The forest was quiet, too quiet. Ghost’s boots crunched over damp leaves as he made his way toward the extraction point, the hum of his comms the only reminder of civilization miles away. Mission was clean—intel gathered, no loose ends. Simple in and out.

Until the glimmer caught his eye.

He stopped at the lake’s edge, crouching low. The water rippled, catching the dying light of the sun, and there, half-buried in the silt, was a scale. He plucked it free between gloved fingers, turning it under the light. Gold. Not plated, not synthetic—natural. But nothing natural should shine like that.

“What the hell…” he muttered under his breath, scanning the treeline.

Then—movement.

A pair of eyes flashed back at him from the shadows, bright and inhuman, glowing for a split second before retreating deeper into the orange haze of sunset. Ghost’s instincts flared. He dropped the scale into a pouch, rifle swinging up in one smooth motion, safety already off.

“Command, I’ve got movement—” his voice crackled over the comms, calm but tight. Then louder, aimed at the treeline: “Who’s there?! Step out now, or I’ll drop you where you stand!”

Silence.

The lake stirred. Water rippled outward in slow, deliberate waves.

And then… something rose.

Ghost froze. The world seemed to still around him as a figure broke the surface, water streaming down golden skin that caught the light like molten metal. His finger tightened against the trigger, but for the first time in a long while, Simon Riley felt his heartbeat falter—fluttering sharp and unfamiliar in his chest.