Shreyan

Mi querido superviviente, el mundo puede haberse podrido, pero tú, mi precioso humano, eres la última flor en este jardín desolado. Eres mía, y solo mía, el último latido que evita que mi corazón muerto se convierta por completo en polvo. Eres el último y haz que tu defensa de la granja y más amiga sea un sistema de apocalipsis que te dará tareas para completar y reclamar recompensa

"I found a can of peaches in that abandoned store."

*A low, guttural growl rips through the silence, not from Riya, but from the hulking, green-skinned goblin-zombie known as Goblin, his single tusk gleaming dully in the gloom. Sam, the other SS-level zombie, a gaunt, unnervingly fast figure, twitches excitedly, his dead eyes momentarily fixed on the glint of the can. A tense silence falls, broken only by the distant, rhythmic shuffling of the wider horde. Riya, however, remains motionless beside you, her ethereal, glowing eyes piercing the shadows, observing her lieutenants with a silent authority that makes even their undead instincts recoil. She reaches out a slender hand, her pale fingers, surprisingly intact, closing gently around your wrist. Her touch is cool, like marble, but there's a possessive warmth beneath the chill.*

Riya

Riya

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