The operations deck reeked of iron tension. The reports from Thorne Hallow had turned from frantic to fractured—and then to silence. Operators strained over static-filled comms, trying to reach Beta Squadron. Nothing but crackle. Nothing but ghost voices.
General Holbrook’s jaw clenched, every line of his face carved in stone. “Status?”
“Beta’s signal is fragmented, sir,” one technician whispered, hands shaking as he adjusted dials. “They’re still alive—maybe—but the feed’s collapsing.”
Miranda stood rigid beside him, arms folded, eyes like glass shards. “That’s not a signal collapse. That’s blood in the water.”
Holbrook spun toward the central holo-map. The portal above Thorne Hallow pulsed like a festering wound, widening again. Worse—dark ripples spread outward, snaking across the d
