The Earth was no longer quiet.
In the ruins of what was once a developed city, the streets cracked open and trembled—not from alien attack, but from within. Ancient tremors pulsed through the land as if the planet itself were waking from a long sleep.
The Drokar had begun their march.
Athan stood on a massive stone platform rising from the heart of a mountain range. His arms were unbound now. Not because he was free but because the Drokar had no reason to fear him. Around him, a firelight swayed on the ancient carved rock walls. Some of them looked terrifyingly human.
The Alien elder, Varuk, stood beside him, silent.
"You've seen what we did to your cities," Varuk finally said. "You call it conquest."
Athan didn't answer.
"We call it restoration."
"Restoration?" Athan's voice cracked with disbelief. "You tore our homes apart."
"Your homes," Varuk echoed. "The houses are buried in water, others engulfed by fire. You call the state of your city civilization. The Earth called it suffering."
Athan turned. "So you think killing us will heal the planet?"
Varuk looked down at him. "Not killing. Reminding."
A rumble rose from the earth below. The walls began to glow with melting lines. A map lit up showing the Earth as it was, then overlaying the fractured continents, the polluted waters, the dying skies. Then three glowing marks pulsed in rhythm: Sky. Sea. Land.
Athan saw himself reflected in the glowing stone.
"You were chosen," Varuk said. "By the land. Not because you are powerful. But because you are wounded."
"I didn't ask to be chosen."
"Neither did the Earth."
—--------
Far across the ocean, Athan stood on a Zhurax shore platform, a living reef-ship that stretched for miles. He watched the sky darken, the clouds parting just enough to reveal the tail end of a Veyari platform drifting past like a wounded ghost.
"They're watching," he murmured.
Beside him, Kieran nodded. "They always are. The Veyari see all. They believe knowledge prevents war."
"Then why did they let this happen?"
Kieran looked down, his voice soft. "Because to stop it, they'd have to erase humanity. They're still trying to avoid that."
Athan clenched his fists. "So we're stuck in a prison that thinks it's a sanctuary."
Kieran didn't answer. Instead, he reached into a nearby pool and pulled out a piece of movement—a combination of human alloy and Zhurax coral. It sparkles in his hand.
"This is the key," he said. "To merge what we were with what we could be."
Athan stepped back. "You want me to join you?"
"I want you to understand," he replied. "The resistance is losing not because they're weak but because they refuse to evolve."
His mind burned with memories with the Zaryans, the first who came to take the Earth and he got to know of their reason.
"I can't just forget everything, Athan, what they've done."
"No," Kieran agreed. "But maybe it's time to remember why the Earth called them in the first place."
Elsewhere, above the Arctic Circle.
The Veyari held court.
Their sky-city sparkles, each structure floated in proper standard. Wind whispered through transparent towers where no human could survive. Inside the central spire, a council of Veyari gathered around a single memory crystal, one that now held Athan's thoughts.
"He resists," said one.
"hHe questions," said another. "That is not the same."
"He dreams still in human patterns."
"Yet he breathes within our atmosphere."
There was silence.
Finally, a voice older, slower echoed: "The fracture is near. The Drokar awakens the Earth's wrath. The Zhurak stirred memories. And the humans, they divide."
A new vision flickered within the crystal: a group of humans kneeling before a Drokar war priest pledging loyalty.
An undersea colony of survivors breathing with Zhurax tech, willingly absorbing alien traits.
Rebel cells planning attacks on alien strongholds, more desperate than ever.
The council was quiet.
"They must choose," the oldest said.
"No," came the reply from the youngest. "He must choose."
That night, as Athan sat by the scarby-ship's edge, a shadow descended from the sky.
Wings of light folded into form.
It didn't speak. It simply floated before him, holding a single orb of light.
Athan stood.
"I'm done being told what to believe," He said angrily. "If you want something from me, say it." He was no longer keeping quiet. The air lurked with tension, suspense acted upon it. He knew this alien had something to say to him and his ears were itching to hear.
When he had stayed for long and no response came, he became worried and spoke angrily.
Veyari's voice resonated not in his mind, but in the air for the first time. It draped his response in a chorus, one that will go through his memory.
"Choose. One realm. One truth. One path. You cannot keep on claiming the Chosen to fight the Aliens. Let us know your mind, where you really stand and where you will always stand."
"We need to know," it repeated.
The blank window floated to his hand.
Inside, he saw it again: his brother in the sea. Zaryans in the stone. Himself in the sky. If they could capture one of the first species of Aliens, then they must be really powerful.
This was a truth he didn't want to accept as he would have to think about himself.
These aliens wanted to know more about the humans, they wanted to buy him to themselves, the same mission as his. Gathering more information about the Triarchs before striking with his fellow humans.
Three versions. Three strongholds.
These species came united, unlike the first. They would be really difficult to defeat. More information was needed. He wouldn't go about shouting; he needed to know more about them.
Seeing him, they could know what he's here for. But at the same time, they would out turn his mission and want to get him for themselves.
This is his only privilege. One he could use to achieve a lot. He was a Chosen, now chosen to deal with three, not one this time.
"Only one would remain," he definitely muttered within him. "But then it would neither of you."
"But the humans."
But then a question arose inside of him.
"Who are you to take this course?"
It was the voice of danger looming.