Indigo Eyes
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ATTACHED DOCUMENTS: Pages recovered from a journal in the forests of the Yukon Territory.

JANUARY 7, 19██

I’ve just received word from my superiors regarding my new stationing. I’m to be stationed at the newly formed Fort Tingenek, all the way up in Yukon Territory, in Canada. Apparently, it’s meant to be a little military installation to provide defense for Site 804. It’s a bit of a journey from here in Virginia, but orders are orders. I’ve always found it fun operating in other countries, under the noses of the government. It’s terribly exciting, though sometimes I do fear we’ll be found out. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. This is where I’ve got to go, and the higher-ups know what they’re doing. I’ve got my things packed, and I’m off.

JANUARY 10, 19██

At last, I’m settled in at the fort. It’s not very large, and there’s only about fifty of us on base. We’re a few miles out from the site, just far enough so that we feel totally isolated. I’ll tell you one thing – it’s freezing up here. Human beings were not meant to make the jump from Virginian heat to Canadian frigidity in such a short time. We’re out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded on all sides by towering, snow-laden trees, and the ice is so thick it could stop a bullet. Honestly, we’ve tried shooting at it. The Colonel told us we were acting like children. Maybe, but there’s not much to do in this goddamn freezer. Hopefully the temperature warms up a bit in the morning.

JANUARY 11, 19██

I’ve met some of the locals now, from a nearby Inuit village. The translator indicated that they were not thrilled about our presence in the area, and that they disapproved strongly of our usage of weaponry. I assured them that they were perfectly safe, but nothing seemed to ease their minds. Perhaps they’ll come around to us, in time. In other news, it has only gotten colder since I arrived. I’m afraid to spit for fear that the saliva will crystallize on my tongue. One of the men got severe frostbite last night, his entire leg consumed by the blackness. I worry about my safety in the cold. I was not prepared for such extreme temperatures, although I suppose I should have been.

JANUARY 13, 19██

While training with live ammunition last night, we were interrupted by the panicked cries of the local villagers. When we went to find out what was wrong, they began babbling about “waking the spirit” and “eyes of indigo”. I’ve no idea what they’re talking about, and the Colonel says to ignore them. “The eskimos are a superstitious bunch,” he told us. “You need to chant and throw rose petals to take a piss in those villages.” So we’re resolved to blocking out the obnoxious yelling of the Inuits. Hopefully, they’ll stop bothering us if we don’t acknowledge them.

JANUARY 16, 19██

Our policy of ignoring the Inuits seems to have paid off, as we have not been contacted by them in a few days. We can only hope it persists and we can train in peace. Frankly, I’m not sure why this esoteric stretch of wilderness requires a military base. I’m sure there’s a good reason, but at the moment I’m seriously questioning the judgment of those who set Fort Tingenek up. I haven’t been able to feel my extremities for days, and the ice and snow gets into our weapons and ruins them. This place is a frozen hellhole.

On another note, Site 804 has gone quiet recently. Communications are shot, and we’re a bit concerned. A group of us went out to the Site, but no one answered us. For the time being, the Colonel told us not to worry about it. These secretive, esoteric bastards are probably involved in some foul business that they’d rather not discuss, as is typical. They’ll respond as soon as they can, he said. Of course they will.

JANUARY 17, 19██

Something is going on in these woods, and I wish I knew what. The Colonel sent a few of us out to meet with the villagers, since their disappearance ceased to be convenient and began to be suspicious. We were not prepared for the sight that we beheld in that village. All of the buildings had been burnt to the ground; some of them were still aflame even as we approached. In the streets lay innumerable amounts of dead, slaughtered there on the frigid soil. They looked as though they’d been torn apart by animals, yet upon further inspection, we realized that they had torn each other apart. Some of them clutched handfuls of their neighbors’ flesh, their mouths filled with human meat. It was a horrifying, grisly scene, and I can’t say I’ve ever heard of anything this brutal.

We searched for survivors, but if anyone had lived, they were nowhere to be found. Judging by the state of the bodies, we determined that they had met their ends a few nights ago, shortly after we stopped answering their cries. What form of madness had overtaken this peaceful village? We had no answers. No one did. When we told the Colonel, he said nothing, but his eyes were fearful. We will not be firing live rounds tonight.

JANUARY 18, 19██

At 0200 hours this morning, one of our men came crashing into the barracks from his post, white-faced and breathless. He spoke of a shadowy figure watching him from the bushes, and how he had gone to investigate. Shaking, he recalled the overwhelming odor of death and decay, and how it had frightened him away from the shape. As he had backed away, he caught a glimpse of what the figure was, and fled. He described some sort of “giant zombie”, tall and gaunt, with mottled skin and tight, ragged flesh. This prompted an uproar of laughter, leading the Colonel to interrogate him about where he was keeping his drugs.

That was when we heard that terrible, spine-chilling screaming. Weapons readied, we stormed outside to find a soldier tearing into the stomach of another, ripping at his innards. His mouth was blood-soaked and we noticed that the eviscerated man, still shrieking and clinging to life, was missing much of his face. We aimed at the cannibalistic soldier and demanded that he stand down, and he turned to face us. Those eyes, those godforsaken eyes! Those hollow, deadened indigo eyes! He – it? – bellowed at us, and we opened fire. We cut him down and burned his body, and we buried the disemboweled man. The wind was howling as if it were roaring at us, or perhaps laughing.

No one slept. Today, we were afraid to move, and no man’s hand left his weapon. What is happening? Why?

JANUARY 19, 19██

Two more men died last night, victims of yet another flesh-eating, maddened soldier, again with those unholy eyes. There is no time to grieve, for there may be another death at any moment. I can’t sleep; I can’t bring myself to close my eyes. I keep seeing those indigo eyes, every time I blink. I was lying by the window and I looked outside, and I swear I saw something move by. Something tall and thin to the point of emaciation. I’m trying to convince myself that it was my imagination, but I’m not the only one who has seen it.

There is something out there, and it is stalking us. It is driving us mad. I keep remembering the village and the violence and depravity we witnessed there. I’m afraid that our fate is the same. The villagers wanted us to stop firing, so as not to awaken something. We didn’t listen, and they paid the price. We’re next. The Inuits were never alone in these woods. Something slumbered, biding its time, collecting its strength. Some malicious entity slept out there, in the cold, ice, and snow.

We woke it up.

JANUARY 20, 19██

It came for us.

JANUARY 21, 19██

I don’t have much time. I heard noises in the bushes and I’m going to have to move soon. The fort is gone, razed to the ground, a smoldering ruin. The men ripped at each other like savage beasts, feasting on their own kind. I had to kill so many of my brothers in arms, lost to the madness. I feared I was losing my own grip on sanity. Even now I question the status of my mental health, for who can see so much horror and escape unscathed?

As I ran, fleeing the burning fort before the tall thing could take my mind as well, I saw the Colonel firing into the darkness. I saw a shadow of a colossal, narrow being, and it grabbed him by the skull, dragging him into the blackness. As he disappeared, screaming pleas of help, the stench of rot and corruption permeating the icy air, the thing looked at me. I looked into its lifeless, soulless, godless indigo eyes, and I felt the hatred, the greed and hunger and bloodlust of this creature, intensified a thousand-fold over centuries of existence, feeding and dementing and lurking. I saw its true, primal desires, and the feeling of its unquenchable drive to devour brought me to my knees. Then it was gone, returned to the darkness as my fellow men murdered each other in the snow. I stood, my knees shaking, and I ran, not daring to look back.

I write this now by the side of a huge tree, hidden by a bank of snow, miles from the fort. I dare not move for the Site. It is abundantly clear to me what transpired there. But I cannot rest. I must keep going. It is coming for me. It does not leave survivors. I know that now.

JANUARY 22, 19██

This is a goodbye. The creature has found me. I am in a cave, dark and cold like the rest of this wretched forest, and there is nowhere to run. I hear it moving near the entrance, and I can smell its putrescent stench. I hope someday, however unlikely it may be, that someone will find this journal and learn from our mistakes. The forest must remain undisturbed. There is something that lives among these trees. It is not human. It feeds on the minds and flesh of men, turning them against each other and satisfying its never-ending starvation. It cannot be stopped or killed. Those who would come to this forest – turn back! This is a dead place, an unholy part of the world abandoned by God and left to the demons. You mus

I see the eyes now. The indigo eyes, never blinking, never faltering. It is here.

May God have mercy on my so

Item Recovery Log:
Journal was discovered in a small cave located 21.6 kilometers outside of Site 804. Upon investigation of the diary's contents, Site 804 was immediately condemned. A request to post guards around the perimeter of the area was denied due to the likely loss of life and waste of resources. Journal was not accompanied by a body, and no bodies were located in the ruins of the fort or village, though traces of blood were found. As of now, the area is deemed off-limits to all personnel.

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