WHISPERS ABOVE THE WORLD
The faint hum that lingered in Aaron's head after waking from that strange dream didn't fade easily. It was as if the melody, the voices, and the image of those seven towering figures had stitched themselves into his thoughts.
For a while, he simply lay there in bed, staring at the faint cracks in his ceiling, tracing them like they were constellations. The morning light creeping in through the blinds painted thin gold lines across his desk, over the old alarm clock that was ticking in stubborn defiance of his trance.
The clock read 6:47 AM. He had overslept.
With a grunt, Aaron swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His toes brushed against the cool, worn-out rug his mother had insisted on keeping despite its fraying edges. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to shake off the dream.
"Just a dream," he muttered under his breath.
But his words didn't convince him.
---
The Ordinary World
Aaron's room was small but comfortable, plastered with a mix of faded posters — some of space exploration, others of anime heroes he had grown up watching. On the desk sat his battered laptop, its screen half-detached from years of careless use, and beside it a stack of unfinished homework. A half-empty mug of cold tea sat dangerously close to the edge.
As he dressed for school, his eyes caught the faint silvery scar on his forearm. He didn't remember getting it. It wasn't deep, just a thin, shimmering line, almost too perfect, like it had been carved with precision. The moment his eyes lingered on it, he felt a sharp pulse in his chest, as though his heart skipped a beat.
A knock rattled his door.
"Aaron! Breakfast's ready! And if you're late for school again, you're walking!" came his Aunt's voice.
He chuckled faintly and pulled on his jacket.
Downstairs, the smell of fried eggs and freshly baked bread greeted him. His Aunt stood by the stove, her short hair tied up, wearing the same green apron she'd owned since he was little. She had a knack for multitasking — flipping eggs, stirring tea, and scolding him all at once.
"You're up late," she said without turning around. "Again."
"I was… thinking," Aaron replied, sliding into his seat.
"About what?"
"Nothing important."
It was a lie. But he didn't want to explain a dream about seven cosmic giants to his mother before breakfast.
---
Ripples in the Town
The walk to school was brisk. The streets of Riverstead were as ordinary as ever — bicycles rattling over cobblestone paths, the grocer opening his shop, kids chasing each other past the fountain. Yet Aaron couldn't shake the feeling that something was different today.
It was subtle — too subtle for anyone else to notice.
The air felt heavier, charged, as if holding its breath.
And then there were the birds. Dozens of them, perched silently on rooftops and power lines, all facing in the same direction — east, toward the distant hills.
---
Above the Universe
Far beyond the veil of human perception, the seven watched. But they were not huddled together on Earth — no. They were scattered across the infinite tapestry of creation, each standing as sentinel over their chosen domain.
One stood on the icy plains of a dead moon, watching the slow dance of a shattered planet's debris. Another floated in the blazing heart of a star, its form untouched by the flames. A third knelt in the drifting ruins of an ancient battlefield, where the skeletons of warships as large as continents drifted silently.
And yet… their eyes were all turned toward one small, blue-green planet.
"Earth," murmured the tallest of them, her voice like the ringing of a great bell across eternity. "The axis of the coming storm."
"Why here?" another asked, his form shifting like black smoke under starlight. "A single grain of sand in an endless desert. Why should the currents of fate bend toward it?"
"Because," answered the one with eyes of molten gold, "the seed has been sown."
And far away, in the middle of an unremarkable school day, a boy named Aaron adjusted his backpack, unaware that he was the seed.
---
School Hours
Class was the same blur of chalk dust and monotone lectures as always. Aaron sat near the window, pretending to take notes while watching the clouds roll lazily across the sky. His best friend, Kenny, nudged him.
"You're even more spaced out than usual today," Luke whispered.
"Couldn't sleep," Aaron muttered.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Not a ghost. More like…" Aaron hesitated. "Never mind."
Before Kenny could press him, the teacher's voice cut sharply across the room. "Aaron! If you're done gazing at the heavens, perhaps you could answer the question?"
Aaron blinked. "Uh… sorry, sir. What was the question again?"
A few chuckles rolled through the class.
---
The Signal
By the time school ended, the skies had turned a deep, unusual shade — a blue so rich it looked almost unreal. As Aaron walked home, he passed the old radio shop near the corner of Ashford Street. A static-filled broadcast drifted from an open window.
"…strange electromagnetic fluctuations… unprecedented readings… all pointing toward—"
The rest was drowned out by static.
Aaron's scar pulsed again.
Somewhere far above the Earth, seven ancient beings shifted in anticipation.
The game had begun.