Helius lived an ordinary life. He wasn't born into wealth, nor did he carry any special privilege that might place him higher in society. He rented a small apartment, worked at a company that paid only slightly above average, and lived quietly without much excitement. His life was simple—ordinary, but hard-earned through persistence, giving him at least a modest stability.
But then, fate turned against him.
It happened after Helius decided to return to his hometown in the province. He had just resigned from his job, married his fiancée, and begun a new chapter of his life. Their wedding had been one of the happiest days he had ever known. Years of sacrifice, hard work, and patience had led to that moment. To him, marriage was more than love—it was a promise, a foundation to build a family, and a reason to keep moving forward despite life's struggles.
But not long after the wedding, tragedy struck.
His parents died in an accident, and the news shattered him. The joy he had just begun to build was torn away, leaving only grief in its place. He immediately traveled back to his hometown, desperate to see his parents one last time before they were laid to rest.
The day of the funeral was heavy and gray. Clouds blanketed the sky, and the air itself seemed to mourn with him. Standing before the tomb where his parents' names were carved into stone, Helius felt an emptiness grow within. His brothers and sister tried to comfort him, their hands resting on his shoulders. His wife remained close, holding him, whispering for him to stay strong. Helius felt her warmth, but the pain pierced too deeply for words to heal.
That night, after the burial, he spoke quietly with his wife. He told her he needed time in his hometown—to grieve, to find peace—before joining her again in the city. She looked at him with understanding, though he could see the reluctance in her eyes. A few days later, she returned to the capital, leaving Helius to face his sorrow alone.
From then on, Helius chose isolation. He moved into a small wooden house in the mountains, a place his parents often stayed whenever they sought peace away from town. The land was quiet, surrounded by fields where vegetables grew and chickens roamed freely. The air was crisp, the nights silent except for the chirping of crickets and the distant barking of dogs.
His daily life here was simple—tending the garden, caring for the chickens, chopping wood. His only true companion was his loyal dog, Bravo.
One afternoon, a visitor came. A fair-skinned, slightly heavy middle-aged man appeared, dressed in a way that made him look more like a city dweller than someone from the countryside. It was John, Helius' brother.
"Helius, here are the groceries you asked for," John called.
"Thanks, just put them in the kitchen," Helius answered, struggling to put a leash on a restless chicken.
John climbed up to the house and went inside. The home itself was a traditional provincial wooden house with a wide porch at the front and two rooms inside.
"Phew, it's hot today. Got any water?" John complained.
"In the big jar in the kitchen—help yourself," Helius shouted back.
After tying up the chicken, he continued cleaning the cage beneath the house. In their province, it was common to build poultry houses below the elevated floor, supported by seven-foot wooden beams. It was a design born of both tradition and practicality, allowing families to raise animals right under their homes.
By midday, the sun blazed overhead. Helius set his tools aside and sat on the porch with a cup of black coffee and bread John had brought. In the province, coffee wasn't just for mornings; farmers drank it even under the heat of the day—not for warmth, but for the jolt of energy that kept them awake and active.
Helius gazed at the garden below when John broke the silence.
"Are you really not going back to the capital? Emma must be needing you there," John asked.
"Soon," Helius replied softly. "I just want to enjoy solitude a little longer. At least this way, I can repay what I failed to give our parents before they passed."
John fell quiet, memories of their parents weighing on him. After a moment, he said, "You know it wasn't your fault. We weren't born rich or accomplished, but we did our best. I believe they knew that."
Helius clenched his jaw, his heart aching. Their parents had died during an emergency trip to another city. His father collapsed unexpectedly, and his mother accompanied him in the ambulance. But tragedy struck—the vehicle collided with a large passenger bus. Everyone inside the ambulance, including the nurses, perished. The bus driver died as well, while several passengers were left injured.
The accident left Helius consumed with guilt. He blamed himself, thinking that if only he had achieved success sooner, his parents could have lived comfortably in the city with him instead of staying in the province.
During his years in the capital, he had struggled endlessly, clawing for a better life. Yet he never gave up. With his fiancée's support, he finally managed to achieve something decent. They got engaged quickly, married soon after, urged by his parents who wished to see their grandchildren. He resigned from his job to set up a business and was preparing to invite his parents to live with him.
But it was too late.
This became the saddest chapter of Helius' life—a man who had fought to survive, who thought he had finally secured everything he needed to build a future, only to lose the people he most wanted to share it with.
---
Months passed since John's visit. Helius continued his life in solitude. One morning, he woke early as usual to prepare food and feed the animals when his phone buzzed with a call.
"Good morning, Chapsoy," he greeted warmly, using their endearment.
"Good morning," Emma's voice answered softly. She was still in the capital, managing their business.
"When are you coming home? I miss you," she pleaded, her tone heavy with longing.
The words pierced him like a bullet. The pain of being apart from his wife was unbearable, though he knew it was the consequence of his stubborn decision.
"After a week, I'll be home," he reassured her.
But as the call ended, reality sank in. A month of isolation had left him trapped in self-pity, blaming himself for his parents' death even though he knew it wasn't truly his fault. Instead of facing reality, he had imprisoned himself in grief, and though Emma understood him, he realized he had been acting like a child—running from life instead of living it.
Determined to change, Helius decided he would return to the capital after a week.
That evening, after a long conversation with his wife, he felt lighter. For the first time in months, he thought the night might finally be peaceful.
But that night, peace was broken.
Helius was jolted awake by a loud, heavy impact outside. The dogs barked furiously, chickens flapped in alarm, and the ground trembled as if something massive had struck the earth. At first, he thought it was just a thief—chicken theft was common in rural areas. Grabbing a machete and a flashlight, he rushed outside to investigate.
The dogs weren't barking aimlessly; they were fixed on the southern hill not far from his house. There, he noticed a faint glow. A fire flickered on the hill, small but strange, especially in the quiet of the night. Curious and cautious, Helius followed the sound and the light.
When he reached the spot, he froze in shock.
A crater lay before him, fresh from impact. Smoke curled upward, and the earth was torn apart. His first thought was that a meteorite had crashed here. But when he stepped closer, his eyes caught something far more unusual.
Hovering above the crater was a cube-shaped object. It glowed white with hints of blue, shifting and bending into strange patterns of squares that seemed to move and rearrange themselves endlessly. Despite having no wings, no engines, no visible technology at all, it floated in the air as if defying gravity.
Helius, unable to resist his curiosity, carefully climbed down the crater. The object hovered just five feet from the ground, pulsing with light. He reached out a trembling hand to touch it.
At first, his hand slipped right through, like passing through smoke. Startled, he tried to pull back, but suddenly the cube latched onto him. His hand was stuck inside.
Then came the pain.
A thick, black fluid seeped from the cube into his skin. It crawled into his pores, running through his veins, muscles, and bones. His entire body burned as if every cell was being torn apart and remade. He screamed, his cries mixing with the frantic barking of the dogs outside.
The agony lasted for what felt like an eternity. He pulled, twisted, and fought to free his hand, but the cube wouldn't let go. After a minute, the pain dulled slightly, only to be replaced by something worse—information.
Images, symbols, and knowledge he could not understand flooded into his mind, pressing against his thoughts until his skull felt like it would split open. He clutched his head and staggered, screaming in agony as the cube forced alien knowledge into his brain.
After two unbearable minutes, the cube vanished, dissolving into thin air.
Helius collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath, his body trembling and drenched in sweat. His vision blurred, his muscles ached, and exhaustion crushed him like a heavy weight.