It’s the dead of night in Tirvania, and yet he keeps ascending in the Flipp, higher and higher — simply rising, aimlessly. The city below is now no more than flecks of orange glow. Auran tries to descend a little, just enough to get his bearings - but the flipp won’t obey. Suddenly, the flecks below go out. Darkness envelops him - only the flipp’s monitor and control stick faintly glow, and a pair of moons overhead. His heart pounds faster. A clammy fear crawls beneath his skin.

A deafening crack and rumble erupts — a massive burning fissure splits open the earth below, steaming furiously. The flipp dives toward the rift. Auran clutches the stick, struggling to stop the fall — but it’s no use. 

It’s a dream — the saving realization cuts through the panic. Grasping it with sheer will, like clawing his way out of quicksand, Auran dragged himself back to reality. To wash the feeling away and shake it off — that was all he wanted right then.

His feet thudded rhythmically along the track. He had already descended and was now charging uphill again - yet the unease from the dream refused to let go. Anger at himself only added fuel to his pace. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and in the distance, the sky shimmered with a slow river of scattered flipps reflecting the rays of a sun just beginning to rise. The world was waking lazily, stretching itself into the day — all but the reporter, who wasn’t running so much as fleeing, keeping strictly to the athletic lane. 

As he reached the second tier of the spiral, his comm burst to life — Maush was calling at full volume. That had never happened before. Auran answered immediately.

— Aur! Kailab just got slammed — twelve points! It’s hell down there! I can’t reach my family! All public kayaks are locked down by police and aidmen! Can you lend me yours?

— Of course, bro! I’m with you. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes. Will you be ready?

— Absolutely! I’ll be waiting!

Half an hour later, Auran touched down near friend’s home. Maush — tall and lean, with a tired face and observant eyes — was already waiting. The moment the door opened wide enough, he stepped inside.

The multi-seat kayak — a heavy, reliable craft of metal, designed for long-range travel at sonic speed — jolted as it rose, and the air outside rang with tension.

The floor quivered beneath their feet; the straps bit lightly into their shoulders. Maush clung to the rail as if it were his last hold.

Auran switched on the news. The screens flickered with scenes of destruction: aidmen in protective suits pulling people from the wreckage, clearing the ruins; a reporter speaking live — and then the signal dropped. The kayak had reached sonic speed.

For a brief moment, the cabin went muffled and still, the low hum of the engine the only thread holding them to this world.

According to the locator, they were already halfway through their route when suddenly a wave of green-orange light came toward them. It passed straight through in a split second, as if ripping the air from their lungs — their heads reeled. For a moment, Auran saw a bright white disc flash above Maush’s head. Maush, in turn, stared back at him.

— That happened to me too? Auran asked.

— Yes! And to me? his friend replied, startled. What was that?

— That happened to me too? Auran asked.

— Yes! And to me? his friend replied, startled. What was that?

Auran shrugged.

— No clue.

— Weird sensation, he said after a pause.

Maush nodded. He sat still, forgetting to breathe, fists clenched, eyes squeezed shut now and then.

Auran turned to him, watching — waiting to see if the disc would return. It didn’t. But the sticky shadow of the dream was already creeping into reality. He shook his head and forced his eyes back to the instruments: here, at least, everything was clear, everything under control — unlike that nameless thing that had just awakened his fear.