Groote Schuur Hospital – 03:12 AMThe fluorescent light above the nurse’s station buzzed like an insect trapped in glass. Nurse Talia Jacobs blinked at it, unsure whether the flickering was real or if her eyes were just playing tricks on her. She rubbed her temples. It had been a long shift, much longer than usual and the night refused to end.Groote Schuur had always been quiet at this hour, but tonight was different.It wasn’t silence, it was the absence of sound, a pressure in the air, almost as if the building was holding its breath.She checked the monitors again, and everything looked normal, all except for ward C3. The heart monitor had flatlined.Talia frowned. That wasn’t possible.She reached for the intercom to call the night doctor, but something, instinct perhaps, made her stop. Instead she stood up, pulled her cardigan tighter around her, and started down the hallway. The polished tiles squeaked under her shoes.Ward C3 had been empty for weeks. It wasn’t even on her wa

The hum had faded from her ears, but the silence it left behind was heavier than any sound. Siya Ndlovu leaned against the hood of her car, staring out at the sweep of Cape Town’s cityscape. Below, the world went on, sirens howled in the distance, buses grumbled along the Main Road, and the hospital staff bustled in and out of the emergency wing. Everything above ground remained alive, and yet, Siya could feel it.She could feel that whatever lived in Echo Ward hadn’t stayed behind.Marks stood a few steps away, his arms folded tight across his chest. His usually sharp demeanor was dulled now, haunted. She knew he was trying to rationalize it, chalk it all up to trauma, or some experimental hallucinogen wafting through the vents, but the mark burned on his chest said otherwise.Siya pulled out the photo again, the one from Echo Ward. Five patients staring straight into the camera. One with her back turned. The spiral inked on the wall behind them like a brand. Her fingers traced the

Private Recovery Room – Groote Schuur East Wing – 6:47 AMThe morning light did little to ease the tension. Siya sat at the edge of a hospital cot, eyes fixed on Asanda’s sleeping form. A tangle of wires connected to heart monitors beeped slowly, rhythmically, each sound a fragile reminder that her sister, after years of disappearance, after nightmares and unmarked graves, was alive.But even in sleep, Asanda wasn’t at peace. Her body twitched every few minutes. Her lips moved in silence, whispering things only the dead understood. The nurses had insisted on sedatives, but Siya had intervened. She needed Asanda alert, she needed answers.Marks entered quietly, holding two paper cups of bitter hospital coffee. “Any change?”“Not really,” Siya replied, accepting the cup. “Her vitals are steady. But she hasn’t spoken since we left the sublevel.”Marks glanced at Asanda, unease in his posture. “You sure we shouldn’t alert higher authorities?”Siya gave him a sharp look. “And have them loc

Detective Siya Ndlovu stared at the patient file before her. The room was cold, sterile, but something about the case felt wrong, like a whisper lurking just beneath the clinical edges. The file belonged to a man named Elias Moyo, admitted just two days ago to Groote Schuur’s psychiatric ward. His symptoms were unlike any she had seen.Marks sat opposite her, skimming the notes. “Look at this—he’s mute, but he keeps drawing these spirals everywhere. On walls, sheets, even his own skin.”Siya’s eyes narrowed. The symbol was unmistakable—like the twisted patterns they'd seen linked to the Spiral phenomena spreading through the city. But what made Elias different was the frantic energy in his drawings, as if the spirals were alive, writhing under his fingertips.“Any history of trauma?” Siya asked.Marks shook his head. “Nothing recorded. But the doctors say he arrived after a week missing from a rural clinic. Witnesses said he was found wandering in

The Namib desert fell away in the rearview mirror, swallowed by the blood-orange horizon. Dust clung to the SUV’s windows like a skin they couldn’t shake. Siya sat in silence, eyes fixed on the recorder in her lap. It had captured the strange frequency still pulsing faintly from the underground dish. Not just noise, pshe was sure of it now. Something deeper. Something intelligent.Marks drove without speaking, the long stretch of road winding back toward the South African border. It had been nearly a full day since they’d left the abandoned research station. Neither of them had slept.“What do you think they were trying to do?” he finally asked. “Out there, I mean.”Siya turned to him, voice hoarse. “Not trying. I think they succeeded, just not in the way they expected.”“Project Threnody.”She nodded. “Broadcasting something ancient. Or maybe inviting it.”Marks sighed and reached for the thermos between the seats. “And that ‘so