The air in the Citadel of Ash crackled with nervous energy. Just weeks ago, they had tasted a victory, a hard-won defense against a savage onslaught. Now, the air vibrated with an unease that felt thicker, heavier. The lookouts, stationed at the reinforced blast doors and meticulously plotted observation posts, reported little: only the wind whipping through the skeletal remains of Berlin, the mournful howl carrying echoes of a forgotten world. But Marcus felt it in his bones, a primal warning screaming of imminent danger.