Ethan woke to the faint sound of sizzling bacon and the rich aroma wafting through the air. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, taking in the mundanity of the moment. The small creaks of the house settling, the familiar hum of the refrigerator—it all felt so distant, like a cruel echo of something he knew would soon be gone.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he stood slowly. His body felt heavier than it should. The fat he thought he’d shed years ago was back, a constant reminder of how far he had to go.

Dakota was at the stove, flipping pancakes with a hum as he worked. Plates of bacon and eggs were already on the counter, and the radio played faintly in the background.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Dakota called over his shoulder when Ethan entered. "Thought I’d have to send a search party to wake you up."

Ethan pulled a chair out and sat at the table, running a hand through his hair. "I’m up," he muttered.

"You look like you wrestled a demon in your sleep," Dakota said with a smirk, placing a plate in front of Ethan. "Eat. You’ve got school in an hour."

Ethan stared at the food for a moment before picking up his fork. The sight of a normal breakfast twisted something deep inside him. He couldn’t stop thinking about how fragile it all was—how quickly this warmth, this stability, would be ripped away.

"You okay?" Dakota asked, sitting across from him. "You’re acting weird."

Ethan forced a small smile. "Yeah, just... thinking about stuff."

Dakota raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. "Alright. Well, don’t overthink it. You’ll pull a brain muscle."

The joke felt like an anchor, grounding him to the moment. "Thanks," Ethan said quietly. He forced himself to eat, knowing he’d need the energy.

Ethan chose to walk instead of taking the bus. The cold morning air helped clear his head, though his legs protested every step. His body was a far cry from the hardened survivor he had once been, but he refused to let that discourage him.

The streets were alive with the usual morning chaos—kids running to catch buses, parents shouting last-minute reminders, neighbors exchanging waves. It was almost peaceful.

But peace didn’t last.

As Ethan passed the park, a group of crows perched along the jungle gym caught his attention. Their eyes seemed to track him as he walked by, their feathers ruffling in the breeze.

"Not yet," he muttered to himself, quickening his pace. "Not yet."

The familiar chaos of the high school hallway hit him like a wave. Students laughed and shouted, lockers slammed, and the faint smell of cafeteria food clung to the air. Ethan moved through the crowd, his head low, feeling the sharp edge of his old insecurities digging in.

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"Hey, Graves!" The voice sent a jolt through him, his fists instinctively clenching.

Jake Cooper leaned casually against a row of lockers, his entourage flanking him like hyenas. "Still rocking those busted sneakers, huh? What is that, three years straight?"

Ethan didn’t respond, stepping to the side to avoid him.

"Hey!" Jake said, moving into his path. "I’m talking to you, nerd."

In the past, Ethan would’ve flinched or mumbled an apology, anything to avoid confrontation. But now? Now he felt nothing but disdain.

"You done?" Ethan said flatly, meeting Jake’s gaze.

The smirk faded from Jake’s face, replaced by confusion. "What’d you say to me?"

"You heard me." Ethan stepped around him, his heart pounding, but he refused to look back.

The hallway seemed to hold its breath. Jake’s friends exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to react to Ethan’s sudden boldness.

Ethan found Mason and Kyle at their usual table in the cafeteria. Mason was hunched over a sketchpad, scribbling notes on some half-baked gadget, while Kyle poked at the mystery meat on his tray with a look of mild disgust.

"Graves!" Mason said, grinning as Ethan sat down. "You’re actually here. What’s the occasion?"

Ethan glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot. "I need to talk to you guys later. After school."

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Why later? Spill it now."

Ethan shook his head. "Not here. Mason, your garage okay?"

Mason shrugged. "Yeah, sure. You’re being weird, though."

Ethan’s voice dropped. "It’s important."

The seriousness in his tone made both of them pause. Kyle leaned forward, frowning. "You’re not in trouble, are you?"

"Not yet," Ethan said. "Just... be there."

Mason’s garage was cluttered as always, the air thick with the smell of motor oil and solder. Kyle leaned against the workbench, sipping from a can of soda, while Mason fiddled with a circuit board.

"Alright, Graves," Mason said. "What’s so important it couldn’t wait?"

Ethan took a deep breath, his fists clenching and unclenching. "I need you to trust me," he said, his voice steady. "Something big is coming. Something that’s going to change everything."

"What kind of 'big'?" Kyle asked, his tone skeptical.

"People are going to start awakening," Ethan said. "Powers. Abilities. And it’s not just people. Animals, insects—everything’s going to mutate. The world’s going to fall apart, and if we’re not ready, we won’t survive."

Mason stared at him, his expression unreadable. "Graves, are you high?"

Ethan slammed his hand on the workbench, startling both of them. "This isn’t a joke!" he snapped. "I’m serious. You think I want to believe this? You think I want to live knowing everything we care about is going to burn?"

The outburst silenced them. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of Mason’s soldering iron.

Kyle sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright. Let’s say we believe you. What do you want us to do?"

Ethan relaxed slightly, the fire in his chest cooling. "I want you to trust me. Let me show you how to prepare. If I’m wrong, fine. But if I’m right..." He met their eyes. "...we’ll be the only ones ready."

Mason leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. "You’ve got some balls, Graves. Alright, I’m in. Worst case, we look like idiots. Best case... we survive."

Kyle nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. Sure. Let’s do it."

Later that night, Ethan went for a jog to clear his head. The cold air bit at his skin, but the ache in his legs felt good—real.

He was nearing the park when he saw it: a stray dog standing in the middle of the road. Its body twitched unnaturally, and its glowing eyes fixed on him with predatory intent.

Ethan froze, his breath catching in his throat.

"It’s too soon," he whispered.

The dog lunged, faster than anything that size should be. Ethan barely dodged, grabbing a stick from the ground. The fight was chaotic and brutal. The dog’s strength was inhuman, its movements erratic. When Ethan finally landed a solid blow to its head, it collapsed in a heap.

Panting, he crouched over it. A faint glow emanated from its chest—a small, pulsing core.

Ethan stared at it, his blood running cold. "It’s starting," he muttered.

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Time Until Cataclysm: 263 Days, 10 Hours, 34 Minutes.