The wind howled like a banshee through the skeletal remains of old New Kansas. The sky was a sickly gray, the clouds too still, as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
Sergeant Rurik Devane adjusted the scope on his rifle and peered down the street of what used to be Main Avenue. His unit had been disbanded two months ago after the last border wall collapsed. Now he served under no flag—just orders relayed from static-filled radios and ghost towers still clinging to Divine command.
He had seen too much. Kids born with glowing eyes. Civilians whispering prophecy in ancient tongues. Shadows that bled light instead of darkness. But this was the first time he had felt watched.
"Rurik, you're going to want to come see this." Corporal Mendez's voice crackled through the comm. "It's not human."
He froze.
"Repeat that," Rurik said.
There was a pause. Then Mendez again. "It's not human. And it's... humming."
