___________________________
"And there's no remedy for memory,
Your face is like a melody..."
___________________________
Selene sat alone in the darkened corridor.
The dining table was far behind her now.
The court.
The politics.
The quiet knives behind every fork.
She leaned against the cold marble.
Eyes open.
Unblinking.
___________________________
"It won't leave my head..."
Her mother's voice.
Still there.
Still haunting.
Still promising everything was fine.
But she knew.
It wasn't.
Not anymore.
___________________________
"Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine—"
___________________________
WAAAAAAAARRNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGG
A siren cut through the silence.
Low.
Violent.
Ancient.
It wasn't a drill.
___________________________
Den Haag lit red.
Then — Amsterdam.
Then — Rotterdam.
Then — Brussels.
Antwerp.
Paris.
Normandy.
Madrid.
Gibraltar.
Every city.
Every capital.
Every imperial station —
Screamed.
___________________________
Screens cracked.
Broadcasts jammed.
News anchors blinked off.
Then —
A single image.
—Transmission Override—
Moscow. Kremlin. Cold eyes. Familiar symbols. An old enemy returns.
___________________________
"As the Aetherland Empire has continued to expand over the last fifteen years..."
"...despite diplomacy, restraint, and repeated warnings..."
"...We, the People of the Great Russ Federation..."
"...are ashamed. And offended."
"Thus, we begin the Aggression."
___________________________
The sea exploded.
THOUSANDS of missiles rained upon:
Harbors.
Beachheads.
Naval bases.
Docked carriers.
___________________________
HMS Justice — gone in fire.
Le Marchielle Port — swallowed whole.
Western Fleet Command — severed.
Antwerp Base — drowning.
The Great Russ Submarines surfaced like monsters from folklore.
Behind them —
The Combine Fleet of the North surged —
Already in clash.
Already screaming.
Already dying.
___________________________
In cities where candles were lit for peace —
They turned to flames of warning.
___________________________
"And to those who blamed the innocent name..."
"...of the Healer of the World..."
"...the leader of the Red Cross..."
"...We The People of Russ say to the Aetherland Government was..."
Signal blocked.
Transmission lost.
___________________________
Silence returned.
But not the same kind.
Not peaceful.
But waiting.
For the first retaliation.
For the first counterattack.
___________________________
Selene stood.
She didn't run.
Didn't shout.
Didn't even reach for a communicator.
She walked.
Past the broken lights.
Past the frozen staff.
Past the guards whispering codes.
___________________________
She walked into the war.
Not surprised.
Because her soul had been waiting ten years for this exact sound:
Sirens over sorrow.
___________________________
The March of The Antithesis
___________________________
"A country that won the world war…"
"...but was forgotten by its allies."
___________________________
The Great Russ Federation.
A name cursed behind closed doors.
A name erased from victory speeches.
A nation buried not in defeat —
But in silence.
___________________________
Their preparation did not begin yesterday.
Not last year.
Not last decade.
It began —
Long.
Long.
Ago.
___________________________
When Queen Tatiana Romanov — The People's Queen —
stood before the world.
And blamed The Russ Federation.
For the death of Emperor Eldric Aetherwald.
For betrayal.
For sabotage.
___________________________
That was the spark.
The machinery began to turn.
Steel factories whispered at midnight.
Underground railways trembled beneath frozen rivers.
Engineers — their hands calloused from war — began their quiet labor.
___________________________
Missiles were designed.
Carriers were assembled.
Artillery was lined along the Eastern Front.
Heavy Cavalry prepared their armor.
The Black Sea Fleet drilled in eternal cold.
___________________________
Twenty years of peace?
No.
Twenty years of sharpening knives.
___________________________
Now — they move.
___________________________
The Artillery roared first.
Shells screamed from the Eastern Mountain Lines.
Blanketing the defensive walls of Verlin.
Shattering the Command Post of Eastern Aetherland.
___________________________
Heavy Tanks followed — engines roaring like wolves unstopped by rivers, cities, or concrete.
Steel monsters — grinding across frozen soil.
They didn't just breach the line.
They erased it.
___________________________
And behind them — marching under banners of crimson and frost —
The Infantry.
The Forgotten Soldiers.
The Veterans with no statues.
___________________________
They carried no mercy.
Only memory.
___________________________
Aetherland watched — from marble towers —
Too arrogant to apologize.
Too prideful to compromise.
Too corrupt to heal.
Pretending to be the world's police.
Pretending to be the world's economic haven.
All while forgetting —
The world belongs to anyone who fights for it.
___________________________
Now — The Great Russ Federation marches.
Not as invaders.
Not as conquerors.
But as the Antithesis.
The walking rejection of Empire.
The brutal answer to Imperial lies.
___________________________
After twenty years of fragile peace —
The War has no longer begun.
It has returned.
___________________________
November 1971 - 08.30 PM
And this time...
It will not stop until history is rewritten in fire.