Alex's lungs burned as he ran, his legs pounding the cracked pavement. Smoke rose from every direction, turning the afternoon sky into a swirl of orange and gray. Buildings stood half-broken, cars overturned, glass scattered like frost on the ground.
The air was thick with chaos — sirens wailed, people screamed, and the distant hum of alien engines filled the streets like a dark melody.
But Alex didn't stop. He couldn't.
Every step brought him closer to the house — to Aunt Anna.
He turned a corner and froze.
The house was there — but barely. The once-white walls were blackened by smoke, the front door hanging off its hinges. And in the front yard, surrounded by two of the tall, pale creatures, was Aunt Anna.
"Aunt Anna!" Alex shouted.
She was on her knees, clutching a fallen plank as a shield while the aliens advanced. Their smooth, hairless skin gleamed faintly in the dim light, their long limbs moving with eerie precision. Their eyes — black, bottomless — fixed on her as they raised their strange weapons.
Without thinking, Alex dove behind a broken car. His hands shook as he scanned the ground — a discarded rifle, left by one of the neighborhood guards. He grabbed it, the metal cold and heavy in his grip.
"Leave her alone!" he yelled, bursting from behind cover.
The aliens turned, their pale faces expressionless. Alex squeezed the trigger. A burst of bullets ripped through the air, sparks flying as they struck the creatures. One staggered backward, a burst of blue mist erupting from its side. The other turned to fire, but Alex rolled to the side and fired again — one shot, two — until it fell.
Breathing hard, he sprinted toward Aunt Anna. "Come on!" he said, pulling her to her feet.
Her face was pale and streaked with ash, but her eyes softened when she saw him. "Alex," she whispered, her voice trembling with relief and pain. "You came back…"
"Of course I did!" he said. "We have to go — now!"
He led her into the house, slamming what was left of the door behind them. The inside was wrecked — furniture overturned, glass shattered, smoke curling through the rooms. He crouched near the window, firing a few rounds toward the shapes outside.
"Alex," Aunt Anna said, leaning against the wall, her breathing shallow.
"Stay down," he said quickly. "I'll hold them off. We'll get out through the back, I promise."
"Alex—"
He turned, but stopped cold.
Her hand was pressed to her side, blood seeping through her fingers. It ran down her arm, dark and glistening in the fading light.
"Aunt Anna…" His voice broke. "No, no, no…"
She tried to smile, but it came out weak. "I'm fine," she whispered. "It's just a scratch."
He dropped beside her. "That's not a scratch! You're bleeding — badly!" He tore a strip from his sleeve and pressed it against the wound. She winced but didn't push him away.
"I should've come home sooner," he said, his hands trembling. "I should've been here…"
"Alex, listen to me," she said softly, her voice beginning to fade. "You came when you could. That's what matters."
He shook his head, tears spilling down his face. "No, I could've saved you. I could've—"
"Hey." Her hand found his face, warm despite the cold creeping into her skin. She brushed her thumb across his cheek. "You've always been so brave. Don't you ever think this is your fault."
Outside, the sound of the aliens' weapons began to fade. Maybe they were moving on. Maybe they thought the house was empty. Inside, everything felt suspended — just the faint crackle of fire and the sound of Alex's ragged breathing.
Aunt Anna's eyes fluttered. "Alex… there's something you need to know."
He leaned closer. "What? Tell me."
"In the study," she whispered. "Behind your uncle's old picture frame… there's a key. It opens the safe… in the basement."
Her voice grew weaker. "They came… for what your parents found. Don't… let them…"
Her words trailed off into silence.
"Aunt Anna?" Alex said. He shook her gently. "Aunt Anna, stay with me!"
Her eyes opened for a moment — soft, distant. She smiled faintly, her hand rising to brush his chin, the way she always did when he was a boy.
"Stay strong," she whispered.
Then her hand fell. With her last breath the world around him grew colder.
Alex froze. The world seemed to collapse inward — no sound, no light, just the weight of her body in his arms. He pressed his forehead against hers, sobbing quietly.
"I can't lose you too," he said. "Please… not you…"
The last rays of sunlight slipped through the broken window, painting the floor in shades of gold and crimson. Outside, the city burned — but inside the house, everything was still.
He sat there for what felt like hours, holding her, the gun lying forgotten beside him. The smell of smoke and dust filled his lungs.
Then, slowly, he laid her down gently on the floor and covered her with the blanket from the couch. His hands lingered on her face for a moment — one last touch — before he stood.
He wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve, his face hardening. The pain in his chest throbbed like a heartbeat, but under it was something else — resolve.
He went into the study. The walls were cracked, shelves half-fallen, papers scattered everywhere. Above the fireplace hung an old framed photo — his uncle's portrait, smiling stiffly in a military uniform.
Alex remembered her words.
He lifted the frame, revealing a small safe behind it.
He searched until he found the key on the desk — half-buried under fallen books — and turned it in the lock.
The safe clicked open. Inside was a small black notebook, a folded piece of paper, and a glass vial — glowing faintly blue.
The same shade as the liquid from seven years ago.
His hands shook as he picked up the notebook. On the cover, in faded handwriting, was a single word: Herculite.
He opened it — pages filled with sketches, coordinates, equations he didn't understand. But one line stood out, underlined three times:
The light is the cure.
Behind him, a faint rumble shook the ground. The silence outside was breaking again — distant explosions, a new wave of alien ships overhead.
Alex looked down at the vial, the light pulsing softly between his fingers. He felt something stir inside him — fear, anger, grief — all twisting into something sharp and clear.
He knelt beside Aunt Anna one last time. "I'll find out what this is," he whispered. "I won't let your deaths go in vain."
The night deepened outside, the fires painting the sky red. Alex stepped into the doorway, rifle slung across his shoulder, the vial tucked safely into his pocket.
He didn't look back.