Beneath the dim, blood-red sky, endless chilling winds swept across the plain.
Countless human cries rose and fell like the tide, screaming wildly across the plain.
This was a special field on Blue Star, isolated from the outside world. Not even ultra-high-resolution satellites could capture it.
To a satellite's eyes, everything here looked normal. There could not possibly be heaps of bones.
He roamed the edges of the plain, calling out loudly and uttering prayers of unknown meaning.
He was the Group Owner of Shadow Stream Home, the one who held its real power, and the original founder of the Shadow Stream Organization.
Getting this far had not been easy for him. It all had to be told from the beginning, back when "he" had not yet become "it."
He had been very young then. On his way home, he happened to hear a whisper. He searched everywhere nearby but could not find its source. The voice seemed to come from the darkness, with no origin at all.
Driven by curiosity, he could not resist passing through that shaded, tree-lined path every day after school.
The whispers in the darkness really existed. Though they did not speak every day, he worked out their pattern.
Not a single phrase was comprehensible, but he found them fascinating. This was a language of another race, unlike anything known before. Perhaps he could become an interpreter for that race if he learned it.
As time passed, he began hearing things a year later.
Even when he was nowhere near that shaded, tree-lined path, he still heard those strange, inexplicable sounds.
As the auditory hallucinations grew worse, those voices sometimes flooded in while he was talking to someone. His head felt as if it would split apart, and his mouth involuntarily produced those strange sounds.