The day had been heavy with silence, the kind that settled into the bones, the kind that only deepened when you were left with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company. Jas felt it most today—the weight of what they didn’t know, the quiet longing for something to feel real. But it was hard to push through the fog.
The cabin felt colder now, not just from the chill in the air, but from the emptiness. No one had spoken much, and even Milagro seemed to sense it, curled up at the foot of the old stone fireplace, his eyes half-closed in a strange, distant way.
Jas was sitting at the table again, flipping through a worn notebook. The pages were filled with half-formed sketches, cryptic words, and random thoughts—anything to pass the time. They stared at the page in front of them, willing it to give them something more, but the words didn’t come.
Suddenly, the lights flickered, then blinked out entirely, plunging the cabin into darkness. Jas stiffened, eyes snapping to the dim outline of Ivy Mae, who was standing by the stove, a surprised look on her face.
“What now?” she muttered.
Before Jas could answer, the power surged back on—just for a moment—but it was enough. The screen of an old television on the far side of the room flickered to life, showing an image Jas wasn’t sure they could believe.
On the screen were three faces, each one instantly recognizable—Elon Musk, Justin Trudeau, and Donald Trump. They were locked in a room together, and the backdrop was apocalyptic—dark clouds swirling outside a tall, crumbling tower. The storm raged, lightning flashing through the sky as the wind howled like something alive.
Jas blinked, wondering if their eyes were playing tricks on them. The figures on the screen looked disheveled, frantic, but somehow stuck in the same position. It was as if time had stopped for them, but the world outside continued to break apart.
“I don't… understand,” Jas murmured, their hand trembling as they reached for the remote, trying to adjust the volume. But the screen stayed frozen, the image of the three men staring back at them, trapped, helpless.
And then a voice—distorted and garbled—came through the static. The words didn’t quite make sense. “We thought we could change it… but we were wrong. The storm... it’s just the beginning. You’re too late.”
Ivy Mae rushed forward, her face pale. “What the hell is this?” she whispered. “Where did this come from?”
“I— I don’t know,” Jas stammered, heart racing. They reached for the power button, but before they could press it, the screen went black again, and the lights flickered one last time before they went out completely.
The cabin was silent again, but the air felt different—charged with something they couldn’t explain.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Ivy Mae said, her voice low, almost uncertain. “What was that, Jas? Are we—are we really alone in all this?”
Jas stood up slowly, still staring at the blank screen. Their mind was racing, the image of the storm and the three men trapped in that tower burned into their thoughts.
“Maybe,” Jas said quietly, their voice barely above a whisper, “we’re not the only ones who were wrong about all of this.”
Ivy Mae didn’t reply, but the quiet realization settled in. The world had changed, but the change was something much deeper and stranger than they could have ever imagined.