The helicopter groaned, its metal skin shivering as we crossed the invisible line where the ocean turned to ice. Below us, the world was no longer blue; it was a jagged, blinding wasteland of white and obsidian shadows. The air inside the cockpit was freezing, despite the heaters screaming at full blast.
I gripped the flight stick, my knuckles white. My skin felt like it was being flayed from the inside out. Every mile we flew closer to the coordinates, the "Hunger" grew. It wasn't a physical hunger for food; it was a digital starvation. The archive inside my head was clawing at my brain, demanding to be fed the raw energy of the server we were approaching.
"Mommy, your hands are bleeding," Toby said softly.
I looked down. He was right. Tiny droplets of violet tinged blood were seeping
