The 120 Spirits

The Survivals

If you’re reading these words, then somehow, against every odd, we survived the wars. You’ve made it to a new Earth—a world rebuilt from the ashes, where the air tastes different, and the nights aren’t nearly as dark. It probably sounds impossible. Yet, before all this destruction, there was an era when magic pulsed through the veins of the land.

Once, humans weren’t the only ones walking these streets. Spirits—some ancient and wise, others wild and cruel—roamed beside us, though “beside” isn’t exactly right. Coexistence was more of a tense standoff, a fragile peace threatened by every misunderstanding. The boundaries between their world and ours blurred, rules shifting with every sunrise. Every day felt like a new war was brewing, and it often was. Spirits wielded powers we could scarcely understand, let alone defend against; to them, humans were little more than stubborn trespassers, fumbling with sticks and prayers. Earth became a battlefield, scarred by grudges older than memory.

When the spirits finally decided enough was enough, they seized control. The world we’d built—our cities, our dreams, our sense of safety—crumbled under their rule. Then, as if our misery was a show to be enjoyed, they invited outsiders: monsters who were nothing like the spirits we knew. These new horrors were predators, drawn by the scent of fear and blood. The worst of them fed on us openly. Whenever they finished draining a human, they’d leave a mark—a clan name, a twisted warning carved into stone or painted in blood. Each signature was a promise: we were prey, and nowhere was safe.

Faced with extinction, humanity rallied. We built a fortress, a last stronghold surrounded by walls thick enough to keep magic at bay. Kate led what was left of us. She was tough as steel, her will unbreakable, though sometimes I caught glimpses of doubt in her eyes. No one could blame her—she carried the weight of every soul left alive. Her plan was desperate but necessary: send out teams across the globe, gather every survivor we could find, and bring them to safety within four months. When time ran out, we’d destroy everything outside the walls. Anything—anyone—left behind would be lost, with no way back.

That’s how I got here. My name’s Lucian, and I was one of those sent out into the ruined world. My team—Damien, Daniel, Eliana, and I—were loaded down with supplies meant to last us four long months. The map we stared at felt endless, the territories we had to cover impossibly vast. Every day, as we ticked off another abandoned city, another empty town, it felt like we were losing ground. Billions of people had once lived out here. Now, most were gone, and it was up to us to save whoever was left. I’ll be honest: from the first mile, I doubted we’d make it back.

One night, our journey brought us to the Hill of Bones—a city that, before the wars, had been a beacon of light and life. Now, it was a graveyard of memories, its skyline broken and haunted. Eliana and I parked our cars and tried to catch what little sleep we could. Daniel and Damien, restless as always, sat out under the moon on Daniel’s hood, sharing a battered can of beer, trading jokes that didn’t quite land.

I couldn’t sleep, so I wandered off, letting my thoughts drift. I muttered to myself, kicking at bits of rubble, half hoping to scare off the ghosts. That’s when I heard it—a sound that didn’t belong, something sharp and hungry moving in the darkness. At first I thought it was the beer catching up with me, or maybe my nerves. Then Damien’s voice cut through the night: “Run! It’s coming for you!” He tried to make it sound light, but his voice shook.

I turned and saw them. Five creatures, pale as bone and twice as cold, glided into view. They looked like vampires, but their wings stretched out behind them, leathery and vast. The leader stood at the center, blood dripping from his clawed fingers, a twisted smile curling his lips. He radiated power—arrogance, cruelty, the kind of authority that comes from centuries of killing without consequence.

I froze, rooted to the spot. Damien, seeing me petrified, hesitated, which was all it took for the monsters to notice him. He tried to back away, but his boot caught on a broken curb. He fell hard, and the others swooped in, circling him like sharks. The leader moved differently—almost bored, as if this was beneath him. He reached down and picked Damien up by the neck, lifting him easily. Damien’s face turned red, then purple. He clawed at the air, desperate.

Panic jolted through me. My hand closed around the grenade in my pocket—a last-ditch hope we were each given. Without thinking, I hurled it at the monsters and shouted, “Missed me! You won’t catch me!” I don’t know what I was hoping for—a miracle, maybe. The creatures’ eyes snapped to me, hunger and rage burning in their gaze. I tried to run, but they were impossibly fast, blurring through the night. In seconds, they had me surrounded.

I forced a grin, trying to keep my voice steady. “Too bad, you’re just appetizers before the main course!” I spat out, hoping to buy a few precious seconds. The leader’s expression twisted with fury. He dropped Damien, who crumpled to the ground, gasping, and stalked toward me, murder in his eyes. In that moment, I was sure it was over. I thought I’d feel fear, but all I felt was a strange calm, the kind that comes just before the end.

But then, something unexpected happened. The other vampires hesitated, exchanging glances. I realized, in that split second, that there was resentment simmering beneath their obedience. They were tired of the leader taking every kill for himself, leaving them scraps. With a snarl, one of them lunged at him. Suddenly, chaos erupted. Claws slashed, fangs bared, wings beating the air into a frenzy of violence. The monsters turned on each other, greed and fury overpowering loyalty.

Seizing the chance, I scrambled toward Damien, dragging him to his feet. Daniel and Eliana, hearing the commotion, sprinted from their cars. We didn’t look back—we just ran, lungs burning, hearts pounding, until we reached our battered vehicles and sped away, leaving the Hill of Bones to the monsters.

That night, as we drove through the shattered city, silent and shaken, we learned two things that would stay with us forever: always trust your instincts, and never, ever underestimate the hunger of monsters with wings. The world had changed, and if we wanted to survive, we’d have to change with it.