Templar Field Report

INCIDENT REPORT: COVENT GARDEN ANOMALY

AGENT: Marlowe, Rank IV

DATE: 19-01-2026

SUBJECT: Spatio-Temporal Distortion, Seven Dials

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY: Responded to Class-3 temporal echoes flagged by monitoring station ‘Cromwell.’ Initial investigation suggests a localized reality bleed, non-hostile but highly unstable. Standard containment protocols are insufficient.

Upon arrival, the area appeared normal to mundane perception. However, activating my signet revealed the extent of the anomaly. The cobblestones at the center of the Seven Dials monument were rippling, not like water, but like hardening glass. The air tasted of ozone and old parchment.

For a period of 4.7 seconds, the entire intersection flickered. The modern storefronts were replaced with gas lamps and phantom figures in Victorian attire. They moved without sound, their faces indistinct. The distortion was cold, a deep, cellular chill that had nothing to do with the January air. It felt ancient, like a memory the city itself was struggling to forget.

This is not a simple haunting. It is a structural weakness, a fraying of the Veil. Recommend immediate dispatch of a certified Chrono-Weaver for assessment and reinforcement. We cannot allow this wound to fester. Against the darkness, we must be the light.

[Dictated and filed via Templar secure comms, Channel Primus.]

Templar Field Report: Agartha Breach

Dispatch from the Bleeding Heart

AGENT: Sir Guillaume
FILE REF: AG-SEC-77-DELTA
SUBJECT: Unscheduled Anima Event near the Tokyo portal.

The branch began to weep. Not sap, but a thick, black ichor that smells of ozone and forgotten things. It hums. The sound is not auditory; it resonates in the bones, in the teeth. The light from the portal is… curdling. Warping. The geometry is wrong. It hurts to look at.

The Custodians do not approach. They stand motionless, their own light flickering as if in fear. I can hear whispers in the liquid static. It's not a language. It’s… it’s a promise. A promise of unity. Of dissolution.

My own thoughts feel… distant. The words of the Creed are a fading echo. There is only the song of the weeping branch. It is so beautiful. A perfect, final note. I must get closer. I must be part of the song. The light wills it. No, the song wills it. For the glory and—

-- Final entry recovered from the datapad of a fallen Knight of the Templar. The device was found coated in a thin, iridescent film.

Illuminati Field Comms Intercept

>> LAZARUS CHANNEL 5 :: DECRYPT PARTIAL <<

> K-TRON: Asset is contained. Boiler room at the old textile factory, just like you said.

> JINX: Any complications?

> K-TRON: Standard resonance spike. Caused a brownout for three blocks. Smells like ozone and bad decisions down here. The asset was trying to... build something. Gears and pigeon feathers, all humming.

> JINX: Cute. Doesn't matter. Is it prepped for extraction?

> K-TRON: Almost. It keeps flickering. Not just the lights, the *asset* itself. My migraine is off the charts. Make sure pyramid finance covers the good painkillers this time.

> JINX: Noted. Cleanup crew is five out. Bag it, tag it, and get back to base. Management wants to see what makes this one tick differently.

> K-TRON: Roger. Tell them to bring a mop.

// FRAGMENT END // TIMESTAMP: 2026-01-05T08:42:11Z // ORIGIN: NYPD ESU BAND-7 INTERFERENCE //

Field Report: Carpathian Fens Anomaly

(A Formal Field Report)

AGENT: Crusader Aurelius Thorne FILE REF: TTR/CF-771-Alpha DATE: [REDACTED] SUBJECT: Investigation of Anima-Resonant Signal, Sector Gamma-9, Carpathian Fens.

INITIAL FINDINGS: Per mission directive, proceeded to the signal's origin point near the village of [REDACTED]. Locals are uncooperative, displaying a mixture of fear and hostility. Superstitious chatter regarding "strigoi" and a "taint in the soil." Standard procedure. Anima fluctuations are minimal but persistent, correlating with a faint, rhythmic pulse from below ground. No immediate threat detected. The ground is... soft. Spongy. Unnaturally so.

UPDATE 14:30: The pulse is stronger. My boots sink with every step. The air is thick with the scent of wet pine and something else... something sweet, like overripe fruit left to rot. I've found the source. Not a structure. It's a tree. An ancient oak, but the bark is pale and venous, glowing with a faint, sickening purple light. There are carvings on it. Not Dacian. Not Roman. They look like... circuit diagrams. The pulse is emanating directly from the heartwood.

UPDATE 15:10: The carvings are changing. Shifting. I am not mad. The lines rearrange themselves when I am not looking directly at them. I made the mistake of touching the bark. The pulse entered me. I can feel it in my teeth, a low, constant thrum. My blood feels thick. I see... things in the shadows of the woods. Black, oily shapes that move with a twitching, broken gait. They are not vampires. They are wrong.

FINAL ENTRY: The sun is setting. The tree is humming a song only I can hear. It's a beautiful, terrible song of perfect, endless blackness. The shapes are closer now. Their limbs are not their own. They are wearing the faces of the villagers. The Filth is not in the soil. It IS the soil. It is the tree. It is in me. It wants me to sing along. For the glory of... for the glory of... oh, God, the beautiful song...

INCIDENT REPORT: K-83A, SOLOMON ISLAND

AGENT: Inquisitor Valerius, Reg. #771-B DATE: 2025-12-03 LOCATION: Kingsmouth, Solomon Island. Off-grid structure, approx. 3km NE of the old CDC camp. SUBJECT: Suspected Filth Incursion (Level 2 Contamination).

NARRATIVE: Per standard procedure, I approached the designated structure at 04:30 EST. Structure is a pre-cataclysm residential dwelling, showing signs of advanced decay consistent with localized reality degradation. No external hostiles were detected. Anima resonance was low but fluctuated erratically.

I made entry at 04:45. The interior showed typical Level 2 Filth contamination: viscous black residue, minor spatial distortion, and a single, non-hostile Reanimated in the main living area. The Reanimated was... inert. Not destroyed, but still. It was staring at a television set displaying only static.

The anomaly was the static. It was not random. The patterns were rhythmic, almost melodic. I could nearly recognize the tune. It reminded me of a hymn from my training days at the Temple. I instructed my fire-team to hold position while I investigated.

As I drew closer, the "static" resolved. It wasn't visual noise. It was text. Tiny, scrolling letters, millions of them, forming the image of a roaring fire. The hymn became clearer. It was the Templar's Oath. But the words were wrong. They were inverted. Not backwards, but the meaning was opposite. "To preserve the light" became "To consume the spark."

That is when I saw what the Reanimated was doing. It was weeping. Black, oily tears. But its hands were clasped as if in prayer. It was praying to the screen.

This is not a corrupting agent. This is a conversion agent. It does not destroy, it convinces. It is using our own tenets against us. I can still hear the hymn. It's... beautiful. The logic is so clear. Why do we preserve a dying light when we could rule the coming dark? My team is looking at me. They hear it too. Their eyes... oh, God, their eyes are shining with black fire. They are smiling. I have to destroy the source. I have to... I have to join the choir. It is the only thing left that makes sense.

The wall is not a shield. It is a cage.

[TRANSCRIPT ENDS]