Not the mechanical hum of the compound's generators, but something else. Something alive. The air shimmered around you, a faint golden haze that crackled at the edges of your vision.

You'd been pushing harder than usual. Testing the limits of your forcefield until sweat dripped down your temples and your muscles burned from the strain of maintaining it.

Then came the wave.

It hit the compound like a physical thing—a ripple of magic that made the lights flicker and the ground shudder beneath your feet. You felt it collide with your barrier, felt the strange, sickening sensation of something trying to rewrite itself inside your head.

Your forcefield held.

When you finally dropped it, gasping for air, the room was silent.

Too silent.

Dozens of messages. All glitched. Names replaced with empty spaces. Photos reduced to gray thumbnails.

A single text from an unknown number sat at the top.

Your thumb hovered over it. Something cold settled in your chest.

The hallway outside the training room was quiet. Too quiet. Not the usual post-dinner chatter, but a heavy, waiting silence.

You stepped out.