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The world had always been loud. Cars rushing past in crowded cities, waves crashing against coasts, endless chatter of people moving through their small lives. Yet lately, in the spaces between that noise, something else had begun to speak.
In India, a farmer rose early to check his fields. The summer sun should have baked the soil dry, but when he bent to touch the stalks of wheat, a cold shock ran up his fingers. Frost. He blinked once, twice, rubbed his eyes. The frost vanished like it had never been there. He whispered a prayer and told himself he was tired.
In Japan, a fisherman leaned over his boat in the quiet dawn. Beneath the waves, the water glowed faintly red, as though embers burned at the bottom of the sea. The glow pulsed once, twice, before fading. His hands shook as he pulled his net back, muttering to himself, "Not real. Not real."
In Switzerland, seismic readings baffled scientists. Earthquakes erupted with violent spikes on monitors, but in reality, the ground barely trembled. "It's like the earth wants to move but something is holding it back," one muttered. The data made no sense. They double-checked. Triple-checked. Still, the lines danced wrong.
And in Brazil, a little girl returned from school claiming she had seen a woman made of snow standing by the road. "She smiled at me," the child said. Her parents laughed, shaking their heads at her imagination. But when they tucked her in that night, her shoes were still wet with melting ice.
Headlines trickled into newspapers, quiet and small: Unusual Weather Phenomena in Asia. Strange Seismic Activity Baffles Experts. Fishermen Report Underwater 'Fire.'
Nobody paid them much attention. Not yet.
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In Greece, an old woman on her porch muttered, "The gods are stirring." She said it to no one, her eyes far away, staring at the horizon.
In Tibet, a monk spoke only to the mountains: "The veil between realms is thinning."
People dismissed them as superstitious. Too many fairy tales, too many old tongues weaving stories. Yet whispers spread in markets, temples, and forums online.
Some laughed. Others stayed awake at night.
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Sera had never been a dreamer. Or at least, not the kind who remembered. Sleep was usually black, empty, something she drifted through and escaped from. But lately… lately it had changed.
She dreamed of fire.
It wasn't ordinary fire—the kind that ate through paper or wood. This was fire that looked alive, breathing, glowing like veins across a dark sky. And within it, always, a silhouette. A man's form. Standing tall, unbending, as if the flames bowed to him.
Each time, Sera woke with her skin hot and her wrist burning. She would sit up in the dark, clutching the mark her parents had told her stories about when she was young: the small, pale snowflake etched into her flesh.
"Just a dream," she would whisper. But her voice shook.
On the third night, when the fire silhouette lifted his head, she swore she saw his eyes. Brown, burning like the center of a star. And then she woke with tears on her face, though she couldn't say why.
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By then, the news was impossible to ignore.
Animals were migrating in strange circles, as if lost. Birds gathered by the thousands in silent flocks. Planes reported signal failures mid-flight. Magnetic compasses spun wildly before snapping back into place.
On television, a scientist with tired eyes tried to explain: "Something is disrupting the natural order. But we don't know what. Weather, magnetism, seismic activity—they're all being… disturbed."
The anchor pressed for answers, but none came.
Online, conspiracy theories multiplied. Some blamed aliens. Others whispered about forgotten gods. Someone on a forum wrote, "The veil is breaking. My grandmother told me this story once…"
The post got buried, but it sat in Sera's mind.
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It happened on an ordinary evening.
The world was moving as it always did—cars on highways, children playing in parks, lovers arguing on city streets. Then, without warning, the sky shifted.
Across continents, people froze and looked up.
There, stretched wide above them, was a thin line of light—like glass cracking under pressure. The sound was faint but undeniable, like the shatter of a mirror across the heavens.
It lasted only seconds. A blinding flash, then gone.
But it had been real. Everyone saw it.
Videos flooded the internet within minutes. Hashtags trended: #SkyCrack, #EndOfWorld, #GodsReturn. Panic rippled like waves.
And on her balcony, Sera stood barefoot, clutching her wrist. The snowflake mark glowed faintly under her skin, hot enough to sting. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her throat dry.
She whispered into the night, to no one but herself—
"The story… it's starting."