The wind screamed against the windows of the small Setagaya apartment, a relentless force that seemed determined to tear the building from its foundations. Hana watched frost crawl across the glass like living lace, her knuckles white as she gripped the windowsill. This was no ordinary storm. This was the world coming apart at the seams. When the frantic pounding came at her door, she jumped, her heart leaping into her throat.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice barely audible over the storm's fury.
"Dr. Elyra Tanaka!" a woman's voice shouted back, strained but familiar. "Hana, please! It's me! I was with Naira and Varos! Let us in before we freeze!"
The mention of her son-in-law's name broke through Hana's fear. She fumbled with the locks and pulled the door open against the wind's pressure. Two figures stumbled into the entryway, covered in a fine layer of icy snow. Elyra leaned heavily on a crutch, her face pale with pain and cold, while a handsome, composed man in a long coat immediately began helping brush the ice from their clothing.
"Lock it," the man said, his voice calm but firm. Hana complied automatically, her eyes fixed on Elyra. She looked older, weathered by suffering, but the same sharp intelligence shone in her eyes.
"Elyra," Hana breathed. "I heard about your leg..."
"It doesn't matter," Elyra said through chattering teeth. "Hana, this is Dr. Chen. He's been helping me. We're here to see Naira. We need to see her."
Hana's maternal instincts surged forward like a shield. She stepped between them and the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "No. Absolutely not. Look at what's happening outside! She's finally safe here. She's peaceful. She's sleeping. I won't let you drag your world of monsters and conspiracies back into her life!"
Dr. Chen stepped forward, offering a small, respectful bow. "Mrs. Tanaka, your fear is completely understandable. A grandmother's love is the strongest fortress. But the storm outside isn't the only threat. There are powerful forces at work governments that see children like Naira not as human beings to protect, but as resources to exploit."
Hana's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"The Americans have a program," Elyra interjected, her voice pleading. "They're hunting what they call 'void children.' They're taking them and using their energy. We have proof. We want to stop it. We want to show the world that Naira isn't a monster or a battery. She's a child who deserves protection. But to do that, we need your help. We need her."
Chen's voice remained soothing and reasonable. "We're not here to take her from you. We want to work with you to build a sanctuary, to create a new story that could protect thousands of children like Naira. Elyra's credibility combined with Naira's story could change everything."
Hana looked from Elyra's desperate, sincere face to Chen's calm, reassuring one. The wind howled its agreement outside. Her safe haven was becoming a prison. Could these two, damaged as they were, truly offer protection? Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "She's sleeping," Hana repeated, but the fight had gone out of her voice. "You can see her when she wakes. You can stay until the storm passes. But no demands. No frightening her. Is that clear?"
Elyra nodded, tears of gratitude welling in her eyes. "Thank you, Hana. Thank you."
When Naira emerged from her room hours later, drawn by the unfamiliar murmur of voices, she stopped dead in the hallway. She blinked, wondering if she was still dreaming. "Dr. Elyra?"
Elyra turned, and the years seemed to melt away in that single glance. "Naira," she whispered, her voice cracking.
The girl didn't hesitate. She crossed the room in seconds and threw her arms around Elyra, burying her face in the woman's coat. Elyra held her tightly, the crutch forgotten on the floor. She breathed in the familiar scent of the girl's hair, memories flooding back the safe house, Varos's protective presence, Azar's silent vigilance, the overwhelming responsibility for this precious life.
"You came back," Naira mumbled into her coat, her small body trembling. "Everyone always leaves, but you came back."
"I'm so sorry, Naira," Elyra whispered, stroking her hair. "I'm so sorry I left you. I was lost. But I'm here now."
They sat together on the sofa for a long time, Hana and Chen watching quietly. Naira talked in an excited rush about school, about her grandmother, about the voices that had gotten so loud and then the Light Man who wouldn't talk back.
"He's in the mirror," she confided to Elyra, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He's made of light, and he tries to talk, but I can't understand him. It's like he's singing a song I don't know the words to."
Elyra listened, her scientific mind reeling even as her heart ached. This transcended any physics she knew. "We'll figure it out together, Naira. I promise."
Dr. Chen observed the reunion with a satisfied smile. The asset was bonding perfectly with the subject. The plan was proceeding exactly as intended.
In the sterile cell deep beneath Moscow, Amanda Reed had become a ghost of her former self. The seven days of psychological dissection had hollowed her out. She sat on the cold floor, rocking slightly, her corporate power suits replaced by a rough grey smock.
Orlov entered, followed by the ever-shimmering Niu. "The transformation is remarkable," Orlov mused, circling her. "From the most powerful woman in the world to this vessel of regret."
Niu's voice echoed in her fractured mind. Regret is a luxury of those who believe in consequences. You are now experiencing the consequence. It is not a feeling. It is a state of being.
Amanda didn't look up. "What do you want from me now? You have everything."
"Validation," Orlov said simply. "And a demonstration."
That evening, as perpetual night pressed down on the rest of the world, Russian state media interrupted all broadcasts. A triumphant General Volkov stood before a map of Russia. "While weak nations cower in darkness, Mother Russia has prepared for self-reliance! We will not be held hostage by a celestial tantrum! Behold, the Zarya Project Our New Dawn!"
The cameras cut to a live feed from Moscow. With a deep, resonant hum that vibrated through the air, a massive, intricate lattice of energy rose from the city's outskirts, spreading across the sky like a colossal honeycomb. At its center, a brilliant, warm light ignited an artificial sun that bathed the city in golden, life-giving glow. Snow on rooftops began to melt. The unnatural darkness retreated, replaced by perfect, controlled daylight that covered the entire nation, shielded by a shimmering energy dome.
The effect on Russia was instantaneous euphoria. People poured into the streets of Moscow and St. Petersburg, weeping with joy, faces turned to the warm, artificial sun. They were safe. They were warm. They were chosen.
The rest of the world reacted with catastrophic panic. Footage spread like wildfire. In Europe, America, Asia, Africa people watched in stunned disbelief. Russia had a sun. They had warmth. They had salvation. And they were keeping it for themselves.
A global stampede began. Airline websites crashed under millions trying to book flights to Russia. Land borders became war zones, with desperate families fighting to get through, only to be met by robotic Russian defense units that repelled them with brutal efficiency. The message was clear: the ark was sealed. The rest of the world could drown in the dark.
That night, nestled in the unfamiliar safety of Elyra's presence, Naira fell into a deep sleep. But the peace was short-lived.
The dream began as a sensation of being vast and infinite. She was the Light Man, the one she called Existence. She felt countless threads of reality woven through her, the birth and death of stars, the patient spin of galaxies. Then, a discordant note. A scream from a tiny, blue-green world.
She saw it clearly the Russian artificial sun, a gaudy, arrogant pinprick of stolen physics, a cage of light built from fear. Around the planet, the true natural balance was fraying, the delicate web of life screaming in agony at the violation.
A concept formed in her mind, a warning transmitted not in words but in fundamental truth: They Forget The Song.
Naira, within the dream, tried to form a question. What song?
The answer came as a wave of profound sorrow. The Song Of What Is. They Build A Single Note And Call It A Symphony. They Warm Their Hands While The Universe Grows Cold. Do Not Forget. You Must Not Forget. The Cost Of Their Fire Is The Death Of The Sky.
She felt the truth of it, a chilling certainty that went deeper than bone. The Russian sun wasn't salvation; it was poison, a selfish act accelerating global collapse.
She woke with a gasp, cosmic despair clinging to her. The room was dark, but Elyra slept on a futon beside her bed. Naira shook her awake.
"Dr. Elyra," she whispered urgently. "I saw him. The Light Man. In my dream."
Elyra was instantly alert. "What did he say? Did you understand him?"
"Not with words," Naira said, her eyes wide and serious. "It was a knowing. He showed me the Russian light. The fake sun. He said it's bad. It's making everything worse. He said we must not forget the song. The cost of their fire is the death of the sky."
Elyra stared at her, the scientist grappling with the child's mystic revelation. It was insane. Impossible. Yet looking into Naira's terrified, sincere eyes, she felt a chill unrelated to the temperature outside. The warning felt true.
As the first "day" under Russia's artificial dawn broke, a grim-faced announcement came from the White House. The press secretary read from a prepared statement.
"The United States government confirms with profound regret that Dr. Amanda Reed, lead scientist of the Void-Solve initiative, is missing. She and her security detail disappeared en route to diplomatic talks in Moscow one week ago. We hold the Russian Federation fully responsible and demand her immediate release."
The statement was a formality, a political shot in a war that had turned literal one side basking in artificial light, the other freezing in darkness. The world had divided between those with hope and those left behind to face the dying sky. And in a small Tokyo apartment, a child who spoke with cosmic entities held a warning nobody yet knew how to hear.