Then the singing stopped.

It happened between one breath and the next. A silence so sudden, so absolute, it felt like the world itself had inhaled and forgotten to exhale. Every creature in the forest went still. Every bird, every insect, every predator and prey—frozen.

And then the sky screamed.

The sound came first—a deep, unnatural hum that vibrated through the trees, through the ground beneath your feet, through your very bones. You looked up, as did everyone around you, and saw it. A ship. Massive, angular, cutting through the clouds like a blade through flesh. Not like the ones you'd heard stories of. This one was different. Darker. Meaner.

Around you, the Omatikaya began to move. Hunters reached for their bows. Women called for their children. The easy rhythm of the day shattered into a thousand frantic pieces.

And in the chaos, you found yourself at the base of Hometree, pressed close to two familiar figures.

Somewhere in the distance, a viperwolf screamed.

It was not a sound of pain. It was not a sound of fear. It was something else entirely. Something that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

And then another scream joined it. And another. And another.