by War Scenery
It all began with a metaphysical shadow cast over the planet. Deep-space relays went silent soon after. Then the rain fell. Spores burned through the atmosphere, burrowing into the soil. There were no demands. No language to be answered. This was hunger given shape. Forests sank into new pulsing growths of carapace and sinew. The dead were stripped to slurry. Every counter assault, every heroic last stand did nothing but delay the inevitable. The planet wasn’t being conquered. It was being consumed.
