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  [Last Bio-Sig Access: Red Raven]

  I've long wondered why humanity seems to have forgotten the arrival of the first harbinger of death. How did the world forget the circumstances that brought us to this point save for being tied up in a nasty civil war from 2072 to 2075 that saw 6 out the 17 billion souls packed on earth like a sardine can dead already?

  What is it about that horrible day that saw another 1 billion ushered away on the wings of demise within 24 hours?

  My suspicions of when it all began indelibly trail back to when we discovered the monolith, so many decades ago...

  An object whose inscriptions, once deciphered by my top scientists and linguists, led to the construction of a towering, 2-mile high citadel.

  I can only assume I may have called upon it in an act of stupid yearning for discovery and conquest over science, my beacon of hope for the world, a thing I spent decades building.

  A mere radio transmitter that called death on us all.

  All records of that day seemed to have been erased, no cameras, no memories, no witnesses. And yet, the evidence of its violent arrival remained, etched into the landscape. Despite my calls to our orbital stations, none answered.

  The craters and destroyed cities told the tale of a recent apocalyptic event... I myself woke up to the taste of ash on my tongue and a sticky rub of silt on my skin.

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  My wrist, broken.

  And yet I woke up as if it were another day.

  That forgotten day of 2079.

  The First Heralding.

  Anomalies spawned across the globe, and the black moon seamlessly rose and fell through the earth, erasing all it touched from existence. Those who breathed the toxic spores it left in its wake became known as the Noctus.

  They prayed to the thing shortly afterward, becoming husks and ossifying into carnivorous coral formations that covered buildings, whole swaths of land were infected, making them inhospitable.

  At the same time, the Cadre spilt from within the black moon, a standing army left over on earth to annihilate what remained of humanity and take our dead home. Not to ours.

  Hivien, their own sickly sweet, rotting, home sweet home.

  We managed to erect barriers just in time as they assaulted our refuge at Ravensmantle daily.

  In the years spent lamenting our jailer in the sky, that silence compelled a cloying question as I watched it fly over my country.

  When a forgotten, abandoned deity cries out, who would hear their pleas?

  Once we lost all contact with space during the First Heralding, it only proved to me...

  The forsaken have no voice on a silent derelict rock.

  I'm desperate to find answers.

  What truly happened?

  Why is the sky so utterly wrong?

  How do I stop her, this forgotten deity who waves at me endlessly, before it's too late for us all?

  I fear the key lies in unraveling the mysteries of the past, buried within the fragmented recollections of those who witnessed the heraldings.

  Time is running short, and I must find a way to make sense of this nightmare before it consumes us.

  The first question that comes to mind.

  Which Herald is she?