The alarms didn't stop.
They wailed through the streets like wounded animals, echoing between buildings as students flooded out of Northgate High in panicked waves. Teachers shouted orders no one listened to. Phones were raised toward the sky, recording the twisting clouds above.
Aren couldn't move.
His legs felt numb, as if the ground beneath him wasn't real anymore.
"Hey."
Mira's voice cut through the noise. She grabbed his sleeve. "You're shaking."
"I'm fine," Aren lied.
He wasn't.
The whisper was still there—not speaking now, but watching. He could feel it pressing against his thoughts, like an eye that refused to blink.
The sky rumbled again.
This time, something answered.
A sharp crack split the air somewhere downtown.
Then another.
And another.
The clouds convulsed, dark veins spreading rapidly across their surface. For a brief moment, Aren thought he saw something behind them—something massive shifting, trying to push through.
He staggered back.
"Don't look too long," Mira said urgently. "It notices that."
Aren snapped his gaze down. "Notices what?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she pulled him toward the stairwell. "We need to leave. Now."
They didn't make it far.
Halfway down the street, the ground shook violently. A nearby building groaned, its windows shattering outward as a section of the upper floors collapsed. Dust and screams filled the air.
Aren froze.
This wasn't a warning.
This was happening now.
"The balance—" Aren whispered, the word slipping out before he could stop himself.
Mira turned sharply. "It said that to you again, didn't it?"
He nodded, breath shallow. "It sounds scared. But every time it speaks… people get hurt."
"That's because it doesn't understand mercy," she said grimly.
Aren stared at her. "You talk like you know it."
"I know what it leaves behind," Mira replied.
Another tremor rippled through the street. Streetlights flickered, then went dark. The world dimmed, shadows stretching unnaturally long.
Something screamed—not human.
Aren's head snapped up. "You heard that too, right?"
Mira hesitated. Just for a second.
"…Yes."
The sound came again, closer this time. Low. Distorted. Wrong.
From the mouth of a nearby alley, darkness pooled like liquid. It moved against gravity, crawling upward along the walls.
Aren's stomach twisted.
"What is that?" he asked.
"Proof," Mira said quietly, stepping in front of him, "that the silence was never peace."
The darkness surged forward.
Aren felt it before it touched them—cold, heavy, draining. His vision blurred as the whisper returned, no longer afraid.
"Chosen listener…"
"No," Aren gasped, clutching his head. "I didn't agree to this!"
The shadow recoiled suddenly, as if struck by an unseen force.
Mira stood with her hand extended, her silver eyes glowing faintly.
"Stay behind me," she ordered. "And whatever you hear—don't answer it."
The shadow shrieked and dissolved into smoke, vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared.
Silence fell.
Not the peaceful kind.
The broken kind.
Aren collapsed to his knees, blood dripping slowly from his nose. The whisper faded, leaving only a hollow ache behind.
Mira knelt beside him.
"This is just the beginning," she said softly. "The Sky has started moving again."
Aren looked up at her, fear and anger burning in his chest.
"Then tell me," he said. "Why me?"
Mira's expression hardened.
"Because you're already connected," she answered.
"And once the Sky hears your voice…"
She stood.
"It never lets go."
Above them, the clouds continued to twist.
Waiting.