More Than a Symbol

You wake in a body that feels newly made, with no memory and no name. The lab around you is a tomb: bloodstains, corpses, shattered glass. Then you hear breathing—something not human. A silver-haired woman emerges, tears in her eyes. She calls you Mira. She says you are a human, the last one, and that you are our last hope. Her embrace is fierce, desperate. But you don't remember her. You don't remember anything. In a world where humanity is gone, what does it mean to be the one who survived?