The first rays of dawn hadn't reached her room yet, but Lyra was already awake. She lay on her bed, staring up at the familiar ceiling, feeling the weight of another day she didn't want to face. School. The word held no meaning this morning, just like every morning.
Turning to the side of her bed, she reached for her phone and glanced at the screen. 4 a.m. Far too early to start getting ready. She sighed quietly and picked up her sketchpad from the desk beside her bed. The blank pages seemed to call her name. There was a kind of comfort in their untainted purity—and the power to change them with just a lead of graphite.
Her pencil hovered for a moment before she pressed it to paper. The familiar scrape of graphite broke the silence of the room. Thoughts, half-formed and wandering, flowed from her fingers onto the page. Drawing was easier than talking. Easier than facing the world outside her room.
A soft knock at her door broke the quiet.
"Lyra?" Nova's small voice called out.
She glanced at her phone. Hours had slipped by unnoticed. 7 a.m. Already. School started in an hour. With a sigh, she set her sketchpad aside, stretched, and prepared herself for the day ahead.
After getting ready, she headed downstairs, grabbed a quick breakfast, and offered a brief, "Bye," to her parents before leaving the house.
As she walked, the familiar sights of the neighborhood greeted her. Mr. Tanaka dragged his trash cans to the curb, muttering to himself as always. Mrs. Hoshino tended to her plants with meticulous care, while two children raced down the sidewalk, laughing without a care. Lyra observed it all silently, letting the small details etch themselves in her mind.
Everything seemed ordinary, predictable, almost boring. Yet she couldn't help but notice—the slight tilt of a mailbox, a cracked tile on the pavement, the rhythm of footsteps against concrete. Little things, insignificant to anyone else, but to her, a quiet record of the world she moved through without ever fully being part of it.
Her brother trailed behind her as they walked to school. She pulled out her headphones and let the music connect her to the world. Soon, she arrived at school, greeted by familiar clichés and friends alike. Nova had already sprinted off to his class, wishing her a quick goodbye.
As she turned, she saw Lex, her best friend. They bonded over art, anime, music, and puzzle-solving. Together, they walked to the assembly that was already in progress, their conversation flowing as naturally as ever.
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Meanwhile, in a high-rise office overlooking the school, the Patterson estate was alive with a different kind of morning.
"Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, you are our last stop today," a sharp voice announced. "I believe the details of our contract are complete. Are the specimens ready?"
The owners of the school exchanged a cold, calculating glance. Outside, everything appeared ordinary. Students walked, teachers prepared lessons, and the sun rose over a quiet town. But inside, plans that would soon turn that ordinary morning upside down were already in motion.
Minutes later, without warning, figures dressed in ash suits moved silently through the school grounds. No alarms, no announcements—just sudden, precise infiltration. The ordinary day that Lyra had walked through with detached observation was about to shatter completely.
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Lyra sat at her desk, pencil poised, eyes scanning the equations on the board. Advanced Physics was her favorite subject—not because it was easy, but because it obeyed rules. Every calculation, every law was predictable, orderly. Unlike humans. Unlike the world outside.
She was halfway through solving a complex problem when the door slammed open. The sudden noise made heads turn.
"Everyone! Clear your desks. Remove all your clothes. Head to the assembly immediately!" a figure barked, voice sharp and commanding.
Shock rippled through the classroom. Teachers froze. Students stared, unsure if this was some kind of joke. But Lyra, for a moment, just tilted her head and studied them. They were precise, systematic, moving like a coordinated unit. Every detail mattered—the way they held themselves, the way they anticipated resistance.
The teacher tried to protest, but the intruders were already moving to the next desk, enforcing their order with precise, unyielding force.
"Wait… this is ridiculous," one student protested, voice shaking. "How can anyone just ask us to strip in front of everyone? That's—preposterous!"
The words barely left their mouth before the air itself seemed to ripple.
Out of nowhere, a figure appeared—silent, precise, impossibly fast. It wasn't ordinary. Nothing about them was. In one fluid motion, a weapon materialized in their hand. No sound, no warning.
The student's protest cut off in a strangled scream. The bullet struck her head, invisible until it hit. The result was instantaneous—her skull shattered, blood splattering across the classroom, screams echoing as chaos erupted.
Lyra's mind raced, heart tightening despite her composure. Nova… is he alright? She glanced instinctively toward where he should be, hoping he hadn't gotten caught up in the first wave. Her pencil hovered uselessly in her bag. Physics, calculations, rules—none of it mattered now.
The invaders moved with terrifying precision, enforcing a nightmare no human could truly comprehend. Panic swept through the classroom, but Lyra's thoughts stayed with her brother.