We followed Mara's instincts.
Not because I trusted them. Because they were the only lead we had. The only compass in a world where north didn't mean anything anymore.
Several kilometers outside Haven, we found an abandoned communications tower. It rose from the forest like a rusted needle, its antenna snapped in half, its base covered in vines. But something about it was wrong. The vines were dead. The birds that should have nested in its heights were absent.
Mara stopped at the base. "Here."
I looked around. "Why?"
"I don't know." She touched the metal. "It feels... right."
We entered.
Inside were dozens of dead birds. Pigeons, crows, sparrows—dozens of them, scattered across the floor, their bodies covered in strange black veins that pulsed faintly in the dim light.
I crouched beside one. Its eyes were open, black, reflective. Its beak was parted in a silent scream.
I looked at Mara.
She stared at the corpse, her hand over her mouth.
"I didn't do that."
"I know."
I touched the bird with my gloved hand. The black substance beneath my skin reacted instantly, surging toward the contact, hungry for more. The corpse twitched. Its wing flapped once, twice, as if trying to fly despite being dead.
I pulled away.
Mara stepped backward. "What was that?"
I stared at the body. "The syndrome."
"Mine?"
"I don't know."
I looked toward the top of the tower. Something was there. I could hear movement. A scratching. A pecking. A heartbeat that was too slow, too large, too wrong .
Mara heard it too. We looked at each other.
Then we climbed.
The stairs were rusted, treacherous. Every step groaned. But we climbed, past the dead birds, past the black veins that covered the walls like ivy, past the smell of rot and something else—something sweet and chemical.
At the top, we found a nest.
It was enormous. Not a bird's nest. Something else.
Twigs and wire and strips of cloth woven together into a platform that filled the observation deck.
Inside it were several eggs.
But they weren't normal eggs. They were the size of footballs, their shells covered in black veins that pulsed in unison, like a shared heartbeat.
Mara stared, her eyes wide, her body trembling.
I felt cold. A cold that had nothing to do with the wind.
The syndrome wasn't simply spreading between humans.
It was spreading through animals.
And something was using the tower as a breeding ground.
Mara whispered: "Kael..."
I looked at her.
One of the eggs moved.
Crack.
A small black claw pushed through the shell. Then another. Then a beak, sharp and glistening, tearing its way into the world.
I grabbed Mara's arm. "Run."