11 Hours Until the Merge
Everything felt... wrong.
The city's lights flickered like a dying heartbeat, clinging to life. Most streetlamps and lanterns had gone out days ago—not that it mattered.
No one went outside anymore.
The local news station had never seen so much traction. The reoccurring blackouts gave rise to reports of people sighting creatures with long limbs, slender bodies, and dark grey skin.
Alongside that were photos going viral of strange anomalies---
Thin slits in the air that looked like the world itself were tearing open.
Some people online claimed the images were photoshopped.
Others pointed fingers at Orpheum, the secretive megacorporation rumored to be running biogenetic experiments behind closed doors.
...And some believed that the creatures were aliens of some sort, coming to earth through the anomalous gates.
Theories were spreading like wildfire, and because of it the city was quickly drowned in mystery—and fear.
Its light was gone.
But in its absence, the stars above had never shone brighter.
Stefan adjusted the telescope's focus, trying to ignore the constant buzzing of the house's exterior lights twitching in and out of existence as he stood on the balcony.
"Here, try this one," Tia said as she stepped outside, holding a different eyepiece in her hand.
She wiped it clean with the fabric of her jacket, then swapped it out with the one on the scope.
"Whoa," Stefan smiled, leaning back into the telescope.
"This is way clearer..." He breathed, taking in the breathtaking view above — hues of soft blue and green stretched across a dark navy sky.
"See? I told you. Now try turning it to the—"
Tia's voice cut off as a low rumble shook the balcony beneath their feet. The lights flickered — on, off, on, off, on again.
Stefan's head shot up, immediately alert.
"What's happening?!"
"I—I'm not sure," Tia said, glancing around. "An earthquake, maybe?"
A soft chiming began to ring in Stefan's ears. He winced, stumbling back a step.
"Hey—are you okay?" Tia asked.
"Y-yeah—do you hear that?" Stefan replied, now clutching his head as the ringing intensified, growing sharp and dissonant.
"Hear what?" Tia asked, confused.
But her voice seemed to hang suspended in the air—
Because that's when it happened.
The sky tore open.
A streak of pale, electric blue—nearly white—ripped across the night sky like a blade, illuminating the clouds in stark silhouette.
The two of them froze, staring up in disbelief as the striding light above twisted and pulsed intensely.
Then came the city's emergency sirens—piercing and shrill.
Tia instinctively grabbed Stefan's arm, her hand trembling slightly as the sirens echoed through the once quiet city.
Blood began to trickle from Stefan's nose in a steady stream. His head throbbed from the relentless chiming, his vision blurring as he dropped to his knees.
"Stefan!" Tia cried, dropping down beside him, gripping his shoulders as she looked back up at the sky.
The object tore through the atmosphere in a fiery blue blaze, leaving streaks of color in its wake—red, gold, green, yellow. It painted the sky in unnatural hues, bending it into something unrecognizable.
For a moment, it felt like the world was about to end.
Then came the screech—a high, alien wail that ripped through the air, forcing even Tia to cover her ears.
The object shot forward, accelerating abruptly—
Before bursting entirely.
Red sparks exploded outward, scattering across the sky like embers. One by one, they blinked out into nothing.
And just like that—
Everything stopped.
The city's lights died.
The sirens crackled, then fizzled into silence with the sputter of failing circuits.
Every sound vanished.
The house followed suit, the lights growing slightly brighter, before dying out completely.
And the two of them stood there—alone.
In total darkness.
They panted in the dark, gasping for air.
"Stefan... are you alright?" Tia called out, still holding onto him. But Stefan didn't respond—his ears were still ringing, struggling to adjust to the sudden drop in noise.
"T-- Tia?" he finally managed to say.
The lights fluttered back on, security alarms beeped and chimed as the systems rebooted.
Moments later, backup generators turned on, illuminating multiple districts within the city.
Tia stood up, helping Stefan to his feet. His vision was dazed, his body heavy with fatigue.
"C'mon, let's go inside," she said hastily, supporting his weight as they made their way into the house, towards his bedroom.
The moment Stefan hit the mattress, he collapsed like a ragdoll. Tia glanced down at her shirt and saw streaks of his blood-stained onto her clothes.
"Stay right there."
She dashed out into the hallway. The sound of drawers opening echoed in the background. It didn't take long before she returned with a roll of tissue and some wet wipes.
"Let me see," she said, lifting his head gently. She wiped the blood from his mouth and nose, then carefully tore off a piece of tissue and stuffed it into his nostril.
Once she finished, the tension in her shoulders eased. She collapsed on the bed beside him with a long exhale.
"Stefan... what the absolute fuck was that?" she asked, voice breathless.
This time, Stefan heard her loud and clear—but he was still speechless. Tired. Confused. Then, a memory surfaced.
"M-my dad... he mentioned something like this might happen," he muttered, barely above a whisper.
"What do you mean?" Tia asked, puzzled.
"Before he left for his business trip—or whatever, he wouldn't shut up about these weird 'supernatural events' that would start happening soon, especially in this city."
"You mean like the monster sightings on the news? And those weird rips in the sky?" she asked, glancing at him. Stefan nodded.
"The thing is, those only started happening recently. But my dad... he predicted these things weeks ago. Back when the first blackouts hit," He rubbed his nose gently, holding his head upwards.
"Doesn't your dad work for Orpheum? He probably knows way more than he's letting on. Stef, what just happened was insane—and if he already knew it was coming, then what else does he know?" Tia asked, fidgeting with the corners of her jacket.
Stefan paused, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "I'm not sure… me and my dad don't really talk."
A silence settled between them. Then Tia's phone chimed from within her pocket.
"Oh shit, my mom's here..." she said, pulling out her phone and showing him the screen.
"She's definitely freaking out, she texted 'I'm outside. Come NOW' with like... five exclamation points." Tia laughed.
Stefan tried to sit up. "I should walk you to the car, right?"
But Tia placed a hand on his chest, gently pressing him back down. "Oh no, mister. You need rest."
She disappeared briefly onto the balcony, packing up her telescope. When she returned, it was slung in its case, her bag zipped tight.
"I'll tell my mom you said Hey," she added with a warm smile as she walked toward the door.
"A-alright then…" Stefan muttered. "Text me when you get home."
Tia giggled, "Right, be seeing you, playboy."
And with that she left, slowly shutting the door behind her.
Playboy...? Stefan thought to himself.
He shook his head and turned over, burying his face into his pillow.
As he tried to drift off, the sound of the bell returned, ringing in his ears.
Its chime faint, yet persistent.
Stefan twisted and turned, groaning.
He reached over, grabbing a tv remote off the nightstand nearby.
He turned on the screen, the light and noise filled the room, drowning out the ringing--- for now, at least.
Face buried in his pillow, frustration gave way to exhaustion.
A news anchor's voice echoed faintly as Stefan drifted off, a crisp graphic on screen read:
Breaking: Orpheum Confirms Anomalies Linked to Citywide Blackouts
The screen flickered to an Orpheum Industries press conference, their emblem—a silver ouroboros logo projected behind a stern-faced spokesperson.
"After weeks of analysis," the spokesperson said, voice clipped, "we've identified the outages as the result of concentrated electromagnetic anomalies."
The broadcast cut to surveillance footage: a streetlight exploding in reverse, sparks sucked back into its bulb. The air around it rippled like water, a jagged seam splitting reality for half a second before sealing shut.
"These phenomena, termed 'rifts,' exhibit spatial distortion properties. Most dissipate within moments."
A pause. The spokesperson's jaw tightened.
"However, their frequency and size are increasing. As of tonight, seven stable rifts have been confirmed within city limits."
The screen switched to grainy cellphone footage—time-stamped three hours ago. A man's voice, shaky, played over blurred motion:
"Hey, so uhm--- I was sitting on my porch when the air just… folded. Like something was pushing through from the other side."
The camera panned up. A tear in the sky, edges crackling with blue static, stretched above a rooftop.
The man panned the camera back to himself, holding a dramatic face of shock.
"Like--- can anybody tell me what's been going on with these things popping up in New Jersey?"
Then—a sound was heard. Not electricity. Not the wind.
A growl. Low, guttural, the camera's screen began to vibrate as the noise echoed.
The footage jerked violently as the man gasped. Something long and jointed flickered past the the corner of the screen—too fast to focus on.
Without another word, the video abruptly cut to black.
The news anchor reappeared.
"Orpheum advises citizens to report any rift sightings immediately—and to avoid interaction at all costs."
A beat of silence. Then, off-camera, a producer's muffled shout. The anchor's earpiece crackled. His eyes widened.
"We—we've just received live footage from the Riverside district. I-it appears that a rift has—"
The broadcast glitched. For half a second, the screen showed another figure—tall, limbs too many and too thin—stepping through a shimmering wound in the air.
Then static.