The day the sky changed began so ordinarily that no one thought to remember it, and perhaps that was the cruelest detail of all, because disaster often prefers quiet entrances, slipping into the world without announcement, without thunder, without the courtesy of warning bells. The morning had been pale and warm, the kind that carried the scent of distant rain even though the forecast promised nothing but dry air, and the town moved through its routines with sleepy confidence, unaware that above them something vast and ancient had already begun to gather.Evan Mercer stood outside his small bookstore on Alder Street, brushing invisible dust from the wooden sign that swung gently over the entrance, his thoughts fixed on unpaid invoices and the stubborn leak in the ceiling that refused to be repaired properly. He was not a dramatic man, nor a particularly brave one; he was simply curious by nature, the sort of person who noticed details others ignored, the faint crack in a windowpane, the unusual quiet of birds before dusk, the way
The day the sky changed began so ordinarily that no one thought to remember it, and perhaps that was the cruelest detail of all, because disaster often prefers quiet entrances, slipping into the world without announcement, without thunder, without the courtesy of warning bells. The morning had be...