[1915]
Across the endless miles of trenches in the conflict that would later be remembered as the last mortal war, the rain fell without end.
It turned the ground into a thick mire and soaked the uniforms of thousands of soldiers on both sides of no man's land, making no distinction between the living and the dead, the country they fought for, or the ideas that had cast them there: water and mud embraced them all alike.
The echo of war: the chattering of teeth when a soldier dared to raise his head above the trench to fire; the ragged screams trailing behind the artillery blasts that had thundered on for months—suddenly gave way to an unnatural silence.
Only then did the whistles ring out clear; captains blew with all their breath, halting the fight. For an instant, regardless of the side, all heard it across the trenches, as if they had conspired to stop the war at once.
Once the news was confirmed, the officers—voices trembling as though doubting their own words—ran along the trenches shouting:
"It's over!"
Little by little, as the news spread along the front, nervous laughter and sobs gave way to cries of joy.
-
In the rest of Europe's cities, the announcement arrived with the same suddenness.
In London, church bells rang out to spread the news, and newspapers were handed out on every corner with a headline that set the crowds rejoicing:
— The Great War Halts! —
The streets burst into spontaneous celebration. People embraced, laughed and wept in the arms of strangers. It was a moment many had dreamed of, but none had expected to come so abruptly.
In a modest house on the outskirts of the city, Amelia, a thirty-two-year-old woman with her hair tied back and worn hands, gazed out the window with a faint smile as her two children ran through the street, carried along by the joy outside.
On the threshold, her husband Thomas adjusted his work jacket.
"Where are you going?" she asked, frowning as she realized.
"To the factory," he replied, lighting a cigarette with little enthusiasm. "There's an urgent meeting."
Amelia stared at him in disbelief.
"Why keep making weapons… if the war has stopped?"
Thomas shook his head, resigned.
"The government says we must go on. In fact, they want production increased. Now that the soldiers are returning…"
Amelia's heart tightened. Something in that irrational command stirred a dark premonition within her, and she asked again:
"Why?"
Thomas, with no answer to give, simply shrugged. He kissed her on the forehead and left the house, heading toward the factory.
Amelia's uneasy feeling would not come true until five years later… though not in any way anyone could have imagined.
-
The first recorded case was a shepherd on the outskirts of Ankara, Turkey, where—eleven kilometers beyond—overnight… they appeared.
-
[1920]
"Oi, Elif, where did those… things come from?" asked the younger brother in Turkish, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
Elif didn't answer right away. Gripping his staff, he kept his flock calm—ironically, while he himself could not—lifting his gaze to see them for the first time.
When he finally spoke, it was barely a whisper: "A-ayaz… have you ever seen anything like this before?"
"No…" he murmured, convinced that no one ever had.
A shiver ran down both their spines as they gazed at the black towers or monoliths rising like twisted roots into the mist—hundreds of feet tall—swallowing the dawn light in a pulsing rhythm… as if they were breathing.
-
"We should go back to the village—tell the imam… tell anyone," said Elif, keeping the herd together with sharp strikes of his staff against the ground.
The goats stirred nervously, as if they too longed to flee from that unnatural structure.
Ayaz laughed, though the sound trembled. "And tell them what? That two black towers grew out of nowhere overnight? They'll laugh at us."
"I'd rather be laughed at than have something happen to us, brother."
But the young man was already climbing the great rock from which… one of the monoliths had sprouted.
"I just want to have a proper look. If we go back empty-handed, no one will believe us."
Elif clenched his jaw, hesitating. He glanced at the herd, then at his brother scaling the rock.
"For God's sake, don't be a fool!" he shouted, but Ayaz kept climbing.
When he reached the base of the strange structure, Ayaz stopped to observe: Its surface was covered in the finest spiral grooves, as though carved by an infinite patience. They weren't mere markings: they resembled letters, but of an alphabet without meaning, impossible strokes that seemed to shift whenever one looked away.
Its material was even more unsettling: an absolute black, so deep it devoured the light like a bottomless pit.
"It's not even stone…" he said aloud, hoping his brother could hear, while raising his hand to test its texture.
"Don't touch it!" Elif barked, his voice taut.
But hypnotized by that darkness that swallowed every photon, Ayaz smiled with a strange glint in his eyes—a mix of fear and fascination—before pressing his palm against the monolith.
Instead of sinking into it, as he had thought would happen, his fingers only grazed the surface—and then a vibration ran through his hand, resonating across the entire monolith like a tuning fork.
At once, the goats broke ranks and fled down the hillside like a flooding river.
"You IDIOT—get down from there, now!" Elif shouted, sprinting after the herd while cursing his brother.
-
When they reached the village, they weren't the only ones who had seen the monoliths. From the pens and the houses, others were pointing in the same direction—but only Elif and Ayaz had been reckless enough to approach them.
Once word spread, the village leader, the imam, and several families gathered around them.
"Speak," the imam said, frowning. "What did you see?"
Elif answered, while his brother lingered a few steps behind, oddly distracted.
"We went closer to check them… they were dark, twisting around each other in a way that was…" He struggled for words, then finished, "unsettling to watch."
"And what's wrong with Ayaz?" the imam asked, glancing toward the young man, who was clawing violently at his ear.
"The idiot touched them. Ever since, he can't stop hearing this; irritating ringing." Elif spat, his anger laced with helpless worry.
The unnatural appearance of those towers drove many to seek comfort in their faith. And despite Ayaz's seemingly "harmless" condition, a trembling murmur pleading for Allah's mercy spread through the crowd.
Elif was about to defend his brother's health, but he froze when he turned toward him.
"Ayaz!?" he asked, his voice breaking. His brother's face was pale with terror as he dug his fingers desperately into his ears until they bled.
Suddenly, the young man collapsed to his knees, clutching his head with both hands."Make her stop!-stop!" he screamed, as if someone were whispering straight into his ear, drilling into his skull.
"Shut up—shut up!" he bellowed, slamming his head again and again against the stone bricks of the village square, each blow heavier, more frantic, as though he could smash the voice out of existence.
The villagers recoiled in alarm as tremors racked his body. Cracks echoed from within him, like branches snapping under weight.
At his brother's screams, Elif threw himself down beside him, trying to seize his arms and stop the desperate blows against the stone.
"Brother, hold on… just hold on!"
Ayaz raised his face. Tears streaked his cheeks, but the humanity in his eyes was already gone. His jaw split open with a dry snap, and an animal howl tore from his throat.
Elif barely had time to raise his staff before Ayaz hurled himself at him. The impact knocked him to the ground, and in seconds the dust of the square was soaked in blood.
The village erupted in screams. Women fled clutching children, men seized stones and useless tools. But nothing stopped Ayaz as he lunged at his own mother, his nephews, anyone within reach.
One by one, the fallen bodies began to convulse. Between spasms they rose again, bones breaking and rearranging into impossible shapes, empty eyes glinting with hunger. The vibration of the towers had found new voices in every corpse, multiplying the nightmare.
And soon, the entire village had become a chorus of screams and cracking bones, a tide that no longer distinguished between man and abomination.
-
The horrors that befell that small village on the outskirts of Ankara repeated themselves across the world—on every continent where those immense monoliths had materialized overnight.
Within days, millions living in the shadows of the Monoliths succumbed to the "frequency" that twisted them into grotesque parodies of the human beings they had once been.
And yet, despite such unprecedented and terrible circumstances, the nations of men—who had never ceased producing weapons and drilling soldiers, even through five years of sudden peace—
…reacted with suspicious speed.
-
Three days later…
A hundred kilometers from the lost city of Ankara, atop a hill where the command post rose, an officer presented himself with a report.
"The perimeter is complete, sir."
The general scarcely hesitated. "Proceed with containment. Open fire."
"But, sir?" The young soldier lowered his gaze, hesitating. "What if there are still civilians? Perhaps—"
The general cut him off. He remembered all too well the secret meeting with that group even the politicians obeyed. His gaze turned… dangerous, as if the survival of the species rested on his shoulders.
"The evacuation is finished." His voice was cold, unappealable. "From now on, nothing that comes out of Ankara will be considered… human."
The soldier went pale, swallowed, and nodded awkwardly before turning to pass the order.
Seconds later, the general's face was lit by the glare of the artillery. Night became day. Thousands of guns, mortars, and machine guns roared in unison from the colossal ring surrounding the city, unleashing unremitting fire…
For days. Weeks. Months.
And still—it mattered not how much time we bought, nor how many forces we assembled.
Humanity—and the organization forged for this day—had never been prepared for the moment the true purpose of the monoliths was revealed.