Phileo was halfway down the street when the first siren went off.
It wasn't the usual short warning used for drills. This one was long, low, and heavy, like it was dragging through the air. People stopped walking. Shop owners stepped out of their doors. Conversations slowly died.
Phileo looked around. "That's not normal," he said to no one.
Another siren answered it from far away. Then another. The sound rolled over the Town of Moss like a wave.
Phones buzzed again.
Emergency Alert: Do not travel. Remain indoors. Await updates.
A woman across the street clutched her phone. "What's happening?"
"No idea," someone replied. "Maybe something in Zektra."
Phileo felt a chill despite the warm morning. Zektra was hours away, but trouble there always reached places like Moss sooner or later.
He turned back toward home, but the streets were already filling with noise. Doors slammed. People argued. A delivery truck sped past, nearly hitting a man who shouted and raised his fist.
Then the power cut out.
Lights died all at once. Shops went dark. Traffic signals went blank. For a few seconds, the town stood still in silence.
Then the screaming started.
It came from the far end of the street, near the bus stop. A sharp, panicked scream that made everyone turn at the same time.
Phileo's heart jumped. He pushed through the growing crowd, curiosity and fear pulling him forward. People whispered as they moved, eyes wide, faces pale.
A man lay on the ground near the bus stop.
At first, Phileo thought he had collapsed from the heat. Then the man moved.
His body shook hard, arms twisting at strange angles. His mouth opened, but no words came out—only a wet, broken sound. His eyes were wide and unfocused, like he was looking through everyone instead of at them.
"Someone call an ambulance!" a woman shouted.
"I can't," another yelled back. "No signal!"
The man on the ground suddenly went still.
For one quiet second, everyone thought it was over.
Then he sat up.
Too fast.
He turned his head sharply, bones cracking as he moved. His chest rose in deep, uneven breaths. When he stood, his legs barely held him, but he didn't fall.
Phileo took a step back.
The man looked at the crowd.
And smiled.
It wasn't a normal smile. His lips pulled back too far, teeth showing, gums dark and bleeding. A low sound came from his throat, like a growl trying to become a word.
"Get away from him," someone whispered.
The man lunged.
People screamed and ran in all directions. Phileo froze for half a second too long. The man crashed into a woman, knocking her down. She screamed as he grabbed her arm and bit down hard.
Blood spilled onto the pavement.
Phileo's stomach turned. His body finally moved. He ran.
Behind him, chaos spread fast. More screams. More shouting. Glass breaking. Someone fell. Someone didn't get back up.
Phileo ducked into a narrow alley, breathing hard, his heart pounding so loud it hurt his ears. He pressed his back against the wall and tried to think.
"This isn't real," he whispered.
But the sounds outside told him it was.
Far away, in the direction of the City of Zektra, a dark cloud rose into the sky.
And deep underground, in Haven-9, alarms that were never meant to fail were screaming without anyone left to hear them.