In a world where peace is nothing but the breath before catastrophe,
three siblings chase a day of sunlight—
not knowing it will be their last.

Finde opened his eyes.
Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, spreading across the room like a tender caress.
It was a holiday: no school, no lessons—just the spring wind and his siblings.
He could have stayed in bed, but the world outside was calling—
like a heartbeat in his chest, impossible to ignore.

He threw open the window.
The cool air filled his lungs.
Before him stretched a landscape painted by a patient hand: bright green hills speckled with flowers, and, in the distance, the slow breath of Greentowne’s fields.
The sky was clear and deep blue, and the song of birds drifted through the trees like a forgotten melody.

“Plenty of choices today…” he murmured with a grin.
He had already decided: fishing with Miky and Lisey on the Silk River terraces.
And, of course, a contest—whoever caught the biggest fish would win the glory…
and a dinner fit for kings.

Before the mirror, a fifteen-year-old boy stared back at him:
around one meter seventy, gray-black hair, dark green eyes with shades of blue—
a rare color, his father said.
Finde only hoped Lyana would like it—the girl who made his head spin more than any wind.

For months, he had been training every morning: push-ups, running, pull-ups.
He flexed, grinned at his reflection.
“Not bad.”

But not today.
Today was freedom.

He dashed downstairs, woke his siblings with a shout that rattled the windows,
and minutes later the three of them were already outside, fishing rods slung over their shoulders.

“The winner gets double ice cream tonight!” their father Jeremi called from the door,
while their mother, Nuelle, laughed behind him.

Finde’s planet was called Gliese, classified as a “white planet”:
a simple, rural world, sustained by the sweat and serenity of its people.
Far from interstellar wars and the trade of dominant civilizations,
Gliese was a hidden gem among the stars.

Finde’s family embodied that peace.
Jeremi, the town doctor and Greentowne’s councilor, was a righteous man—respected, feared only by sickness.
His wife, Nuelle, was the beating heart of the house:
a seamstress with golden hands and a smile that healed as much as her husband’s medicine.
The twins, Miky and Lisey, were opposite poles—he quiet and thoughtful, she impulsive and curious.
And then there was Finde, the eldest—restless, always chasing a new horizon.

After a royal breakfast, the three set off running.
They crossed Mr. Sullivan’s orchards, cut through the Main Road,
and headed for Zuccola Hill, west of Mr. Bourges’ fields.
Finde ran ahead, shouting:

“Whoever keeps up gets a taste of my ice cream!”

“Slow down, idiot!” Lisey yelled,
while Miky panted behind them.

The hill greeted them in sacred silence.
Before them, the Silk River cascaded in natural steps, forming small pools and waterfalls where the water shimmered like molten glass.
A gentle wind moved through the leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and wildflowers.

Finde stopped, breathed deeply, and smiled.
That place felt more like home than home itself.

A few hundred meters away, Mr. Bourges was plowing his field.
He was in excellent spirits—the summer promised abundant harvests,
and soon his daughter would be married.
The sun warmed his back, and for a moment, life seemed perfect.

Then, it happened.

A glint—small, violet—among the turned soil.
He tilted his head. Perhaps a fragment of metal, he thought.
He bent closer for a better look.

The light grew stronger,
and suddenly a thin violet beam shot upward,
drawing a perfect arc in the air.
A luminous semicircle, three meters tall, suspended in nothingness.

Bourges froze.

The space enclosed between the ground and the arch began to blur,
as if the air itself were peeling away from reality.
Then the color shifted—gray, then dark, then black as pitch.
The air boiled and trembled,
as if something were clawing at the surface of the world, trying to break free.

Then, all at once, the turbulence ceased.
Before him stood a black mirror—glossy, still—framed by that violet glow.

Bourges stepped back.
He heard a whisper.

No—
not outside. Inside his head.
A voice that wasn’t a voice,
a sound that scraped across his mind.

“Who’s there?!” he shouted, turning around.
No one.

He looked back at the mirror.
He was hypnotized.
Every fiber of his body screamed to run, but his legs no longer listened.
He took one step forward. Then another.
He reached out his hand.

His fingertips touched the black surface—cold, alive.

Something grabbed him.

A scream tore through the silence of the countryside.

No one in Greentowne could ever explain what happened that day.
But from that moment on,reality began to bleed.

[To be continued in Episode 2 – The Singularity]

©  2025 – Story & Concept by Filippo Cupi (Italy).
All rights reserved.

First published on Tapas.io