Rome never truly sleeps.
It only breathes softly beneath yellow lamps, among ancient domes and stone corridors that hold the echoes of thousands of footsteps. That night, the summer wind carried the scent of fountains and warm asphalt. Tourists still laughed at street corners. A violinist stood near the steps, playing a melody that sounded like a prayer that had forgotten who it was meant for.
Luca Valerian Moretti stood alone on the roof of his apartment.
He wasn't looking for stars. He wasn't waiting for anything.
He just wanted to get away from the noise of the world.
In the distance, the silhouette of the Colosseum rose in darkness. Its ring looked like the open jaw of a giant, ready to swallow the night. Luca often looked at it without thinking. The structure was too old to be called majestic anymore. It simply… existed.
10:17 PM.
The sky made a sound.
Not a boom. Not an explosion.
More like a soft scraping, like a fingernail slowly dragged across glass.
People on the street looked up.
Luca looked too.
There was a thin line in the air.
A line that should not have been there.
It stretched from east to west, crossing church domes, slicing through clouds, dividing the moon into two faint halves. The line glowed softly, like light trapped between two layers of reality.
Someone laughed, assuming it was a drone or a projection.
The line trembled.
Luca felt the vibration in his teeth.
The stone beneath his feet hissed.
The air grew heavy, like before a storm, yet without wind.
The line widened.
A second sound emerged, one that did not enter through the ears, but through the spine. A low vibration, like an echo from an impossibly deep void.
Windows shattered at once.
The first scream broke the night.
Luca held his breath.
The sky split.
Not like fabric being torn.
More like the surface of water forced open from within.
The rift was dark.
Too dark.
And from that darkness, something descended.
Not falling.
Descending with intention.
Its body was tall, slender, like an unfinished sculpture. Its skin was not skin, but a cracked surface reflecting the city lights in fractured shards. From its back extended wing-like structures, composed of fragments like broken mirrors.
It hovered directly above the Colosseum.
Rome stopped.
Luca felt pressure crushing his chest.
The creature had no eyes.
Yet Luca knew he was being watched.
The sensation was precise, sharp as if a thin needle pierced his mind and examined him from the inside.
The creature raised its hand.
The air solidified.
In an instant, buildings on the western side of the city collapsed like toys crushed underfoot.
Explosions tore through the night.
Fire ignited.
People ran without direction. Cars collided. A man fell in front of Luca, blood streaming from his forehead. A mother screamed her child's name somewhere within the smoke.
Luca did not move.
He did not know where to go.
The ground trembled again.
The rift in the sky widened, and from it, other shadows fell. Their forms varied, some like long-boned beasts, some like clusters of arms without bodies, others resembling humans with inverted faces.
They landed on rooftops, on streets, inside buildings.
The screams became one long, unbroken sound.
Luca stepped back.
His mind was blank.
He saw the Colosseum crack at its upper edge. Stones that had stood for two thousand years crumbled like old dust.
The winged creature turned.
It had no eyes.
Yet Luca felt its focus lock onto him.
Why me?
The question formed without sound.
The creature tilted its head.
Time slowed.
Amid fire and ruin, Luca saw his reflection in a shattered window.
The reflection did not move.
It stood upright even as Luca trembled.
The reflection gave a faint smile.
Luca blinked.
It returned to normal.
The creature lowered its hand.
White light exploded from its body.
A shockwave swept the rooftop. Luca was thrown backward, his head striking concrete. The taste of metal filled his mouth. The world spun.
He lay there.
The sky looked like a wound that could not be stitched.
The sounds grew distant.
He saw a girl running below her hair lit by flames, her face pale. For some reason, that face felt important. Too important.
He tried to stand.
His legs would not move.
Heat crept closer.
The creature descended slowly to the ground, standing at the center of the collapsing Colosseum arena. The earth sank beneath the weight of its existence.
For a moment, all shadows stopped moving.
The creature faced Luca.
No distance seemed to exist. As if the world between them had folded.
Luca felt something tearing through his mind.
Images flashed: other cities burning, seas drying, skies fracturing again and again.
This was not coincidence.
This was not a single disaster.
This was the beginning.
The creature opened a cavity in its face.
Not a mouth.
Yet a sound emerged.
Not language.
More like pressure.
The word carved itself directly into his brain.
Witness.
Luca did not know how he understood.
Witness.
Not victim.
Not target.
Witness.
Light engulfed the city.
Luca's body burned from within.
He tried to scream, but no sound came.
His thoughts circled one thing:
I didn't even try.
And as the light swallowed everything
Another voice appeared.
Different.
Cold. Mechanical.
"Temporal anomaly detected."
Silence.
"Subject confirmed."
Luca fell into darkness.
He woke up gasping.
A bright blue sky greeted him.
Not a fractured sky.
Not smoke.
Just ordinary blue.
He lay on the rooftop of his apartment.
No fire.
No screams.
Only distant car horns and casual tourist chatter.
Luca sat up slowly.
His hands trembled.
He looked around.
The Colosseum stood whole, solid, untouched.
His phone read 2:03 PM.
The date.
Three years before that night.
He stared at the screen until the numbers lost meaning.
His breathing shortened.
This is a dream.
He stood, nearly stumbling.
He ran down the stairs and into the street.
People walked normally. A child laughed. A vendor sold bottled water.
No fractures.
No line in the sky.
Luca touched his face.
Real.
He returned to the rooftop.
He stared at the calm blue sky.
No sign of anything.
Yet inside his head, something felt… loose. Like a string pulled too tight and suddenly released.
He closed his eyes.
That night returned in painful detail.
The creature.
The rift.
The word.
Witness.
He opened his eyes.
If this is real…
If he truly returned…
Then three years from now, the sky will crack again.
He laughed softly.
Not happy laughter.
More like someone realizing his fate no longer belongs to him.
Three years.
He has three years.
For what?
To save?
Or to change?
The evening wind swept across the rooftop. His shadow stretched across the concrete.
For a fraction of a second—
The shadow moved first.
Luca froze.
The shadow turned.
There was no face, yet he knew something there was watching him.
Then it returned to normal.
He looked at the Colosseum once more.
It looked different now.
Not merely a monument.
But a marker.
As if something beneath it was waiting.
Luca drew a deep breath.
He will not be a witness again.
The question is—
Will he become the savior… or the cause?