Thomas moved first.
Shadow-3 flanked him, silent and close, their carbine at the low ready. Behind them, Ghost and another operator from Alpha Team crept forward, spacing themselves evenly along the treeline. The ruined chapel stood still in the clearing—just as it had from the drone feed. Cracked arches. Crumbled pews. An altar made of stone and fire-blackened wood. But it wasn't empty.
Twelve veiled figures swayed in rhythm, kneeling in uneven rows near the altar. Thin robes clung to skin soaked by the jungle humidity. The children didn't move like children. They didn't look around, didn't speak, didn't fidget. They hummed—low, reverent, hypnotic.
Thomas's fingers tightened around his DMR.
He and his team fanned out in a wide crescent formation around the building's left perimeter. The eastern wall had a collapsed section—just wide enough for silent entry.