The first sign of the attack was the sky turning wrong.
One moment, it was the familiar, if unnervingly silent, blue over the Brooklyn Heights academy. The next, a patch of it directly above the compound wavered, like heat haze over asphalt, then tore open with a sound that was less a noise and more a violent rip in the fabric of reality itself. Through the jagged rift, the familiar, soul-chilling gray of the hunger world glared down at them.
Sirens blared across the academy grounds—a raw, electronic scream that shredded the last pretense of peace.
Inside the main training hall, the seventeen children didn't panic. They moved.
Dr. Morrison's voice, strained but steady, echoed from the comms. "Massive dimensional breach directly overhead! Multiple entity signatures—hundreds! They're converging on the academy!"
