The world became screaming.
Kaelen had been a soldier. He had seen combat in the Belt Insurgency—the flash of plasma rounds, the crunch of broken bodies, the wet sound of men dying in the dark. He thought he knew war.
He knew nothing.
The metal birds descended like angry wasps, their rotors tearing the air apart. Flames erupted from their bellies—not the clean fire of controlled burns, but something chemical and hungry that devoured everything it touched. Trees that had stood for centuries became torches in seconds. Animals ran burning through the undergrowth. The screaming came from everywhere and nowhere—the cries of the wounded, the shrieks of the dying, the desperate calls of mothers searching for children.
"Hold!" Anya's voice cut through the chaos. "Hold until they land!"
Kaelen gripped his bow, his knuckles white. Beside him, Seri was still as stone, her eyes fixed on the descending drop-ships. Her face was painted for war, but beneath the paint, he saw fear. Not for herself—for her people, her home, everything she loved.
The first drop-ship touched ground.
Its ramp slammed down. Soldiers poured out—humans in exo-suits, their weapons gleaming, their visors hiding whatever humanity they might have possessed. They formed a perimeter, scanning, targeting—
"NOW!" Anya screamed.
The forest erupted.
From every shadow, every branch, every patch of glowing ferns, the Omaticaya rose. Arrows flew in sheets, so thick they darkened the air. Most bounced off the exo-suits, but some found gaps—joints in the armor, visor seams, the exposed flesh of soldiers who had been foolish enough to remove their helmets. Men fell screaming, clutching their throats, their faces.
Kaelen fired. He didn't think, didn't aim, just let his training and his bond with the forest guide his hands. An arrow flew. A soldier stumbled. Another. Another. He was death on two legs, and for a moment, he forgot he had ever been human.
Then the guns opened up.
The sound was physical—a wall of noise that knocked the breath from his lungs. Bullets tore through the forest, shredding leaves, shattering branches, ripping through bodies. Warriors fell around him, their blue skin darkening with blood. A young man he had shared food with yesterday crumpled without a sound, his chest opened to the alien sky.
"SERI!" Kaelen grabbed her arm, pulling her down behind a fallen log. Bullets whined overhead. "We can't hold here. They're too many."
"I know." Her voice was calm, terrible. "We don't need to hold. We need to make them follow."
She pointed. Through the chaos, Kaelen saw what she meant. The Omaticaya were retreating in good order, drawing the soldiers deeper into the forest, away from Hometree. It was working—the soldiers, drunk on firepower, were advancing without caution, chasing the fleeing warriors into the waiting jaws of the jungle.
"Come on." Seri was already moving, crouching low, weaving between trees. Kaelen followed.
Behind them, Hometree burned.