June 11, 2025 — 54 Days Since First StrikeFort Calinog — Northern Observation Ridge
The fog was thick. Not natural fog, not the kind that rolled in from the mountains with dew and morning chill. This was something else—something heavy. Chemical. Every breath carried the taste of copper and mildew.
Lira Morales stood at the edge of the northern ridge, flanked by two spotters and one sharpshooter from Overwatch. They were all silent now. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. They only listened.
The sound had returned.
Not the howl from the day before. That had been brutal—bestial. This was different.
This was... singing.
Faint. Wordless. Melodic. Like a lullaby hummed by something that had never been human. It rose and fell in perfect harmony with the pulse of the Bloom spreading below. Every time it crescendoed, a section of the forest twitched—as if responding.
"It's coming from the growth field," whispered one of the spotters. "Somewhere near the old creek bed."
