The world didn't end.
It synchronized.
When the broadcasts began, they were dismissed as glitches—just another system failure in a collapsing world. But the signal wasn't noise.
It was a trigger.
Now the infected don't hunt blindly.
They listen.
They wait.
And they are drawn to something far more dangerous than sound.
Emotion.
In the early days of collapse, survival isn't about strength or speed—it's about control. Every breath, every movement, every flicker of fear becomes a risk. Because the infected aren't just reacting anymore.
They're responding.
As a small group of survivors struggles to adapt, they discover the truth too late: the system behind the outbreak is evolving. Learning. Refining.
And the greatest threat isn't the creatures outside.
It's the quiet, gnawing hunger growing inside them all.
A relentless psychological horror novel where silence is survival—and feeling anything at all might be the end.