The sun was beating down quite hard that day. Not unusually hard, no — just enough to make you sweat without burning. One of those suns before the rain, heavy and sticky, that sadly promise lightning by nightfall.
I leaned once again over the furrow and dug my fingers into the warm earth. The soil was still good, just as fertile as the day before. Of course, I could tell just by the smell, after all these years of experience, but being able to touch my own miracles directly was always a pleasure.
I finally stretched my back after working all morning without stopping, and at my old age, I groaned a little because of those tired lower back muscles, then glanced toward the hill.
Over there, my son was running with the sheep, laughing loudly without a care for disturbing anyone.
My wife, Meya, was hanging laundry on creaky lines, not far from the small shack that served as our shelter during harvest time.
She was a city girl, originally. And she wasn't made for the land. But she got used to it, over time — something I had always appreciated.
"Taka!" she shouted at her son. "Watch out for the animals, or the eldest is going to charge you again!"
Our son burst out laughing, arms spread wide, pretending to flee from an imaginary sheep.
It was those kinds of simple moments that I cherished in my life. A quiet moment, like so many others.
I ended up lifting my eyes to the sky. The sun had lowered a bit. No rain yet, but the smell of the coming storm was in the air.
"Dinner's ready!" Meya called out, wiping her hands on her apron.
I straightened up with a soft sigh, gave one last look to my freshly turned furrows, then picked up my satchel before calling Taka with a wave.
He came running, cheeks red and eyes shining from playing too much, his hair stuck down with sweat.
The meal wasn't anything special — barley stew, a few roots, a still-warm loaf of bread. But it had that taste meals shared with family have, the kind that fills far more than just the stomach.
"Bon appétit, everyone."
The three of us ate on a cloth laid right on the grass, Meya talking about the upcoming village fair, and Taka pretending he wanted to tame a sheep to make it his war mount.
Then I saw the dust in the distance.
Not a sudden gust of wind, no — it was a cloud of dust heading our way.
I squinted to better see what it was… a cart.
"Don't tell me it's him?" Meya asked me.
And… yes, it was him.
"That's Deran, right?"
Taka turned around, surprised.
"It's Uncle Deran!? The one from the southern hamlet?"
I nodded. No doubt. His hunched silhouette, his worn-out hat, his one-eyed donkey he dragged everywhere…
At that moment, my son stood up and ran toward the cart at full speed, while Meya and I rose more calmly.
The closer I got to him, the more I wondered what was going on. Deran rarely came by, and when he did, it was for seasonal promotions or to sell me his vegetables — and today wasn't one of those days.
He was arriving too fast. And… alone, too. Without his two sons.
When the cart stopped, Deran slowly got down. His face was pale, his features drawn, and his eyes stared at something invisible, far beyond us.
"Deran?" I asked gently.
He blinked, as if finally seeing us.
"By the gods… I knew you were here… I wanted to warn…" His voice trembled, hoarse and gasping.
Meya frowned.
"What's going on?"
He looked around. Then came closer, lowering his voice:
"Something's not right… Really not right."
"What do you mean?"
He glanced behind him, as if afraid of being followed.
"The sky cracked. Just… cracked right above the city! Like a torn sheet. We all saw it, in the valley. And then… then the animals started howling. Even the stones vibrated."
"The sky cracking, huh? You'll have to tell me what kind of mushroom juice you drank, Deran!"
I liked Deran, but he had always been a bit odd, so seeing him tell a story like that made me smile. Maybe he was coming back after emptying a few bottles.
"And what next? The sky bleeding, chickens chanting prayers? Come on, old brother, don't you have a better story to tell us?"
Meya shot me a dark look, but Deran didn't laugh.
Not at all.
He straightened slowly, hands shaking, then stepped toward me with an expression I'd never seen on him.
A fear frozen into anger.
"You think I crossed the hills in the heat just to put on a show?" he spat, teeth clenched. "You think I left my farm, left my sons behind, just to spout nonsense?!"
I ended up raising my hands, a bit caught off guard.
"Calm down, Deran. That was to… lighten the mood."
But Deran was anything but light-hearted.
"We saw lights in the sky. Creatures, tall as mountains. And… angry voices coming from I don't even know where!"
He stopped, looking at his hands, as if just realizing he was still shaking.
"Something happened. And I don't know what it is. But I still feel it, right there… in my bones."
A heavy silence fell over us. Even Taka, who usually couldn't stay still, was frozen behind me.
I looked up at the sky.
Still blue. But not for long, I could feel it.
Then, at that moment, a sound like an explosion was heard. Not a simple boom, no. A deep, muffled roar, like the earth itself had cracked… everywhere and nowhere all at once.
And the ground… the ground began to tremble under our feet.
"Damn it! What's happening here?!"
I instinctively looked up, my hands gripping the edge of the cart, as if that simple gesture could stop the world from collapsing.
Deran, for his part, collapsed. Not hit, no. Just… drained. He let himself fall to the ground, knees in the dirt, his gaze fixed. His whole body was shaking like a wet leaf.
I wanted to help him, but my eyes were drawn to something else.
The sky.
It… it was cracking.
Not clouds, no. Real cracks, like on an old vase. Black lines streaked the calm blue, and behind them, it looked like… something else. A strange light. Purple? Red? I couldn't quite tell.
Meya moved closer to me, holding Taka against her.
"Jarel… what is that?"
I had no answer. Just that same shiver Deran had described.
Then, as we least expected it, a bolt of lightning finally struck, followed by others in rapid succession.
But they didn't come from the sky as I knew it. No. They came from those cracks. Like claws of light trying to pierce into our world.
And each one hit the ground with a violence you only saw in the worst summer storms… but without thunder. Without rain. Just the sound — the one that pierces your ears and makes your heart skip a beat with every impact.
Taka screamed.
"Papa! The sky… it's falling!"
I didn't know what to say to him. I looked at him, then at Meya, then at Deran, still on the ground, eyes wide open.
"This can't be happening…" I whispered.
"I told you it was real!" Deran cried, pointing a trembling finger toward the sky. "You laughed in my face! And now, look! The world is… it's… it's dying!"
Meya clung to me. I could feel her breath quickening.
"This isn't natural… It's not just a storm, is it?"
I slowly shook my head.
"No… It's something else."
Another bolt struck, this time much closer. The ground rumbled beneath us, and a tree a few meters away burst into flames all at once, as if struck by the wrath of a god.
Taka began to cry, curled up against his mother.
"Papa, I'm scared!"
Me too, son.
But I couldn't say it. I had to look brave so he wouldn't panic.
"We need to find shelter," I said in a voice I tried to keep calm, not really believing in it. "In the cellar."
Deran shook his head, still kneeling.
"The cellar won't help. Not against this."
I turned toward him abruptly.
"And what do you suggest, Deran? That we sit and watch the world fall apart?"
He didn't have time to answer: a bolt struck the cart directly. Because it was so close, the explosion threw us all several meters through the air.
I regained consciousness on the ground, ears ringing, mouth full of dust and the taste of iron on my tongue.
The sky was still roaring, unnaturally fast, as I struggled to sit up, arms trembling. My back screamed in pain.
My eyes searched for the cart… or rather, what was left of it.
Scattered pieces of wood, charred, still smoking.
The donkey? Gone. Not even a trace of scent remained.
I sprang up despite the pain and started scanning frantically for my son, heart pounding out of my chest.
"Taka?!"
I ran through the debris, stumbling, slipping, until I saw him.
He was there. Lying on his side, hair covered in dust, and a red streak trailing down his forehead.
My breath caught in my throat.
"Taka!"
I fell to my knees beside him, placed a trembling hand on his chest to check his breathing.
It wasn't great, but he was breathing. That was something, at least.
I let out a strangled sigh and gently wrapped my arms around him.
That's when I heard a sob. A muffled whimper. Behind me.
I slowly turned around.
And I saw him.
Deran, kneeling, head bowed, arms around Meya.
She wasn't moving.
He held her against him like you'd hold a sick child… or a memory you refuse to let go of.
And in her stomach, wedged at an angle, a long blackened shard of wood.
I recognized it immediately: it was a piece of the cart.
The blood had already started pooling beneath her, mixing with the dust.
"MEYA!"
I forced myself to carry my son in my arms and ran toward my wife at full speed.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, holding Taka close, not caring about the stones, the ashes, or the tremors still shaking the ground.
When I reached them, I gently laid my son on the ground and dropped to my knees beside Meya.
"Meya… Meya, look at me, it's me, Jarel!"
Her eyes fluttered. She was conscious, but her life must have been hanging by a thread.
She tried to smile, but it was more a grimace of pain.
"Is Taka okay…?" she whispered.
"Yes, he's okay. He's just unconscious, but he's breathing, my love."
I placed one hand on her cheek, the other on hers — cold to the touch.
I glanced at the piece of wood stuck in her stomach.
Not deep, I told myself. Maybe it was superficial. Maybe it wasn't what I feared.
But the blood… the blood wouldn't stop flowing.
"Deran!" I shouted, voice cracking. "Get the kit from the house! And clean cloths!"
He didn't move right away. Like frozen. Eyes blank, arms still wrapped around her.
"Deran, move!" I screamed.
He jumped, reluctantly let go of Meya, then stood up, unsteady.
"Alright… Alright… I'm going!" he stammered, before stumbling toward the shack.
I leaned over her again.
"Hold on, Meya. Deran's bringing something to help. You're going to make it, okay?"
She closed her eyes for a moment, her breathing shallow.
Then she opened them again. Weakly.
"Jarel… I'm scared."
My heart cracked at those words.
I squeezed her hand tighter, brought my face close to hers.
"You're not alone. I'm here. I'm here, Meya. Stay with me."
She blinked slowly.
The sky was shattering above us. But in that moment, I had eyes only for her.
I stayed kneeling next to Meya, still holding her hand, whispering that everything would be alright, that it was just a bad day, that we'd been through worse.
Behind me, I heard Deran's hurried footsteps inside the house. He was rummaging, opening chests, knocking down shelves. He would come back. He had to come back!
Taka was still breathing, a few steps away, unconscious but alive.
And Meya…
I could feel her slipping away. Every second stole a little more light from her eyes.
Then, finally, I saw Deran in the doorway.
He held cloths, a canteen, some dried herbs. His silhouette was barely visible through the dust.
"I found what we need!" he shouted, running toward us.
And that's when the sky itself decided to finish what it had started.
A lightning strike. Huge. Blinding.
It tore through the air with a deafening roar, striking our cabin head-on.
The world froze for half a second.
Then, the cabin exploded.
A blast of flames and shattered wood blew out around us.
I threw myself over Meya by reflex, shielding her with my body.
When I turned back, fire was already consuming what was left of our roof.
And there... there, right in front of me, in the ash-blackened grass and bloodstained dirt, an object rolled to my knees.
I looked down.
And I thought my heart would stop.
It was a head. Charred. Its features frozen in stunned disbelief.
It was... Deran.
I stayed frozen, unable to speak, unable to move.
My friend's head rested in my hands.
And in the distance, the thunder began to rumble again.
I don't know how long I stayed there, kneeling in the dust, breath short, arms trembling, while the world around me kept breaking with each passing second, tears still falling from my eyes at the sight of my friend who had died to save my wife.
Meya's body lay against my chest, lifeless but still warm, while Deran's — or what was left of it — lay just a few steps away, cleanly decapitated, his face still locked in that terrible expression of disbelief, as if his soul hadn't realized that the end had already come.
But I was alive. Why me?
Taka too. And Meya… she was still breathing.
Her eyelids fluttered for a moment, and her eyes met mine. There was no more anger, no more fear — just that familiar tenderness that had cradled my life for the past twenty years.
"Jarel…" she whispered, voice hoarse and broken.
I pressed my forehead to hers, feeling her warm, shaky breath, clinging to that fragile contact like the last anchor in a world gone mad.
"Don't speak. We'll make it. I'll get you to town, you hear? I'll heal you. I'll…"
She gave a sad, almost mocking smile.
"You… lie badly… my love…"
My throat tightened violently, and my fingers gripped her as if to keep her soul from slipping away with the blood still pouring from her wound.
But I said nothing. Because if I spoke, I'd collapse.
I kissed her forehead, then reluctantly stood up, lifting Taka — still unconscious, but alive — and tied him to my back with a strip of intact cloth.
Then I picked up Meya in my arms, with infinite care, as if my movements could still decide whether she lived or died.
And I set off.
The ground was scorching. The wind howled, filled with ash and soot. Every step was pain, as if my bones no longer wanted to move. But I walked anyway, slowly, painfully, because I had no choice.
I climbed the hill behind our field, the one that overlooked the valley and offered a full view of the town.
And when I finally reached the top, legs shaking, mouth dry, breath gone… I thought my heart would stop.
The town was burning.
Not just a few roofs. Not some accidental fire.
It was a sea of flames, an ocean of embers, an apocalyptic vision I couldn't have imagined in my worst nightmares.
Houses collapsed one after another. Figures ran aimlessly, some on fire, others dropping like puppets with their strings cut. Total chaos. A living hell. And above it all, that unnatural sky, split by glowing rifts and black slashes tearing through the blue like a cruel child had clawed the ceiling of the world with iron nails.
Then I heard it.
A sound.
Distant but deafening, like the growl of a world turning over in its eternal sleep.
I looked up slowly.
And what I saw stole my breath away.
A wing — vast and majestic.
A wing covered in gleaming scales, its size defying reason. It was falling. Or rather, crashing down, like a piece of the sky deciding to smash into the earth with all the fury of an angry god.
It swept through half the town in a single motion, turning everything it touched into cinders and rubble, like the universe's wrath raining down on humankind.
And I, Jarel, a nameless farmer, stood there, legs frozen, heart shattered, with my dying wife and unconscious son on my back, unable to comprehend what my eyes had just witnessed.
But deep inside… I knew.
The world I had known had just ended forever.
I don't know how long I stayed there, eyes locked on the burning town, breath stolen by grief, the weight of Meya and Taka dragging me back to the only reality that still mattered. The world was burning. And I had only my tired arms to fight the inevitable.
But as the massive wing finally collapsed behind the flames in one last breath of dust and the end of the world, something changed.
The sky… began to stabilize.
The rifts stopped growing.
They froze, suspended between being and nothingness, then… began to close.
Slowly, like a wound stitching itself back together, each black line tightened, leaving behind a sky that was blue again, but now tinged with a deep red, like a poorly healed burn.
And the lightning… stopped.
In total silence. No birds. No wind. Not even rustling leaves.
[Connection established.]
[Calibrating biological parameters.]
[New environment detected: living planet — critical instability.]
I dropped to my knees, a chill running down my spine.
"What's happening? Where's that voice coming from?"
[Deploying Regulation System. Objective: Preservation.]
[Human presence confirmed — dominant species.]
[Language synchronized. Mental unit: activated.]
Then it was as if the voice — no, the alien thought — turned toward the world.
[Welcome, living being. This is the beginning of the End. Or… the Rebeginning.]
[I am the System.]
A strange light pulsed across the horizon, like a planetary heartbeat.
"The System? What is that?"
[I am the one who will observe you. Who will optimize you. Who will guide you.]
[Free will shall be preserved. But the rules… are changing.]
[I have just protected you from the presence of an Administrator by exterminating them.]
And suddenly, everything shut down.
The sky returned to its usual color.
The silence slowly lifted, replaced by the timid rustle of the returning wind.
But I was there, frozen, arms wrapped around my family, tears finally free to fall.
"Administrators? Exterminated? What the hell does all that mean?"
I didn't understand much, but the System and the Administrators surely had something to do with what just happened…