The team pressed on through the cloud forest, now aware that Asphodelian special forces were operating in the area.
Warrant Falin had confirmed the presence of BAR 41 in the region. Command had responded with orders to continue the search for the Shepherd, assuring them that the QRF would be deployed shortly to reinforce their position.
Cautiously, the team followed the winding path, every sense on edge, until they emerged into a vast clearing—easily the size of a high school field. Overhead, the clouds converged unnaturally, drawn to this exact spot as if by some invisible tether. Three other paths fed into the clearing from different directions, forming a broad, unnatural intersection. At its center loomed a dense swath of mist, thick and impenetrable—like a barrier of fog that swallowed sight and sound alike.
Warrant Falin gave the signal to secure the clearing, and the squad moved in. They positioned themselves to hold the other paths, the forest, as well the clearing itself.
"Where do we move now, Warrant?" Eve heard a BHISL call over comms.
Warrant Falin scanned the clearing. The fog in the center started to clear. "Get your trackers ready," the warrant said. "Something's telling me that it's here."
It was then when the Cloud Shepherd revealed itself to them. The fog that had shrouded the center of the clearing cleared, and there it was. The Shepherd squatted on its hind legs, its lanky and spindly arms resting on its knees. The being was entirely white, with the exception of a gray mask that covered its face. A selection of purple, red, green, blue, yellow, and brown masks—each easily the size of a person—hung from what appeared to be a belt fashioned out of vines.
Its intricate horns seemed to wriggle as if they had lives of their own, and as the Shepherd stood, it towered above the coniferous trees of the forest. Even though it was skinny, its size was immense—its claws were easily the size of Eve.
Though its eyes were concealed behind the mask, the weight of the Shepherd's gaze was unmistakable—probing, curious, and impossibly ancient. From its perch high above, the being loomed like a god out of time, and yet, none of the operators flinched. Eve felt a flicker of pride in herself and the team; not one of them broke formation, not even in the face of something that defied reason, something that shouldn't exist.
Its presence alone was overwhelming—like a pressure in the air, dense and suffocating, pulling at their lungs and nerves. It didn't speak, didn't move, and yet it radiated authority so absolute it felt like kneeling might be the only correct response. The very atmosphere around it seemed to hush, as if the world itself dared not breathe in its presence.
"TOC,[1] this is Ground. We've located the Shepherd, permission to fire trackers." Warrant Falin was the first to break that silence.
"Ground, this is TOC. You have the go-ahead, Warrant."
Warrant Falin nodded to the team. Those carrying trackers fired, but the trackers seemed to pass through the Shepherd as if it wasn't actually there.
"TOC, please advise, trackers didn't stick—they passed right through this thing like it was nothing. Requesting exfil." Warrant Falin called it in.
There was a rustle of static. "Ground, this is TOC. Exfil location marked. Get out of there."
"Wilco. Squads, back the way we came."
The Cloud Shepherd, almost as if it could hear this conversation, reached down and blocked their path with its bony fingers. The forest seemed to grow back, obstructing their path.
Is this thing hostile? Eve shifted uncomfortably.
"Hold you fire—we're not sure of its intentions. Until explicit hostility, do not fire. As evident by our trackers passing through this thing, we're not sure of its capabilities. Don't make any sudden moves." Warrant Falin warned the team.
Regardless, Eve and the rest of the teams kept their rifles trained at the being. There were sounds of creaking branches and the rusting of leaves as the Cloud Shepherd squatted back down. It inched closer, pushing its face slowly towards Warrant Falin before stopping perhaps a school bus' distance away. The mask split in half, revealing a maw of blindingly white and disturbingly humanoid teeth.
Then, the Shepherd made a series of clicks and whistles. The sound was ear-piercingly loud in the clearing, and Eve could see birds flying away from their perches in trees. Strangely, Eve could almost feel what the Shepherd was trying to communicate as it closed its mouth and waited for a reaction.
I just want to talk.
"Can we even communicate with this thing? Can it even understand what we're saying?" Vian whispered.
The cloud shepherd unnaturally twisted its head 90 degrees on its side to look at her.
Yes, we can. Can. Oil can. Can of worms. Canary. Your language has such fun systems.
Vian immediately shut up, clutching her rifle tighter.
"TOC, please advise. The Shepherd wants to talk, over." Warrant called over comms.
Nothing returned from TOC except for static and the occasional jumbled syllable.
"TOC, please advise—"
I can't let you do that, young one. I just want to talk. Talked, talking, talk. Talk!
Warrant Falin made no indication of listening to it, and the team kept their rifles pointed at the Shepherd.
I will not harm you if you do not harm me. An exchange! I will give you information. Humans are at risk. The world is at risk. You must stop the souls from succeeding. Succeed, Succeeding, Succeeded. Such delightful tones!
"Keep your weapons up—we can't be sure of its capabilities."
Very well. It matters not, you only must know. I will tell you now. You are at risk. The souls of the dead have called us here. They have a portal of metal, and are tempering with what they can not control. You must stop them before it is too late. Latest. Late.
Unsure of what to make of or do with this information, the team halted in their paths. "Pay no attention to it. We need to find an exit." Falin said, continuing to inch back slowly. With those words, the forest seemed to grow thicker around them, as if denying them the right to leave. The squads froze.
This is important. So important. So, very, very, very important. The Elder wants you to know. The Elder does not wish for humans to die. Trust the Elder. Eldest! Elder.
It was then that a gunshot rang out. Surprisingly, it pierced deep into the Cloud Shepherd's shoulder, shattering the joint completely. The Shepherd jolted. Its arm now hung by mangled strands of flesh, bone, and sinew. Quickly, its torn flesh and bone flew back together, sewing itself shut.
"Who fired?" Falin shouted.
Glancing around the clearing, it was clear that no one moved from their spot.
The Cloud Shepherd, however, reached for its belt, sliding the gray mask away and replacing it with a red one. As the swap was made, thick clouds rolled in from nowhere, curling around its face, veiling its features in mist.
Then it spoke again—but the tone was no longer calm. Its voice tore through the air, shrieking and clicking with a fury so vast and ageless it felt carved from the bedrock of time itself. It was the sound of an archaic being howling across forgotten mountain ranges, roaring before the first histories were ever told.
The very air trembled beneath the weight of it. Hatred and fear radiated from the being in oppressive waves, as if the storm it commanded had been brewing for centuries, millennia—an endless rage that had seen empires rise and fall, and now, at last, had turned its full attention to the present. Eve struggled not to buckle under the pressure.
We had a deal, you ungrateful vermin.
It raised an arm and brought it down, claws shredding through the air as it headed straight for Elisa and Eve. The other arm shot for Falin and their team.
[1] TOC = Tactical Operations Center. Basically the command center where the brains of the operation (officers, commanders, coordinators, etc.) will be.