Isolated Realms

This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice. The morning mist clung to the valley like a shroud, obscuring the ruins that dotted the landscape beyond the settlement's protective walls. Elena Vasquez pressed her palm against the cold stone of the watchtower, feeling the ancient mortar crumble slightly under her touch. Three years had passed since the Great Collapse, and still the world seemed to grow smaller each day. "Another patrol didn't return last night," Marcus called from below, his weathered face etched with the same worry that had become permanent fixtures on all their faces. At sixty-two, he was the oldest among their group of survivors, and his experience as a former military engineer had proven invaluable in fortifying their sanctuary. Elena descended the narrow stone steps, her boots echoing in the confined space. The watchtower had been part of an old monastery, abandoned long before the world changed. Now it served as their eyes and ears, scanning the horizon for threats that seemed to multiply with each passing week. "How many is that this month?" she asked, though she already knew the answer would bring no comfort. "Seven good people," Marcus replied, removing his wool cap to run fingers through thinning gray hair. "The northern passes are becoming impossible. Whatever's out there, it's getting bolder." The settlement of Haven consisted of thirty-seven souls, down from the fifty-three who had originally sought refuge together. They had chosen this location carefully, nestled in a valley between two mountain ranges that provided natural barriers against both the elements and the roving bands of desperate survivors who had turned to violence in their struggle to live.