now she craved something bolder, something reckless. She wanted to push the limits of her power.
That was when the thought struck her.
If she could store food, herbs, weapons, and herself… what about something else? Something alive?
Her pulse quickened at the idea. It was dangerous, stupid even—but it thrilled her. If she could bring in a living being, maybe she could test what the pond truly was, what it could do to more than just her skin.
That afternoon, Lexi slipped back into the outside world, the forest thick with shadows and groans. Her eyes scanned, her grip steady on her blade, until she spotted him.
A male zombie.
He was different than the others—taller, broader. His frame spoke of what he had been before: a soldier. His uniform was tattered, bloodied, but the faint outline of badges still clung to his chest. His face was ruined, skin gray and sloughing, but his build made him stand out.
Her heart beat faster. Perfect.
The zombie staggered toward her, jaws open, the low guttural growl rattling from his throat. His arms reached, claws ready to tear her apart.
Lexi didn't move.
She stood her ground, every muscle taut, every nerve screaming. If this doesn't work, I'm dead.
Closer.
Closer.
His teeth snapped inches from her face.
And then she reached out. Her hand touched the cold, rotting skin of his chest. She closed her eyes, focused on the thought, 'enter.'
The forest vanished.
They were inside.
Lexi stumbled back, breath catching, eyes wide. The zombie was there in the grass, unmoving. His body twitched once, then went perfectly still.
Not dead. Not moving either.
Lexi circled him, her curiosity piqued, her pulse pounding. "Well… what do we have here?"
She thought he would spring back to life, attack again. But he didn't. He was stiff, frozen like a statue.
Her brows furrowed. "Why?"
The pond.
Her gaze flickered to the glowing pool at the center of the space. An idea formed. Dangerous, reckless, thrilling.
She filled a cup with its shimmering water and carefully tilted it against his cracked lips.
For a moment, nothing.
Then—
His chest heaved violently. His wounds began to close, gray flesh knitting back together with impossible speed. His skin smoothed, color returning faintly. His posture straightened. His eyes—once clouded and lifeless—gleamed sharp and aware.
And then he turned to her.
Lexi instinctively stepped back, bracing for an attack.
Instead, the soldier fell to his knees. His head bowed low, his voice rasping through the air.
"Mistress."
Lexi's lips parted, surprise flickering across her features. "Mistress?"
"Yes," he said, his tone flat yet unwavering. "I live to serve you."
She stared, her mind racing. No memories, no past. Only loyalty.
Her smirk returned slowly, curling wickedly at the edges.
"Oh," she whispered, circling him again, her eyes gleaming with dark delight. "This is interesting."
Days passed, and the soldier became her shadow.
She fed him more water, and with each drink, he grew stronger. His movements became fluid, his stance disciplined. He cooked meals for her in the cottage kitchen, his large hands deft with knives. He cleaned, repaired, carried her supplies.
When she slept, he stood guard by the door. When she explored, he followed a step behind, silent as a shadow.
He never spoke unless she asked. And when she did, his voice always began and ended with the same word—Mistress.
Lexi thrived on it.
She had discovered her greatest weapon—not just survival, but the power to build an army. An army that would never betray, never falter, never desire anything but her command.
A queen's army.
And this soldier, this first knight, was only the beginning.
Every time she watched him kneel before her, she felt it—thrill. Satisfaction. The taste of destiny.
Her smirk widened as she stroked the soft skin of her arm, marveling at her own beauty, her growing power.
"Let the world rot," she whispered into the bright, endless sky. "I will rise. And when I do…"
Her eyes gleamed, dark and dangerous.
"They will kneel."
The soldier bowed lower at her feet.
And Lexi laughed—rich, low, dangerous—her voice echoing across the paradise that was hers alone.