Mikael looked up towards the sky as the Finnish winter cast its serene, icy blanket over the countryside. The snowstorm just a few days prior had transformed the landscape into a picturesque scene of snow-laden trees and frosted fields.

Dressed in a thick, insulated jacket and a woolen beanie, he exhaled a visible breath into the crisp air. His youthful face, framed by his tight and high haircut, was flushed from the cold. But as Mikael’s boots crunched softly in the fresh snow while walking towards his family's home, he glanced down to see pop out of the door.

“MIkael!” She yelled running towards him at full tilt.

Mikael's heart swelled with joy as he heard his sister's voice calling out his name. It had been six long months since he had last seen his family, and seeing such an enthusiastic greeting was something he had been looking forward to. He opened his arms wide, expecting a warm, loving embrace that usually greeted him after his prolonged absences.

However, as Enni approached, something felt amiss. She didn't slow down as he expected, her pace remaining steady and determined. Mikael's instincts kicked in just a moment too late as Enni, instead of hugging him, launched herself at him with surprising force.

In an unexpected move, she tackled him at the waist, lifting his legs in a motion that was more akin to a wrestling move than a sisterly greeting. The momentum sent both of them tumbling into the snow, with Mikael landing on his back and Enni on top, both covered in a dusting of fresh snow.

For a moment Mikael laid there stunned, looking up at the sky now framed by his sister's grinning face. "Enni! What the hell!?" he exclaimed, half laughing and half gasping for air.

With ino laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You've been gone for too long! I had to make sure you haven't gone soft in the military," she teased, helping him up.

“Soft!?” Mikael exclaimed in mock outrage before quickly recovering from his initial surprise and shifting into a defensive position he had learned during his conscription. Wrapping his legs around Enni’s waist, he pulled her down into a full guard, a move that was part of his basic training in the Finnish Defense Forces. "Soft, she says!" Mikael teased, keeping a firm grip on his sister. "If only you knew the 'kenttäkeittiö' life!"

Enni struggled playfully, trying to break free from his hold. "Oh, so you're a tough 'intti' guy now, huh!?" she challenged, laughing.

As they playfully wrestled in the snow, Mikael continued with his exaggerated tales of military life, his tone light but filled with pride for the skills he had acquired. "And don't even get me started on those shitty battle drills where you crawl through the mud and pretend you're some action movie hero!"

The two giggled and rolled in the snow until the door flew open once again until their father appeared in the doorway with a mix of amusement and exasperation on his face. "Perkele, Mikael ja Armas! Lopettakaa se hulluttelu heti!" Jukka called out in Finnish, his voice booming across the snowy yard. He then seamlessly transitioned to English, a tactic he often used to drive his point home. "Stop fooling around, you two! You're going to bring half this shit into the house!"

Mikael and Armas paused, looking up at their father, who stood with his hands on his hips, a knowing smile playing on his lips despite his stern words.

“Stop being idiots and come on in, your mothers busy cooking and she wants to see you!” The father continued, his tone light-hearted yet firm. "And you better clean up before coming in, or I'll hose you down right here in the snow!"

The siblings exchanged a quick glance and then burst into laughter, realizing they had indeed turned themselves into snow-covered messes. But as soon as their father moved for the house, they knew he wasn't joking. They quickly stood up, brushing off the snow from their clothes as best as they could.

"Alright, alright!" Mikael relented with his hand raised over his head in surrender. "We're coming in. Just no hosing, please!"

When Mikael and Armas finally made their way towards the house, their father narrowed his eyes at the two siblings as they continued to shake off the remnants of their snowy tussle. But as they stepped inside, Mikael was immediately greeted by a chorus of cheers and shouts of "Welcome back!"

The cozy living room was packed with Mikael's closest friends and family, all gathered to celebrate his return after completing his conscription training. The atmosphere was one of joy and pride, with bright smiles and warm embraces shared all around. The room was filled with the comforting scents of home cooking, the sound of laughter, and the soft glow of the fireplace.

Mikael's mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a paper towel as she beamed at her son. "Mikael!" she exclaimed, rushing over to envelop him in a tight hug. "We're so proud of you!"

His father pat Mikael on the back firmly, before joining in on the hug with a proud smile on his face. "You've done well, son. We've all missed you."

One by one, Mikael's friends came forward, clapping him on the back, shaking his hand, and sharing jokes and stories. Among them were his childhood friends, Joonas and Antti, who were both eager to catch up on all the missed time.

“One of us!” They yelled as they both enveloped Mikael in a playful yet heartfelt group hug. Joonas and Antti, slightly older than Mikael, had already completed their own stints in the conscription and were well-versed in what he had faced.

"You're finally a part of the veterans club now, Mikael!" Joonas joked, giving him a friendly nudge. "No more greenhorn status for you."

Antti chimed in, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Yeah, now you can join us in complaining about the early mornings and endless drills."

The men in the room all erupted into laughter, nodding in agreement. They all went through the miserable yet oddly rewarding experience that came with conscription in Finland Each of them, at one point or another, had woken up before dawn to crawl around in the mud or lay in some god forbidden snow covered fox hole simulating ambushes. They’ve all endured long marches through the harsh forest covered in head to toe with anti tank mines, and dragged their buddy along after they had been ‘wounded’.

Mikael, feeling a surge of pride and belonging, joined in the conversation, sharing his own tales from the recent months. "You guys remember that 30-kilometer trek with full gear? Ya, that was a shitty experience," he said, rolling his eyes in mock frustration.

“Enough, Enough.” Mikael’s mother waved her hand silencing the group. “The food is ready, come, let's eat already!”

The jovial atmosphere in the room shifted as Mikael's mother made her announcement and like ravenous dogs everyone's attention turned towards the dining room. There laid on the massive dining table were an array of piping hot dishes with delicious smells wafting through the air, signaling that a hearty, home-cooked meal was ready.

Silence reigned as each member liked their lips like starving scavengers, eyeing each other and the food with equal intensity. The unspoken rule of 'first come, first served' hung in the air, everyone poised on the edge of their seats, ready to make a dash for the first serving.

However, before chaos could ensue, Mikael's mother, fully aware of the impending mess her 'buffoons' were about to create, raised her voice. "Ei, ei, ei! Stop right there!" she commanded in a tone that brooked no argument. The room froze, everyone looking sheepishly at her.

She then turned and gestured towards Mikael's father. "Jukka, you first," she said, a smile playing on her lips.

With a massive smug grin, Mikael’s father rose separated from the group. Enjoying the moment of being the privileged first he walked towards the table grabbed the serving spoon in hand and tantalizingly dipped it into the salmon soup while the rest of the group glared at him with a mix of resentment and hatred.

“Why does he get to go first!? Isn’t this my party!?” Mikael protested, shooting a look to his mother with a pout.

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His mother shot back a sharp look, the kind that only mothers can give, and retorted, "Shut up, Mikael. You'll get your turn." Her voice was stern yet tinged with affection.

Knowing better than to argue further, Mikael looked away and muttered under his breath, "Just saying..."

A chorus of laughter erupted from the exchange while Mikael's friends nudged him playfully, teasing him about still being under his mother's thumb.

The rest of the family and guests proceeded to serve themselves in an orderly fashion, filling their plates with the sumptuous spread laid out before them. The meal was a feast for the senses, with traditional Finnish dishes like salmon soup, Karelian pasties, and mouth-watering roast meats.

As they all sat down to eat, the room buzzed with conversation and laughter. Stories about school and conscription were told, jokes crude and innocent were shared, and heartfelt memories were recounted. It was a moment of heartfelt reunion, a celebration of Mikael's return, and a testament to the strong bonds of family and friendship that held them all together in their small, tight knit community.

“Gah, don’t get me started on the KVKK!” Mikael groaned, rolling his eyes and waving his hand dismissively. “That old, ugly piece of shit should have been replaced long ago! At least give us MG3’s!!”

A chorus of agreements echoed around the table from the males. “Right? I mean Germany is just right there!” Joonas gestured aggressively where he assumed south was. “I mean we’re in NATO now! Why can’t we have any of the good stuff!?”

The lively dinner atmosphere continued as plates were passed around and everyone dug into the hearty meal. Amidst the clinking of cutlery and laughter, the conversation naturally veered back to their shared experiences in the military.

Armas, after taking a hearty bite of his Karelian pasty, leaned back and sighed. "You know what I don't miss? Those damn bicycles.” He said with a mouth full of food. “Carrying those god damn bicycles around was so fucking annoying. Just let me walk.”

“At least you’re not in America right now.” Mikael’s father spoke up with a piece of Finnish rye bread with a salmon spread on top.

The conversation paused for a moment as everyone at the table absorbed Jukka's comment. There was a collective understanding that the topic was shifting to something more serious. The recent events in America, particularly the combat footage that had been circulating on the news, had caught everyone's attention.

Joonas, with a slightly more somber tone, turned to Mikael. "Did you see the combat footage from over there? With those... What were they, werewolves?"

Mikael nodded, his expression turning contemplative as he poked at the last bit of his salmon soup. "Yeah, I saw it," he said, scratching his head. "It was... brutal. Nothing like what we've trained for."

Armas, who had been quietly sipping her glass of milk, chimed in, His voice tinged with concern. "As cool as that air war was, with those flying lizards and all, it must have been hell for the pilots. Imagine staying awake for over 36 hours, locked in that cockpit, only to land, re-arm, and go right back up. No rest, no mercy."

The table fell silent as each person lost themselves in their thoughts. The idea of an entire world invading another seemed like something straight out of a movie or a video game, but here they were. Nevertheless, as they continued to talk about the strange monsters from another world, the group's contemplation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing.

Enni's eyes lit up as she glanced at the caller ID. "It's Juho!" she exclaimed, her tone shifting from concern to excitement. Juho, her and Mikael's older brother, was serving in the professional Finnish army and was typically busy with his own exercises and duties.

Mikael looked up, a small smile forming on his face. "Juho? Maybe he's calling to congratulate me," he mused, feeling a surge of pride at the thought of his brother acknowledging his completion of conscription.

However, as Enni answered the phone, her expression quickly shifted from excitement to worry. "Juho? What do you mean, 'turn on the TV'?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion and concern.

After a brief conversation, she hung up and walked over to the television. "Juho said to switch to the news. Something's happening," she said, her voice laced with unease.

The room grew quiet as everyone's attention turned to the television. Enni changed the channel to a news station, where an emergency NATO announcement was being broadcasted. The NATO Secretary-General, a former Swedish General named Gustav Lindberg, stood near the podium, addressing his colleagues in Brussels, Belgium, the headquarters of NATO.

Camera’s snapped incessantly and whispers all around the grand hall resounded as the camera focused on General Lindberg. His expression was grave, and the urgency in his voice was unmistakable.

And then the room came to an intense quiet as Secretary General Lindberg stepped towards the podium.

The Secretary General looked out at the audience with a steady and resolute gaze before he turned slightly to acknowledge the cameras that were live-streaming his address to millions worldwide. He cleared his throat, the sound echoing slightly in the hushed room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the North Atlantic Council and allies across the globe," he began, his voice calm but carrying a weight that filled the room.

In every house, in every room, breathes were collectively held as the Secretary General paused, adjusting and readying himself for his next few words. It was as if the world itself had stopped to listen. Mikael, along with his family and friends, leaned in closer, their eyes fixated on the screen.

"I address you today in Brussels, the heart of our sacred alliance, under unprecedented circumstances.” The audience, a mix of hardened journalists and seasoned diplomats, stiffened as they listened. “As our meeting is being live-streamed to millions across the world." His eyes briefly glanced at a screen showing images of dragons in the skies and mythical creatures on the streets. "Screens in homes and public spaces alike are filled with images that defy belief. Creatures of myth and legend soaring through the skies and walking through the streets."

"We find ourselves in a moment of history that we, in a thousand years, could never have even fathomed." He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in. "The United States of America, a pillar of our alliance, has endured an unprovoked and barbaric attack that claimed the lives of thousands and displaced countless others.”

Mikael's heart pounded in his chest as he listened, the words of the Secretary General painting a stark and harrowing picture. He could see the disbelief and worry etched on the faces of his family and friends.

“Even now, the death count rises as emergency services continue to identify the fallen.” The Secretary General said with a cold, yet calm rage in his voice. “This is not merely an act of war as we know it. This is an invasion of our reality by forces unknown and beyond our current understanding."

"The North Atlantic Treaty Organization," Lindberg continued, "has always stood for the collective defense of our member states against any threat to their territorial integrity and security. And today, our great and esteemed ally has invoked Article 5 of the Washington Treaty.”

The room fell into a stunned silence as they all looked at each other. A loud yet hushed murmur then swept the grand hall as Lindberg stood patiently for a moment before his powerful voice resounded once more.

“And we WILL answer that call.” He said grabbings at the edges of the podium.

Secretary General Lindberg's presence on the screen emanated a sense of calm determination, his words carefully chosen to convey both the gravity of the situation and the strength of NATO's resolve. "At this very moment," he asserted, "we are mobilizing NATO forces to extend our full support and aid to the United States in response to this threat. Our unity is our strength, and together we will work tirelessly to safeguard our people and uphold the principles we hold dear."

He continued with a steady voice imbued with a sense of righteousness, "This is an extraordinary situation that demands an extraordinary response. Our alliance, forged through the fires of war and tempered in the commitment to peace and security, is now faced with a challenge unlike any we have ever known. But I assure you, we are prepared to meet this challenge with unwavering resolve and an unshakable commitment."

He looked directly into the camera, his eyes conveying a fierce determination. "To the people of the United States of America, I say this: You are not alone. We stand united, and unbreakable."

“To our citizens watching, to our allies, and to the world, let it be known: NATO stands together or not at all.” His voice grew firmer.

Turning a page on his stack of papers, Lindberg wore a solemn yet determined expression. "We are convening an emergency session to coordinate our response and mobilize our forces.” He said, lifting the page and tapping it on the podium to straighten them. “We will then provide support, share intelligence, and deploy the necessary resources to aid our American allies."

The room was silent, each word resonating with profound significance. "In accordance with the principles of the North Atlantic Treaty and in response to this situation, I officially invoke Article 5. An attack on one is an attack on all."

The Secretary General paused briefly, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "This evening, I will be informing the Secretary General of the United Nations of our decision and the steps we are taking. We will work closely with our international partners to address this crisis in a unified and coordinated manner."

Lindberg then straightened up, his eyes scanning the room one last time. "Thank you," he said simply, before turning and stepping away from the podium and walking away.

Pulling out the device, his eyes quickly scanned the screen, lighting up with a flood of notifications. His commander's name flashed repeatedly, accompanied by a daunting tally: 20 missed calls and a solitary text message. The room's attention shifted to him, a mix of concern and curiosity etched on their faces.

Before anyone could voice the myriad of questions hanging in the air, Mikael broke the silence with a quiet, somber tone.

"They’re calling me back," he said, his eyes not leaving the screen. "I have orders to return to the barracks by tomorrow morning."