The sky breaks

The room was dim, its walls adorned with moving tapestries—strands of light cascading across their surfaces, as if history itself was woven into them. A long, obsidian table stretched across the center, polished to such precision that it reflected the faces of those seated around it. They were not just executives. They were architects of power, custodians of reality.

No one outside these walls knew they existed. Governments bowed to them. Markets rose and fell at their command. Wars ignited and ended on their whims. And now, they sat in absolute silence, watching a holographic projection of an incoming wrecked alien vessel, tumbling toward Earth's upper atmosphere.

It was a discovery that could change everything. A breakthrough in technology, an opportunity to push humanity forward by centuries—if handled correctly. If contained.

A man at the head of the table, face unreadable, leaned forward. His voice, smooth and measured, held the weight of centuries.

"Trajectory confirms impact within thirty-six hours. Possible landing zones: Pacific Ocean, Siberian Tundra, or—" He swiped a hand across the air, shifting data streams. "Western Europe."

A pause.

Then, from the far side of the table, a woman—ageless, yet carrying an elegance that defied time—tilted her head, fingers tapping idly on the surface before her. When she spoke, there was no urgency in her voice. No concern. Just calculated precision.

"Containment protocols?"

A man beside her responded without missing a beat.

"Media obfuscation is already in place. Surveillance blackout in potential impact zones. Military movements staged under routine exercises. Civilians won't suspect anything until it's over."

Another figure, one with a sharper tone, interjected.

"And if recovery is impossible?"

The man at the head of the table didn't even blink.

"Then we erase it."

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

The woman across from him narrowed her eyes, shifting slightly in her chair. She had been among them for centuries—had seen empires rise and collapse at their hands. She understood their methods. But this? This was recklessness.

She exhaled slowly.

"You want to destroy an artifact of unknown origin? Do you realize the magnitude of what you're suggesting?"

The head of the table remained unshaken.

"We are not here to marvel at cosmic wonders. We are here to maintain order."

"At what cost?" she pressed.

Another voice, deeper, colder, answered.

"The same cost as always. Casualties, restructuring, realignment of narratives."

To them, this wasn't an extinction-level event. It was simply another calculation.

A digital projection flickered to life in the center of the table, breaking the crisis down into numbers.

Projected Human Casualties: 6.8 Million

Projected Economic Losses: 19.7 Trillion

Projected Recovery Timeline: 12-15 years

But then, another column appeared.

Projected Profit: 

46.2 Trillion

Insurance payouts would be astronomical.

Reconstruction contracts would flood in.

Corporate real estate would skyrocket in value.

Military funding would double overnight.

Destruction wasn't a risk. It was an investment.

The woman stared at the figures in cold disbelief. It was always the same. War, crisis, catastrophe—they weren't failures. They were markets.

She let out a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it.

"Do you even hear yourselves?"

The man at the head of the table leaned back slightly. "You're looking at this emotionally."

"And you aren't looking at it at all," she countered. "We could extract the vessel. Dissect its technology. We are standing on the precipice of something far greater than wealth, and your first instinct is to obliterate it?"

A man to her right, one of the older ones, finally spoke. His voice carried the weight of someone who had made these decisions for eons.

"You assume that we haven't already made contact."

Her expression froze.

He continued.

"You assume that this is our first encounter."

The weight of those words settled over her like a lead curtain.

She had been with them for centuries, and yet there were still things she wasn't meant to know.

Her mind raced. If they had already made contact, then what was this? A rogue element? A failed experiment? A warning?

She adjusted her posture. "Then what is this ship?"

The head of the table finally cracked a smile. It wasn't one of amusement.

"A loose thread. One that must be clipped."

The debate continued, but she knew it didn't matter. The vote was a formality. These decisions weren't made in the moment. They had been decided long before they ever sat at this table.

In the end, as expected, the verdict was unanimous.

The wreckage would be obliterated upon entry. Any surviving remnants would be contained and classified. The event would be framed as a meteor impact, a natural disaster—something digestible for the public.

And just like that, history would remain unchanged. A discovery that could alter the course of humanity would simply… cease to exist.

As they adjourned, the woman stood last, staring at the glowing data one more time.

She had played her role, as always. She had raised her objections, as expected. And now, she would fall in line.

Because this was the game.

And she had been playing it for far too long to pretend otherwise.

***

The evening air was cool as Jaxon walked home, his pace slow but purposeful. He was in a better mood than he had been in a while. The conversation with Selene had lifted his spirits, offering him a rare sense of connection that he didn't often experience. She had listened, really listened, and for the first time, he felt like someone was seeing beyond the surface of his complicated thoughts.

The possibility that they could explore something deeper, even if it was just in a dream or vision, stirred something within him. Maybe it was just the glimmer of hope he'd been searching for—the chance to have a real connection, not just intellectual but personal too. As he walked, the streets seemed quieter than usual, the world a little more serene. He couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, things were shifting in his life.

But even as he reveled in the lightness, the uncertainty lingered like a shadow. Was this really the calm before something worse? The conversation about the disaster gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside for now. Tonight was about enjoying the small victories. He wasn't going to let his mind drag him into the abyss just yet.

When Jaxon stepped through the door, he was greeted by the familiar hum of domestic life. His mom was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with practiced ease, while his dad sat at the table, going through the evening news on his tablet.

"You're home early," his dad said without looking up. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Jaxon said, smiling faintly as he tossed his bag onto the chair by the door. "Just had a lot to think about."

His mom looked up from her cooking, raising an eyebrow. "About what?"

"Just stuff," Jaxon replied, shrugging. He didn't want to get into it—not yet. He wasn't ready to talk about the disaster, or the visions, or the strange shift in his life. The last thing he needed was to bring that weight to the dinner table.

As they ate, the conversation flowed as usual. His mom joked about his latest school project, and his dad recited some interesting news he'd read about advancements in A.I, as though nothing had changed. And maybe, in a way, nothing had. They were still the same, in their routine, their comfort zones. But for Jaxon, something felt off.

He found himself looking at them, really looking at them, and wondering how much time they had left in their lives before everything changed. What if tomorrow was the day the world started to unravel? He couldn't shake the thought that this might be the last normal dinner they had. It wasn't a dramatic feeling, just a quiet realization that things might not stay this way forever.

His mom caught him staring and smiled warmly. "What's on your mind, Jax?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just... thinking."

They finished their meal, and Jaxon felt the weight of the evening settle in his chest. There was something bittersweet about it—like a chapter closing without him being ready for it to end.

Once the dishes were cleared, Jaxon retreated to his room. His parents offered their usual "goodnight," and he gave a half-hearted wave, not feeling particularly ready for sleep but also not ready to stay in the realm of his parents' world for long.

He powered up his brain implant, his connection to the virtual world. The chatroom lit up in his mind's eye as he entered. There were the usual suspects—Grim23, Chippernode, and a few others—engaged in their never-ending stream of conversations about the nature of reality, conspiracies, and the impending collapse they all seemed to sense.

But tonight, Jaxon wasn't looking for answers from them. He was simply tired, in a way that felt deeper than physical exhaustion. Maybe it was the weight of the conversation with Selene that had left an emotional mark. Maybe it was the tension about the disaster that was gnawing at him. Maybe it was the looming sense that something big was coming, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.

As he scrolled through the messages, a familiar ping alerted him to a private message.

"How's your night going?" It was Selene.

A slight smile tugged at his lips as he typed back, "Better than expected."

She responded almost immediately: "Glad to hear it. I hope you're not overthinking things too much."

He paused before replying, knowing she wouldn't understand the full depth of what was weighing on him. "Trying not to. It's hard sometimes."

Her next message came quickly: "Yeah, I get that."

There was something comforting in that. In that simple, unspoken understanding. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the words hang in the air between them.

Jaxon had hardly noticed when the exhaustion from the day fully caught up with him. The conversation with Selene, the stray thoughts that lingered about what he had learned from Chippernode—it all faded as he slipped into sleep, seeking the quiet comfort of a night's rest. Yet, as soon as his eyes shut, the world around him began to shift.

His room disappeared, and the dream began like any other—familiar, yet off. It wasn't the first time Jaxon had seen visions that didn't belong to him, but tonight felt different. The edges of his dream were blurry, the details flickering in and out of focus, like a broken television screen trying to settle into clarity. The sensations were so vivid, too real, and the familiar weight of dread began to creep in.

***

Jaxon stood on the edge of a crumbling city, an overwhelming sense of chaos radiating from every cracked building, every burning street. It felt like the world was falling apart around him, as if the very fabric of reality had been ripped open. The sky was bruised with swirling clouds, dark and foreboding. Something was coming, and it was big. Too big.

An explosion of light broke through the clouds, followed by a deafening roar. He looked up to see the unmistakable silhouette of an alien ship descending, its massive form cutting through the atmosphere with terrifying precision. The city trembled beneath him, and debris rained down, crashing into the streets, causing even more destruction.

Jaxon froze, his heart pounding, as people screamed and ran. Their faces were etched with terror. He couldn't move—couldn't speak—stuck in a nightmare that felt so real, so tangible. The ground shook violently beneath him as fires erupted in the distance, setting buildings ablaze. The air was thick with smoke, and the stench of burning metal filled his nostrils.

In the middle of the chaos, Jaxon spotted a familiar face. It was Selene. She was standing in the middle of the street, fear flashing in her eyes, calling his name.

"Jaxon!" Her voice was frantic, desperate. "Jaxon, please—"

He tried to move toward her, but something kept him locked in place. The world was spinning, and the ground cracked beneath him, sending tremors through his body. The distant thud of an explosion jolted him out of his stupor, and just as he took a step forward, the force of something huge slammed into the ground nearby, knocking him off his feet.

Everything went black.

Jaxon awoke with a sharp gasp, his body drenched in sweat. He sat up in his bed, his heart racing in his chest. For a moment, he just sat there, trying to make sense of the nightmare. It felt so real, so terrifying. But it had to be just a dream, right?

His breathing steadied, and he tried to shake off the remnants of the vision. But the feeling wouldn't go away. It lingered—dread seeping into his bones, a lingering sense of urgency, as though the nightmare wasn't just some random sequence of his subconscious. It felt... important. Real, in a way that dreams rarely did.

And then it hit him—Selene. Her face, her voice, echoing through his mind. She had been there, in the dream, in the middle of the destruction. Had it been a warning? A sign that something was coming?

Jaxon couldn't explain it, but the pieces clicked into place. His mind, clouded by the fragments of the dream, started racing again, piecing together what little he could remember. The alien ship, the destruction, the fire, and Selene. She had been a part of it, somehow.

But how? And why?

The dream had felt like an average bad dream—nothing overly supernatural or bizarre, just chaotic and unsettling. But he couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than just a random nightmare. He needed answers. And he needed to talk to Selene.

Earlier, Selene had mentioned her own dream—one that had haunted her, one where she had been in the midst of a similar disaster, trying to escape from something she couldn't fully understand. Jaxon had brushed it off at the time, but now, as he sat on the edge of his bed, he wondered if their dreams were connected. Maybe this wasn't just a coincidence.

Selene's face appeared in his mind again—her panic, her fear, the way she had called his name. Was it possible that their experiences, their dreams, were part of the same larger picture?

Jaxon didn't know, but one thing was clear: something was coming. Something that neither he nor Selene could avoid. And he had to figure out what it was, before it was too late.

Jaxon had felt it long before the disaster came crashing down on him. There had been no words, no warning, just a creeping sensation that clawed at the edges of his consciousness. He had felt it when he first woke up that morning, as though the very air around him was charged with a kind of restless energy. As he went through his day, the feeling hadn't faded; it only grew stronger, a warning he couldn't quite interpret. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and he couldn't shake the sense that the world was on the brink of something catastrophic.

It was when he left his house and started his walk to meet Selene that it intensified. Each step he took felt heavier, like the earth itself was growing more unstable beneath him. His thoughts, still spinning from his conversation with Chippernode, wandered back to the strange visions he'd experienced the night before. He'd dreamed of Selene, of the disaster, but something was different now. It was more than just a dream—it felt like a premonition, a vivid glimpse into a reality that was coming to life in front of him.

His mind replayed every detail of that dream, the fire, the explosions, the crumbling buildings—all of it. But there was more. It was as if he had seen this before. Hadn't he run through the exact same streets? Hadn't he stumbled upon the same scene? His feet moved almost on autopilot as he walked through the now-familiar neighborhood, heading to the place where Selene always met him. But there was no comfort in the routine now. His skin prickled, the sense of urgency building with every step. He couldn't explain it, but he knew, deep down, that something had changed. The world wasn't the same anymore.

Then, just as he reached the corner where he usually met her, it happened.

There was a loud, shuddering tremor that shook the ground beneath his feet. Jaxon froze mid-step, his heart skipping a beat. The sound of something tearing through the air reached his ears, a horrible screeching noise that made his blood run cold. He turned, instinctively scanning the skyline, and there it was. In the distance, something massive was descending from the sky—crashing, falling, and ripping through the clouds like a twisted shadow of impending doom.