The psychic resonance Specter mentioned wasn't a sound, but a pressure. It settled over the team like a damp, cold blanket, pressing against their temples and stirring unease deep in their guts. Clarissa gasped softly, her hand flying to her head. "It's like... a whisper you can't hear, but you can feel it in your teeth."
"Mental static. It's trying to disrupt coordination," Celestia analyzed, her voice tight with focus. "Simpler minds or isolated systems are less affected. Zoe, Specter—your readings?"
Zoe's growl was low, vibrating in her chest. "Can smell the fear-stink. Ours. And theirs. Lots of theirs. Moving in the stone, above, beside." Her beast-side was interpreting the psychic pressure as a primal hunting tactic.
