Chapter One – The Night the Sky Broke
The house was quiet—too quiet.
The low drone of the television filled the living room, but it felt more like a presence than a sound. Serena sat curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, watching the screen with one eye and the doorway with the other. The amber glow of the TV painted her features in soft light, turning her into a silhouette of restless attention.
She felt it before she heard it.
The front door opened.
Serena didn't jump. Instead, her lips curved into a knowing grin—the kind that said she'd been waiting.
"Oh—you're back, brother," she called, her voice light, playful, as if nothing in the world could possibly go wrong.
Sam stepped inside, shoes sliding off at the mat with practiced ease. A quiet chuckle escaped him, but something in his chest tightened mischievously the moment the door closed behind him.
"Yeah," he replied, casual enough. The word felt thin.
Serena turned on the couch, kneeling with her back to the TV, a grin stretched wide across her face. "So… did you buy it?"
Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Well… I might have forgotten."
Her reaction was instant. Eyes widened in mock betrayal, cheeks puffed out, arms crossing with theatrical gravity. "Ahh—brother, why?!" She huffed loudly. "I'm not talking to you again."
Sam only laughed. He stepped behind her, pulling her into a brief, protective squeeze before slipping away as she swatted at his side.
"Hey!"
He was already halfway up the stairs, chuckling as he went.
"Hmph."
The pout didn't last long.
Serena turned back toward the coffee table. A small box of chocolates sat there—her favorite. She froze, then slowly smiled. Unwrapping one, she let the sweetness melt on her tongue.
"So you didn't forget," she murmured, shaking her head. "You're just cruel."
Moments later, Sam returned. His black hair was still damp from the shower, water clinging faintly to the strands. He wore a plain white T-shirt and dark shorts, the simplicity doing little to hide the discipline in his build. Tall. Athletic. Controlled.
His eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked once around the room before he sat beside her and placed his phone on the table.
"What are you watching?" he asked.
"Oh! It's a show called Everlasting," Serena said brightly. "It's really interesting. Want to watch with me?"
Instead of waiting for an answer, she rested her head on his lap.
Sam sighed, but his hand moved on its own, fingers sliding through her hair in a slow, absent rhythm.
"No," he said after a moment. "I'll pass."
He didn't push her away.
They sat like that for a while, the quiet stretching comfortably between them.
"Have you eaten?" Sam asked.
Serena tilted her head just enough to meet his eyes. "No. I was waiting for you."
Something flickered in Sam's gaze—gone as quickly as it came.
"Gym ran long today," he said. "I'll make something."
"I'll come with you."
The kitchen filled with familiar sounds soon after. When they sat down to eat, Serena talked endlessly, her thoughts tumbling over one another in an unbroken stream. Sam listened, responding when needed, letting her voice anchor the room.
It was an ordinary evening. Warm. Familiar.
Until the ground trembled.
At first, it felt distant—like a heavy truck passing nearby. Then the floor shuddered. Plates rattled. The table groaned.
Serena froze mid-bite, spoon hovering between mouth and plate.
Sam was already on his feet.
Another tremor hit, stronger this time, and then the sound came—engines roaring through the sky. One plane. Then several. Their thunder merged with the trembling ground, rattling the walls.
The television crackled.
The movie breaking off with a tone that screamed of an emergency.
"Breaking news!" a reporter's voice snapped through the room. "Approximately fifteen minutes ago, four gigantic rifts appeared in the skies above the United States. Behind me is one of them." The camera panned to show a wound in the heavens, crimson and shadow swirling within a rent in the fabric of the sky.
"This phenomenon is not limited to America. Reports confirm seven rifts in China, eight in Russia, and dozens more scattered worldwide. The source remains unknown. For an official response, we now turn to the President."
The image shifted to a man behind a podium, flanked by officials whose faces wore the same mask of practiced calm that did not quite reach the eyes in moments like these. His voice was measured, practiced, but a tremor of fear leaked through the surface.
"My fellow citizens… we are aware of the sudden anomalies that have appeared across the globe. Rest assured, our scientists and military are working swiftly to determine their origins and effects. At this time, we urge everyone to remain calm and stay indoors. Emergency services are being mobilized. This is unprecedented, but I am confident we will overcome."
The calm, polished cadence did little to hide the gnawing uncertainty in his eyes.
Even Serena's earlier brightness dimmed with confusion, her lips pressing into a thin line as she studied the screen, listening but not hearing comprehending.
The silence broke with the sharp trill of Sam's phone. He answered at once.
"Hello?"
"Sam—listen to me." The voice was his mother's, the tremor of panic threaded through the static. "Lock the doors. Don't go outside."
"What? What's going on? Is that… gunfire?" Sam's voice sharpened, shifting from curious to unease with alarming speed.
"Just promise me!" she cried. distortion curling the edges of every word. "Stay inside—don't—"
Her plea was swallowed by a roar—inhuman, animal—far louder than the engines outside. A sound that pushed into Sam's bones and left a cold ache in its wake.
"Hello?! Hello?!" he shouted, voice cracking with a blend of fear and worry. The line went dead.
Sam stared at the black screen, the glow of the static on the TV reflecting in his eyes. No signal. The world on the other side of the glass might as well have vanished.
He turned slowly toward Serena. She hadn't moved, except for the tremble that had deepened the lines around her mouth. Her eyes were still fixed on the flickering, static-bloomed image, as if it could hold her in place.
"Serena?" he asked gently, reaching out a hand to grab her shoulder when she didn't respond.
Slowly, she lifted a trembling hand and pointed at the static-filled screen. Her lips parted, words a whisper, almost a vow to herself more than to him.
"T-that… I just saw…"
The room seemed to close in around them, the sounds of the city beyond the walls muffled by the tremor in the air. The terror in her eyes was real enough to make Sam's blood turn cold, and the first spark of something else—cautious wonder, perhaps, or a dull ache of fate—smoldered somewhere behind his stern, composed façade.
In that quiet aftershock, the world's edges loosened just enough to reveal a future none of them were prepared to face.