The first thing Ronan felt was the itch of serrated grass against his cheek. It wasn't the soft, manicured lawn of the base or the dry dirt of the firing range. It was sharp, cold, and smelled faintly of ozone and rotting meat."Ugh, my head..." Ronan groaned, pushing himself up. His palms pressed into soil that felt far too spongy. "Where the hell am I? This isn't the drop zone."He blinked, trying to clear the static from his vision. Huge, towering trees with bark like obsidian loomed over him, their leaves a deep, sickly violet. There was no sun, only a hazy, shimmering sky that looked like a bruise."Great. Just great," he muttered, checking his vest. "Lost in the woods with a concussion. Classic."He reached for his side, his fingers finding the familiar weight of his military-grade radio. It was a bulky, rugged thing, meant to survive a fall from a plane, but the casing was cracked, and the screen was dark. He flicked the power switch. Nothing. He slapped the side of it, a habit

The echo of the alarm horn was still vibrating in the stone walls when Vaisha lunged forward. She didn't grab her spear first; she grabbed the front of Ronan’s flight suit, hauling him toward the open cell door."You’re coming with us," she hissed, her amber eyes wide with a mix of adrenaline and dread."Whoa! Hey! Personal space!" Ronan stumbled, his boots skidding on the damp floor. "Are we going toward the screaming? Because usually, I prefer going the opposite way!""You heard the box, outlander!" Marius roared, shoving the radio back into Ronan’s shackled hands. "If your 'science' knows what’s coming, you’re going to tell us how to kill it, or I’ll throw you over the battlements myself!""Marius, enough!" Vaisha commanded, already sprinting down the corridor. "Get the tactical squads to the inner courtyard! Aris! Tell the archers to prime the Shard-bolts! Now!"The Bastion, which had felt like a tomb minutes ago, was now a hive of chaos. Men in etched plate armor scrambled past,

The heavy iron door of the workshop groaned as Ronan threw it open, his chest heaving. The flickering torchlight of the corridor felt suffocating compared to the digital glow he’d just left behind. He didn’t stop until he reached the command spire, pushing past two startled sentries who were too surprised by his frantic expression to lower their spears.Vaisha was hunched over a stone table, a single Shard-lamp casting long, jagged shadows across a map of the valley. She didn’t look up as he skidded to a halt."The sun isn't up yet, Ronan," she said, her voice raspy from lack of sleep. "Teryn was supposed to keep you busy. Did you break something already?""I didn't break anything, Vaisha. The radio... it started talking again," Ronan panted, clutching the device against his ribs. "It wasn't just technical jargon this time. It was a list."Vaisha finally looked up, her amber eyes narrowing. "A list of what?""Names," Ronan said, his voice dropping. "It’s a casualty report. It’s predic

The red light didn’t just illuminate the infirmary; it seemed to vibrate against the very marrow of Ronan’s bones. Sava Dorek stood by the venting lever, her face washed in a bloody crimson, her expression terrifyingly serene."Sava, step away from the lever!" Vaisha’s voice cut through the roar of the escaping energy as she burst through the infirmary doors, spear leveled."It’s too late, Commander," Sava said, her voice barely a whisper against the mechanical scream of the Shard-vent. "The cycle has to end. You’re just fighting for a longer funeral.""I’m not kidding, Sava! Get away from it!" Ronan yelled, lunging toward the medical officer.Before he could reach her, a concussive blast of blue-white light erupted from the vent. The shockwave tossed Ronan backward, slamming him into a row of metal cots. His head hit the frame with a sickening thud, and for a moment, the world dissolved into a smear of gray and red. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard the sounds of a struggle—t