the Queen of Death

England, 3025. Neon clouds streaked the sky like wild graffiti, and the city shimmered—silver towers, glass everywhere, drones buzzing overhead like metallic hornets. Honestly, people here thought they’d beaten everything: disease, hunger, even death itself. Most of it, at least. Mia Veyra slipped through the crowded campus plaza, black robes brushing her ankles. Around her, students tossed confetti, shouting and laughing, finally free from exam season. Everybody looked exhausted, happy, ready to dump their textbooks and never look back. Not Mia. She clutched her results, the screen glowing in her hand, her eyes cool and steady. Top marks, every subject. The kind of perfect that made teachers remember your name. The crowd’s joy ricocheted off her, distant and muffled. It felt like the world was holding its breath. Loona, her best friend, bumped her shoulder. “Mia! Come on, celebrate! You’re the star—don’t just stand there like you’re about to do brain surgery on the moon!” Mia gave a small, crooked smile. “I’ll celebrate later. Right now, I need to think.” James, practical as always, rolled his eyes. “Think? Exams are over. For once, just stop. No experiments, no projects. Five minutes of not being a genius, I dare you.” But Mia couldn’t let go. Something felt off beneath the city, a low hum buzzing under her feet, the faint scent of earth and iron curling in the air—nobody else seemed to notice. She’d always linked that feeling to death. Something was moving below. That night, fireworks lit up the sky, but sleep wouldn’t come. Mia wandered to the edge of campus, to the graveyard hidden under layers of progress. Most people stayed away. She couldn’t help herself. The moon made the old stones glow, and the air felt thick, almost alive. As she stepped closer to the oldest tombs, she saw the dirt shift—like something underneath was breathing. A sharp crack split the silence. Mia’s heart hammered. One grave broke open. A hand—pale, rotten, clawing upward. Anyone else would’ve screamed. She watched, fascinated, dropping to her knees and flipping on her scanner. The hand became an arm, and then a face. Not just a corpse; not like anything she’d ever studied. Its eyes flickered, sharp with a terrible awareness. Its mouth opened wide, soundless. Then it dragged itself toward the city. Mia’s pulse raced, but not from fear. She was hooked. She’d spent years obsessed with what happens after death—decay, endings, the whole science of it. Now, her theories shuffled out of the grave, alive—or, well, undead. She backed away, scanning fast. “This is ancient,” she muttered. “Not just old—older than anything in the records.” Loona’s voice blared through her comm-link. “Mia! Are you out of your mind? Get out of there! Right now!” Mia didn’t budge. More hands punched through the earth. More faces. The cemetery was waking up. Something deeper, older than the city, stirred far below. From the oldest tomb, a whisper echoed—a voice full of ancient rage and sorrow: “Who calls me from the dark?” Mia shivered—not from terror, but from excitement. She knew, right then, everything was about to change. The Queen of Death had awakened.