Then came the injured barn cat—limping, shaking, eyes wide with fear—found near his old truck. That same afternoon, his youngest daughter tugged on his sleeve, saying the eggs were moving. Jack followed her to the field, uneasy but unable to ignore the pull of whatever this was. Something was changing.
By sundown, Jack stood in the middle of the field, surrounded by faintly glowing shells. He didn’t understand what was happening, only that it wasn’t natural. The farm had become something else—something waiting to awaken. And from that moment on, nothing would ever be the same.
