135 Chapter One - Year Three, Post Apocalypse

It rained over night, the scent of the ground filtered into the air smelling particularly fresh and the grass walkways which created straight lines between rectangular stretches of other plants looked lush and emerald in the morning light. In contrast, the rich earth that could be seen between the seedlings or small plants in the beds bordered by the grass looked darker still. Nimble fingers reached between two little lettuces of different varieties to pluck out a plant that shouldn't be there. It was identified as a weed, rather than a volunteer and tossed into a bucket.

A young girl, who was known as Lucy, looked up proudly as her big brother Nathan nodded in agreement over her choice. The other youths smiled as they also went about picking and digging out unwanted plants, whether to be replanted elsewhere, such as the thickly sown baby leeks, which were to be replanted with more space for them to grow into the winter or pepper plants that were beginning to look a little sad due to the cooling temperatures of autumn.

There was a sudden whistling noise that echoed through the gardens and the children and few adults about them dropped their tools and ducked low before hurrying towards the open kitchen door tens of metres away. A shadow and stench of rotten flesh flashed passed them, but they did not scream or cry out in fear, despite being unnerved. A thick fog blocked the light from the sun momentarily, followed by the low growl of a canine, then there was a screech above them and a sizeable creature with a sharp beak and leathery wings dropped from the sky, it's neck nearly severed from its long body.

Despite this flash of danger passing, they did not stop running, the older ones helping the youngest ones as they hurried down ornamental steps for the last stretch before safety. Suddenly the woman in front paused, flinging out her arms to stop the others from continuing. Streaks of light flashed before their eyes as the elongated metal swept past their vision in a series of swift patterns and a mess of flying undead fell to the ground in quick succession. The swords owner quickly glanced in Nathan's direction, his lips curved slightly before he moved to intercept another small flock of zombies. Nathan's eyes naturally followed his lover's form until a bark broke into his attentions. The black hound had checked over the rotting bodies, deemed them unthreatening before allowing the humans to continue to safety.

The group quickly entered the kitchen, one after the other, that happened to be under the guard of another woman, whose skin was currently shimmering like it was made of numerous crystals in the sunlight. She held a rolling pin in her hands, not much of a weapon, but she'd been making flatbreads when the warning came.

The other woman greeted her, before stepping aside to ensure that all of the young gardeners made it in the the house safely. "What's for lunch? Do you want me to harvest anything?"

Autumn shook her head, before kneeling to hug her Lucy, who had grabbed her ample hips with a giggle. "Squash with curry sauce, wilted spinach and chard...". They called it 'curry', but really it was a concoction of her own design that had the warming effect of that once familiar sauce and just a bit of a bite. No one disliked it though. Several high pitched screeches echoed overhead, followed by another, angry cry. Autumn sighed; "And I had just managed to settle Devon down for his nap." Her skin lost its gleam as her spiritual energy waned. "At this rate he'll wake up the other babies..."

Attacks from above were not too frequent, but not uncommon either. This was the fourth or fifth since the previous winter. The tall, thick walls that kept out most other unwanted invaders were of no barrier to the undead and mutant creatures that had flight. In the last attack, there had been a casualty, a newcomer that they had taken in, in the Spring. They had not known him long and then he was gone. It had been a painful experience, reminding them of their seemingly unending predicament.

However this time, the bombardment claimed no victims, so those who had been guarding the wall, returned to the wall, those who had been tending the gardens, returned to the gardens. Everyone else also had responsibilities to continue. It was almost as if nothing untoward had happened at all. Just another 'ordinary' interruption in their everyday lives.

*****

It had been more than forty months since the world had changed, since the end of the modern era and the beginning of the apocalyptic one. Where once billions of people flourished or at least lived, billions of walking corpses took their place, leaving only a small percentage of survivors. Many of the survivors panicked, hide, fled from their homes. Then there had been looting, organised, unorganised, more of the living had died in the chaos through both the hands of their own and in the mouths of the undead.

People banded together for survival, developing in small communities and usually surrounded by high, metal and stone walls, scavenging for food until they could grow it, scraping together necessities until they could craft these themselves. While enduring the uphill struggle, the undead continued to beat at their defences seeking their way in. There were also attacks from beasts; animals that had mutated into something different, usually vicious and out for human blood. Many bases fell and any survivors fled in despair, struggling to live as they sought a new haven, a new place where they might be safe for a while longer.

It wasn't always the case, but generally, the strongest were those who would survive. The sick or injured, the old or very young, these were often not among them, however, a few with strange powers and abilities that once were only ever mentioned in fiction rose among them. With crude experiments and learning, these people somewhat took control of their powers, developing them to an extent. Amongst them were people who had elemental abilities; control over fire, earth, water, air... while others seemed to become physically stronger, faster, hardier... Some seemed like minor gods with able to summon the elements with a click of their fingers, while others could only extend a hand to what was already there. Some abilities were labelled as highly useful or indispensable, becoming more coveted than others and the weakest might as well have been talentless for they were deemed useless and became overlooked. Some seemed to have figured ways to gain more power, others did not know how. Some had died or zombified while trying to figure it out.

And in a small base in the East of an island continent that once was considered influential and great, there was a group of less than forty individuals, in amongst them were ability users, ones that the ignorant would definitely consider to be as Deities.

They would disdain to use such an ostentatious label.

They considered themselves as Cultivators.