The blue light of the holographic displays cast deep, skeletal shadows across Doctor Dwayne Dedris's face as he leaned forward, his withered hands trembling slightly on the titanium surface of the table. The younger board members sat in a state of paralyzed fascination, the air in the room turning heavy with the weight of a history they had only heard in fragments of fearful whispers.
"Forty-one years ago," Dwayne began, his voice dropping into a rasping, rhythmic cadence that seemed to pull the room back through time. "I was twenty-nine. A young man filled with the same arrogant fire you see in the mirror today. But the world back then... it was a slaughterhouse. There were no borders. There was no 'East Border' or 'Healthwat Security.' There were only the demons, and there were the dying. They moved across our lands like a black tide, harvesting us not for food, but for the sheer sport of watching a species vanish."
