The first signs of trouble came from the children.
Not an attack. Not a threat. Something more subtle. Something that crept up on them slowly, like a fog rolling in from the mountains. It started with nightmares. Then whispers. Then strange behaviors that didn't make sense.
Ethan noticed it on a Tuesday afternoon. He was walking through the community square when he saw a group of children huddled together. Their faces were pale. Their eyes were wide. They were whispering to each other in urgent tones.
"What's going on?" he asked.
One of the older children looked up. Her name was Maya. She was twelve. Bright. Curious. But today, her face was pale with fear.
"It's the Frequency, Mr. Cole. We can hear it. All of us. Even the ones who aren't supposed to be Receivers. It's like it's gettin
