My new office overlooked the entirety of the monochrome town, at the top of an executive building on the far side. The roof was directly above me, so it was as high as it could really go. It also had an elevator, which was great, as I was using crutches to move around, courtesy of Yukiko's thoughtfulness.

The digs themselves were astounding. I’ve been in many high-class hotels, and even a penthouse or two, but this blew them out of the water.

I’d describe the immaculate decor, the beautiful upholstery, and the phenomenal furniture...but I can't be bothered, frankly. There were only two things of import. One, the room screamed 'power', which is all I really ask for in an office, and two...the desk was really, really nice. I think it's Italian maple.

On the desk was a PC that seemed to be powered on, with a website I don't recognize on the monitor, and... christ, a gold-plated desert eagle.

I picked up the surprisingly heavy hand cannon, ejecting the clip. It was chambered in .45, though the bullets seemed to have some sort of runes inscribed on the brass. I could even feel a bit of energy coming from them, and the gun frame itself.

Ok. Gaudy as fuck, but it’s clearly magical, so I’ll kindly keep it. I just won't show any of my gun-loving pals, for they will surely have a good laugh.

I sat down, appreciating the leather, and took a look at the computer. Onscreen was a single command line that read 'press enter to enter.

So, obviously, I pressed enter.

I blinked, and I was elsewhere.

All around me was darkness, save for a single round table, surrounded by 12 wooden chairs. A gently swaying lamp swung overhead, illuminating only portions of the table at a time. It droned ever so slightly, but not enough to stop my ears from buzzing from the silence.

It was uncomfortable. The floor didn't exist. I felt like I was both high up and underground, alone and surrounded by thousands of eyes, just beyond the veil of shifting shadows. And yet, I felt no danger. I could still feel myself, back in my comfy office chair.

This was a projection, somehow. Like a VR, but with fewer furries and pedophiles.

The light shifted to the far side of the table, and revealed a silhouette of a man made of shadow, a single question mark in the position of his face. His chair was different from the rest, cold steel in the place of wood.

I saw no eyes, but I could tell he met mine.

"Hey there!" he said, waving his hands. His voice was friendly and relaxed, a young American by the sound of it. "Looks like you're the second!"

"Damn," I said. "And here I was hoping I was first."

He laughed. "If it makes you feel better, it was close. I've only been here an hour or so."

I stepped forward, on two good legs. Or perhaps I glided or teleported. Either way, I found myself sitting opposite of him. The moment I did, the chair changed. It became a beautiful red leather masterpiece, laced with ornate gold.

"Interesting taste," he said. "Definitely a bit gaudy."

I tapped the arm of the chair, crossing my legs. "Agreed. I would have chosen something a little more...quaint."

The man of shadows smiled with no mouth. "Is that so? I assumed that the chairs were reflections of our inner selves or some shit like that. Do you like money or something?"

"Or something. So, what do you know about this place?"

The man leaned back in his steel throne. "You ever watch a cartoon where the bad guys all stand around a big non-euclidean room in a circle to discuss their ominous plans?"

Now that he mentions it...several times. Isn't it weird how ideas tend to be reused? "Does that make is the evil council?" I asked.

"I do believe we are technically the baddest dudes in the world right now, but I'm not leaning towards the evil angle personally. Can't we be a heroic council? Discuss charity and reconstruction plans?"

I laughed. Probably not. "I'm James. You?"

"Greg. I'd shake your hand, but I've got no hand to shake with."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"It's the thought that counts. So...what's the world look like from where you're standing? Ruined buildings all around?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

We both sat in silence for a moment, staring at each other. "...You going to elaborate?" I asked.

"Sorry, but no. Do you want to share your story instead?"

Probably wise. "Hmm...that's going to be a no from me, dawg."

"Fair, fair."

We continued to sit in silence. Apparently, we were both the kind that holds our cards close to our chests. I could start weaseling him for information, befriending him, etc etc...but something told me that it would be a waste of my time. The man had a poise that almost matched mine. I wouldn't get a thing out of him.

"...Why is this place so damn creepy?" I asked.

"Maybe it will change form with some more people," offered Greg.

"Oddly specific assumption, my friend."

He shrugged. "It will get more lively at the very least."

The light swung to the far end of the round table, illuminating a woman's form. The chair was made of Ice, sharp extrusions emerging from the back.

She blinked in confusion and looked around in fear. "Where...what?"

"Hey there, lady!" greeted the man opposite me, raising his hand. "I'm Greg!"

The woman looked over us, and quickly gathered her wits. She leaned forward on the table and held her head in her hands. "What are you?"

Greg chuckled politely. "Oh I'm as human as the rest of you, this is just an...anonymity filter. You look the same, after all."

Right, this guy definitely knew more than he was letting on. He wasn't even doing a particularly good job of trying to act otherwise.

The woman turned to me expectantly. "What about you?"

I shrugged. "What about me?"

Silence, for a moment, then the woman sighed, crumpling in her seat. "Sorry. I've had...a very long day."

I nodded. "So have we all, my dear. Want to tell me about it?"

"Before that," she said, "Just tell me one thing...How many survivors do you have with you?"

Her face was as fogged in shadow as the rest, but I could tell the question came from the heart. She wasn't trying to probe her rivals. "Just...a few hundred," I said. "But the city's big, and not completely flattened. I'm sure there are more survivors in the region."

She nodded. "I hope you can do your best to save as many as you can...humanity must come together, if we are to survive this."

"Agreed," said Greg.

We both turned to him, and he shrugged. "Sorry, I can't really say how many."

The woman just shook her head, and turned to me. "My name is Tatiana. Yours?"

"James. Pleasure."

She nodded. "We need to share as much information as possible...I've got no earthly clue as to what's going on, what to expect, and what to do. I've got hordes of undead sieging my desperate, makeshift community, and not enough people to keep it in check. I'm riding the razor's edge between complete extermination and survival of a thousand people."

Her voice began to crack. "I need...as much help as I can get."

I gave another glance to Greg, who seemed to have no interest in speaking up. "What do your surroundings look like?"

"Eastern-European, strangely Gothic. The town has a damn castle in the center of it. Climate is cold, with constant snowfall."

I shook my head. "I don't think we have any way of finding each other, I'm somewhere else entirely. I'm afraid we're both on our own."

The woman closed her eyes and shuddered. "...Why me?" she whispered.

"Why what?" I echoed, "Why did the world end? Why are you in this situation? Why you've found yourself responsible for the lives of so many?"

She nodded slowly.

"Well, you're probably just too exceptional. You have some powerful magic, don't you?"

"...yeah," she said. "Because that's happening too."

"So, your core met a certain threshold, and boom, qualified as a forerunner. Didn't...anybody explain this to you?"

Her eyes opened, and she stared right at mine with sudden ferocity. "No. Did someone explain this to you? I just found a phone with a single app on it, right beside a spear made of ice."

Interesting.

Greg cleared his throat. "Actually, the threshold isn't automatic. It's judged based on relative Aether capacity, authority, and circumstance."

The woman slammed her hands against the table. "But who? Who the fuck is judging us? and why? What do we deserve to be judged for?! Nobody deserves this! People shouldn't be torn apart on the fucking streets, turned into monsters...they..."

She stopped, burying her face in her hands. Quiet sobs echoed in the darkness.

It was...harsh, to see a normal perspective. Honestly, this whole thing has been just one big win for me. If I could have stopped this entire thing, I wouldn't have. I like the opportunity. I have a chance to make it great, and that's all I ever wanted. Sure, the vast majority of the population has probably died horribly by now, but at the rate we were going nukes or global warming were going to do it within the next few decades anyway, so does it really matter?

Honestly, that last bit is an excuse. I just don't care. It's not so much callousness or soullessness, it's just...numbers like that are statistics. So many have died that it has lost all meaning. Can someone truly emphasize with billions of people? I just can't fathom it. I've known empaths in my life, people who cry walking into a fort from the civil war, just at the thought of those thousands of dead people.

What would they do now? Would they walk the streets of this city, think about the billions lost, and just go catatonic? Spontaneously combust? I can't imagine they would be able to care. For most people, 'caring' extends to friends and family, people that you know, people that exist in your tiny little bubble of the world.

That being said, I bet just about everybody has lost somebody. Once the immediate fear of death dies down, emotions are going to boil over. I'll need to be proactive in order to keep people busy enough to not let them stew in their dread. I'll need to motivate, to inspire...

To be a leader. That's the whole damn plan anyway.

"If there's any advice I can give you," I began. "Is find as many people as you can that show signs of magic. Nurture them, care for them, make sure they are with you against the undead."

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the swaying light. "I have a feeling that magic is going to be the single most important thing to survival...no, to humanity."

"Yeah..." said Tatiana. "I think you might be right."

Sure I was. I always am.