A wave of bodies surged forward, stumbling down the ramp onto soft, unfamiliar ground. Grass. Under your boots. The sky was a blue so deep it hurt to look at.

The initial euphoria lasted less than a minute. The forest around the clearing was dense, dark, and watchful. The sounds were wrong—no hum of engines, no buzz of fluorescents. Just wind, leaves, and things moving in the shadows.

That’s when the first scream cut through the air. High-pitched, from the tree line. People scattered, some running toward the sound, others backing toward the metal hull of the dropship.

In the chaos, one figure wasn’t running toward the scream or away from it. He stood slightly apart, near the edge of the clearing, his back to the group. He was just staring into the deep green of the woods, his expression unreadable.

He wasn’t talking to anyone in particular. It was more like he was confirming something to himself. The noise wasn’t the scream. It was the silence that came after. The waiting.