The sun crept over the horizon, casting long, golden rays across Pangaea Wildlife Preserve. Jayce stepped onto his porch, the usual sense of peace eluding him. He breathed in the crisp morning air, but something was different today—there was an unease hanging in the atmosphere, almost as if the park itself was holding its breath.

Jayce closed his eyes, allowing his mind to drift back to the day he first arrived at the park, fresh-faced and brimming with excitement. He'd dreamed of working with animals, more specifically dinosaurs, since he was a kid, poring over dusty zoology books in his local library. Now, five years into his dream job, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was fundamentally wrong.

The park stretched out before him, a masterpiece of genetic wonder and ecological design. Mist still clung to the treetops, and the silhouette of the distant mountains framed the landscape like a painting. In the distance, a herd of Brachiosaurus moved slowly, their long necks rising gracefully above the trees. But even they, with their slow, deliberate movements, seemed uneasy. They were closer to the park's edge than usual, a location they rarely visited.

Jayce grabbed his radio and water bottle, then set out on his morning rounds. The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he made his way down the path, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness of the morning. He approached the Triceratops enclosure first, where he noticed something that stopped him in his tracks. Tri-Tip, who was usually calm and predictable, was agitated again, his massive head swinging from side to side, tail swishing aggressively.

“Easy, buddy,” Jayce murmured, approaching cautiously. The words felt hollow in his mouth, a ritual that suddenly seemed inadequate. Instead of the usual relaxed response, Tri-Tip stamped his feet and gave a deep, guttural snort. Jayce backed off slightly, a frown furrowing his brow. This wasn't normal.

He keyed his radio. “Control, this is Jayce. We've got some unusual behavior in the Triceratops enclosure. Tri-Tip's acting up.”

After a moment of static, a voice crackled through. “Copy that, Jayce. Any signs of illness or injury?”

“Negative,” Jayce replied, his eyes still fixed on the agitated dinosaur. “He just seems... on edge. I'll keep an eye on him and report any changes.”

As he made his rounds, it became harder to ignore the subtle changes in the animals' behavior. At the Hadrosaur enclosure, Jayce found the usually placid creatures clustered tightly together, their wide eyes darting nervously at any movement. They had never huddled like that before, especially not in the open.

“Easy, easy,” Jayce murmured, trying to calm them, but they remained tense, ignoring the food he set out for them. The smell of fear was almost palpable, a musky scent that hung in the air.

He walked away, a knot of worry growing in his chest. The disturbances weren't isolated anymore—they were spreading. At every enclosure, every habitat, the creatures showed signs of unease.

In the distance, a thundering bellow echoed through the park. Jayce hurried toward the noise, arriving at the Pachycephalosaurus habitat. Normally docile, the stout herbivore was charging at the invisible barriers, ramming its head against them with alarming force. The sound of bone against crystal rang out, a discordant clang that set Jayce's teeth on edge.

Jayce whistled sharply to get its attention. “Hey, settle down!” he called out. But the creature paid no heed, continuing its aggressive attack. This wasn't normal. These usually peaceful dinosaurs were turning unpredictable, and Jayce's concern deepened.

He moved on, checking the other enclosures. The Velociraptors, who normally carried a predatory focus in their movements, seemed scattered, their heads constantly turning toward the distant hills. Blaze, their leader, sat apart from the rest, her gaze fixed on the ruins barely visible on the far side of the park. It was the same area that had drawn Jayce's attention the day before.

As he watched, a flock of pterosaurs took flight suddenly, their leathery wings beating frantically as they circled high above the park. Their shrill cries echoed across the landscape, adding to the growing cacophony of unsettled animals.

Jayce's radio crackled to life. “Jayce, this is Dr. Chen from the research center. We're picking up some unusual seismic activity. Any changes in animal behavior?”

Jayce raised the radio to his mouth, his eyes still on the circling pterosaurs. “Affirmative, Doc. We've got widespread agitation. Even the herbivores are acting aggressive. Any idea what's causing the tremors?”

There was a pause before Dr. Chen responded. “Nothing conclusive yet. We're running tests, but... Jayce, there's something else. Not only the dinosaurs are showing signs of distress too.”

Jayce's brow furrowed. “The birds and mammals? That's not good. What kind of distress?”

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“The wolves in the conservation area are howling non-stop. The primates are exhibiting stress behaviors we usually only see during major storms. Even the insects seem to be swarming erratically.”

“Copy that,” Jayce replied, his mind racing. “I'll keep you updated on the dinosaurs. Let me know if you find anything on those tremors.”

Throughout the day, the anomalies multiplied. Birds took flight in sudden, frantic bursts, their formations chaotic and purposeless. Predators roamed restlessly along the boundaries of their territories, their usual hunting patterns abandoned. In the small mammal enclosure, rabbits huddled in tight groups, their noses twitching rapidly, while nearby, a family of meerkats stood rigidly at attention, their watchful poses now tinged with visible panic.

Every species seemed to be on edge, as though sensing a shift that Jayce himself couldn't quite grasp. The air felt charged, like the moments before a thunderstorm, but the sky remained clear and indifferent to the turmoil below.

By midday, Jayce found himself at the entrance to the ruins, an unearthed relic of the park's long-forgotten history. He hadn't been here since his first weeks on the job, but today, drawn by the unease that clung to the air, he felt compelled to return. As Jayce approached the site, the landscape shifted subtly. The park's vibrant greenery gave way to a sparser, more arid environment. The earth here was dry and cracked, the vegetation thin and wiry, with patches of ancient stone poking through the soil like the bones of a long-dead creature.

The ruins themselves loomed ahead, a stark reminder of civilizations long gone. Time had not been kind to the structures—massive stone pillars leaned precariously, their once intricate carvings worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain. Jayce could make out faint symbols etched into the stone, their meanings lost to history. A wide stairway, partially crumbled, led to what must have once been a grand temple. Now, it was little more than a broken shell, the roof caved in and walls crumbling.

A strange stillness hung in the air here, almost oppressive, as though the ruins were holding their breath. The sound of the park—the calls of animals, the rustle of leaves—seemed distant and muted, as if this place existed in its own separate world.

Jayce knelt by a section of the wall, running his fingers over the carvings. The symbols felt almost alive beneath his touch, the stone unnaturally warm in the cool afternoon air. He couldn't read the ancient language, but the depictions of serpentine creatures and fire suggested something powerful and dangerous.

As his fingers traced the outline of what looked like a coiled serpent, Jayce felt a sudden vibration. It was subtle at first, barely perceptible, but it grew stronger with each passing second. The ground beneath his feet began to tremble, and loose pebbles skittered across the cracked earth.

“What the hell?” Jayce muttered, stumbling back from the wall. The tremor intensified, and he could hear the distant sound of alarmed animal calls echoing across the park.

As quickly as it had begun, the shaking subsided. Jayce steadied himself, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached for his radio, but before he could call it in, he heard the soft crunch of footsteps behind him.

He turned quickly, surprised to find a group of people approaching. At first glance, they appeared to be archeologists. They wore practical clothing—dusty boots, canvas jackets, wide-brimmed hats to shield themselves from the sun. The lead figure, a tall man with a neatly trimmed beard, smiled warmly as they drew closer.

“Didn't expect to find anyone else out here,” Jayce said, rising to greet them. “I don't think we've met. You with the archeological team?”

The bearded man nodded, extending his hand. “Dr. Sullivan. We've been tasked with studying these ruins for a few months now. Fascinating site, isn't it?”

Jayce shook his hand, his instincts already on alert. Something about the man's demeanor seemed too polished, too rehearsed. But if they were researchers, it wasn't entirely unusual for them to be interested in this area. The ruins had always drawn attention.

“Jayce,” he introduced himself. “I'm one of the park rangers. Been noticing some strange behavior with the animals lately. Did you feel that tremor just now?”

“Strange how?” Sullivan asked, his tone casual, but Jayce noticed a flicker of interest in his eyes. “And yes, we felt it. Probably just some minor tectonic activity.”

“Agitated. Restless. Like they're sensing something we're not. And it's not just the dinosaurs—all animals are acting up. As for the tremor, it seemed to originate right here, at the ruins.”

Sullivan exchanged a brief look with one of his colleagues, a younger woman with sharp eyes who seemed to be cataloging everything Jayce said. “Interesting. Animals can be sensitive to changes in their environment, even if we don't pick up on it right away. Could be nothing... or something.”

Jayce didn't like the vague way Sullivan framed his words, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he gestured toward the carvings he had been studying. “You know anything about these?”

Sullivan stepped closer, his expression unreadable as he examined the stone. “Some, yes. There are theories that these ruins are tied to ancient myths—legends of a powerful creature that once roamed these lands.”

“A dragon?” Jayce asked, his voice half-joking.

Sullivan chuckled lightly. “You've been talking to the locals, I see. But who knows? Many myths are born from a kernel of truth.”

The younger woman spoke up, her voice crisp and professional. “Dr. Sullivan, we should continue our survey. The light will be fading soon.”

Sullivan nodded. “Of course, Dr. Reeves. Well, Jayce, it was a pleasure meeting you. I'm sure we'll cross paths again.”

As the group moved deeper into the ruins, Jayce couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The disturbances in the park, the behavior of the dinosaurs and other animals, the tremors, and now this so-called archeological team—it was all starting to feel connected in a way that made his skin prickle with unease.

He was still deep in thought when his radio crackled to life. “Jayce! We need you at the visitor center, now!” It was Sarah, one of the other rangers, and her voice was tight with panic.

“On my way,” Jayce responded, breaking into a run. As he sprinted back towards the center of the park, he could hear the growing chorus of agitated animal sounds. The peaceful ambiance of the morning had given way to a cacophony of distress. Whatever was happening, it was escalating. And this time, it was impossible to ignore.