They said giants were a story. Something from before the walls, before the world got small and safe.
But the ground still ticked at night. The walls still shook when the wind blew from the north.

Mara had grown up believing the Basin was the last place worth saving, that the Watch kept them safe because the monsters were gone.
Then she climbed the Wall and saw what the stories had left out.

The earth wasn’t empty. It was sleeping. And the people inside the city weren’t survivors.
They were feed.

In the ashes of Jericho, survival is not just about food and water. It is about what you are willing to keep alive when the world says let it die. Richard carries the weight of his fever-ridden sister and his mutated mother while hunter gangs stalk the ruins, chanting for the “Broodmother.” What follows is part horror, part love story, and all nightmare.