Night fell over Hollow Creek like a funeral shroud.

The storm above the silos grew stronger with every passing hour.

Purple lightning clawed across the clouds, illuminating the horizon in flashes of unnatural light.

Inside the pharmacy, nobody slept.

Not after what they had seen.

Not after the vision of the Throne King.

Aiden sat near the doorway, cleaning his rifle.

Across the room, Noah slept beneath a blanket Lena had found.

The boy’s face twitched constantly.

Dreaming.

Or perhaps suffering the same nightmare haunting the rest of humanity.

Marcus paced beside the broken windows.

"We can’t stay here."

Nobody argued.

"The dead are moving toward those silos," Marcus continued. "And whatever is controlling them is getting stronger."

Father Gideon slowly nodded.

"The answers are there."

Ethan looked at him.

"You want us to walk straight toward the source of the apocalypse?"

"No."

The priest’s eyes darkened.

"I believe we no longer have a choice."

Silence filled the room.

Everyone understood.

If the horn could control living people, nowhere would remain safe.

Eventually the Throne King’s reach would spread everywhere.

Aiden stood.

"We leave at dawn."

The decision was made.

For the first time, their mission was not survival.

It was discovery.

Morning arrived beneath a sky stained gray and purple.

The group left Hollow Creek shortly after sunrise.

Noah insisted on coming.

Despite Lena’s objections, the boy refused to stay behind.

"My parents are there," he said.

"I have to find them."

Hours passed as they crossed abandoned highways littered with wrecked vehicles and forgotten belongings.

Evidence of a world that had died quickly.

Too quickly.

By afternoon they reached the outskirts of the industrial complex.

The silos towered above them like giant tombstones.

There were twelve of them.

Each massive.

Each surrounded by rusting pipes and broken machinery.

And all around them marched the dead.

Thousands.

Perhaps tens of thousands.

The zombies circled the complex in complete silence.

No growling.

No screaming.

No hunger.

Only obedience.

Zara studied them through her binoculars.

"This isn’t a horde."

"What is it?" Ethan asked.

She lowered the binoculars.

"It’s an army."

A chill passed through the group.

Suddenly Noah pointed.

"There!"

Near the entrance stood dozens of living people.

Men.

Women.

Children.

Their eyes glowed faintly purple.

Their movements were slow and mechanical.

Like puppets.

Like sleepwalkers.

Like prisoners trapped inside their own bodies.

Noah gasped.

"Mom."

A woman stood among them.

Motionless.

Staring toward the largest silo.

His mother.

Aiden grabbed Noah before he could run.

"Wait."

The boy struggled.

"We have to help her!"

Before anyone could respond, the ground trembled.

Once.

Twice.

Then again.

The vibration came from beneath their feet.

The earth itself was shaking.

Marcus raised his rifle.

"What now?"

A horrifying sound answered him.

A deep grinding noise.

Stone scraping against stone.

Metal bending.

Something enormous moving underground.

Cracks suddenly spread across the ground near the central silo.

The earth split open.

Purple light erupted from the chasm.

Everyone stumbled backward.

The zombies stopped marching.

Every single one turned toward the opening.

Waiting.

Watching.

Obeying.

Then a gigantic skeletal hand emerged from the depths.

Its bones were black as coal.

Ancient.

Impossible.

The hand alone was larger than a truck.

Lena screamed.

Ethan nearly dropped his weapon.

Father Gideon’s face became pale.

"No..."

The skeletal fingers dug into the earth.

Pulling.

Rising.

Something colossal was awakening beneath the silos.

Something buried long before the zombie plague began.

Far above, on top of the largest silo, a hooded figure appeared.

The Throne King.

His glowing eyes looked upon the gathering below.

And for the first time, he raised his horn.

Preparing to sound it again.