ISABELLA — THE DAWN THAT SHOULDN'T EXIST
The world outside glowed like sunrise but it wasn't sunlight.
Through the broken window, Isabella watched the forest shimmer in molten gold, every tree edged with faint light. Shapes moved between them slow, deliberate, silent.
The baby in her arms stirred. Ava's eyes fluttered open, catching the strange light as if she knew it.
Sebastian stood beside her, his jaw tight, hand resting on his gun even though deep down he knew bullets meant nothing now.
Liam adjusted the scanner clamped to his wrist. The readings pulsed wildly, symbols flashing across the cracked screen. "Whatever those things are," he murmured, "they're broadcasting on the same frequency as her."
"Broadcasting?" Sebastian asked.
"Not just data," Liam said. "Emotion. Intention. It's like a hive and she's the heart."
Isabella held Ava closer. "They won't hurt us," she whispered.
Sebastian looked at her sharply. "How do you know?"
