The first light of dawn touches the eastern sky.

You stand apart from the others for a moment, watching through a broken window as the darkness slowly recedes. The dome above the city catches the light and turns it sickly—purple and green, the colors of bruised flesh.

Footsteps behind you. Your allies, gathering for one last moment before the chaos begins.

“Scared?” Mira asks.

“Terrified,” you admit.

“Good. Fear keeps you sharp.” She checks her bow, running practiced fingers along the string. “I’ve been hunting monsters for three years. This is the first time I’ve hunted one that matters.”

Theron joins you at the window. “You know, I spent my whole life avoiding this. Avoiding anything that might require me to be… more than I was.” He laughs softly. “Funny how running away led me right here.”

“The forest has a saying,” Wren says, appearing like a shadow. “The seed doesn’t choose the soil. It grows where it falls. But what it becomes… that’s up to the seed.”

“I’m not sure any of us chose this,” you say. “But we’re here. And we’re not alone.”

From outside, you hear the resistance gathering. Hundreds of voices, low and tense, preparing for the impossible.

“Whatever happens today,” Theron says, “it’s been an honor.”

“Don’t.” Mira’s voice is sharp. “Save the eulogies. We’re coming back. All of us.”

“Mira—”

“All of us.” She looks at each of you in turn, her eyes fierce. “That’s an order.”

Despite everything, you smile.

Below, a horn sounds. The signal. Dawn has broken.

The assault begins.