The Author's Draft

Chapter 83 - 2: Seventy Hours I

The knock came maybe ten minutes after the summit broadcast ended.

Three sharp raps against the door, urgent but controlled. Aiden stood from his bed where he’d been watching the countdown in his vision tick down relentlessly, walked to the door and pulled it open.

His mother stood in the hallway, bags hanging from both shoulders and one hand gripping Callum’s arm like she was afraid he might disappear if she let go. She looked exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, her hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail that was already coming loose. Callum stood beside her, eighteen years old and trying very hard not to look as scared as he clearly was.

"Aiden," his mother breathed, and then she was pushing past him into the flat, dragging Callum along and dropping the bags in the middle of the room without ceremony. "Thank god you’re alright. The traffic was a nightmare, there were checkpoints everywhere, and the police kept trying to redirect us to Safe Zones, but I told them we were coming here first—"

"Mum." Aiden caught her by the shoulders, gently but firmly. "Breathe."

She stopped talking mid-sentence, her mouth still open, and took a shaky breath. Then another. Her hands came up to grip his arms, and Aiden realized she was trembling.

"How are you doing?" she asked, her voice tight with worry and barely controlled panic. "Have you seen the news? The sky, the rifts, those... those armies everyone’s talking about—"

"I’ve seen it," Aiden said quietly. He guided her toward the bed, the only proper seating in his tiny flat besides the desk chair. "Sit down. Both of you."

His mother sat but didn’t let go of his arm immediately. Callum moved the bags out of the way with his foot, then took the desk chair and spun it around to face the bed. The TV was still on in the background, showing continuing coverage of the summit and replaying footage of the emergency protocols being discussed.

Aiden helped his mother shrug off her coat, then Callum’s. The familiar motions—the simple domestic routine of welcoming family into his home—felt surreal against the backdrop of planetary invasion.

"You came prepared to stay," Aiden observed, glancing at the bags. Three of them, packed hastily judging by how clothes were sticking out of the zippers.

"Of course we did." His mother’s grip on his arm finally loosened. "We can’t go home right now, not with everything happening. Your father’s building is on lockdown, and he said..." Her voice cracked slightly. "He said he’d be safer there than trying to travel through the city. So I grabbed what I could and came to you."

She looked around the flat properly for the first time, taking in the small space with the critical eye only a mother could manage even during a crisis. The mold in the corner near the ceiling. The single bed pushed against one wall. The tiny kitchen area that was really just a counter with a kettle and a microwave. The bathroom door that didn’t quite close all the way.

"You’re still living here," she said, and there was something in her tone that made Aiden’s chest tighten. Not judgment exactly, but sadness mixed with maternal worry that he hadn’t managed to escape this place after thirteen years of trying.

"It’s cheap," Aiden replied, which was true even if it wasn’t the whole story. "And the landlord doesn’t ask questions."

His mother looked like she wanted to say something about that but bit it back. Instead, she turned her attention to Callum, who’d been sitting quietly and watching the TV with wide eyes.

"Cal got a message," she said, pulling out her phone with hands that still shook slightly. "From the Hunter Association. About the emergency awakening ceremonies."

She pulled up the notification and showed it to Aiden, even though he’d already received the same message himself. The mandatory notice requiring all eighteen-year-olds to report for testing within twenty-four hours.

"They need him to go for the test today or tomorrow at the latest," his mother continued, her voice tight with stress. "With everything happening, the sky, the rifts... I don’t understand what’s going on, but they’re saying it’s mandatory and there will be penalties if we don’t comply."

She looked at Aiden, her eyes searching his face. "You failed your awakening. You know how the process works, what to expect. Could you go with him? I know it’ll probably be crowded, but I’d feel better if Cal wasn’t alone in all this chaos."

Aiden nodded slowly. "Of course. I’ll take him."

His mother’s shoulders sagged slightly with relief, though the tension didn’t leave her face entirely. "Thank you. I just... I don’t know what else to do. Everything’s happening so fast."

"Mum." Aiden’s tone made her stop, made both her and Callum go quiet and attentive. "Before we go anywhere, we need to sit down and talk. There’s something important I need to tell you both."

She looked up at him with surprise, confusion flickering across her features. "What is it? Aiden, what could be more urgent right now than getting Cal to his test?"

"This is urgent," Aiden said gently but firmly. "Please. Just... trust me on this. We need to talk first."

His mother studied his face for a long moment, searching for something. Whatever she saw there made her nod slowly.

"Alright," she said quietly. "Alright, we’ll talk."

They moved the bags into Aiden’s bedroom properly, Callum helping to stack them against the wall near the wardrobe. The small space became even smaller with the luggage crammed inside, but at least it cleared the main room.

When they returned, Aiden’s mother sat on the bed with her back against the wall, trying to compose herself and failing to hide the tremor in her hands. Callum took the desk chair again, spinning it to face the room. Aiden stood near the window, the black sky and red lightning visible over his shoulder.

The countdown in his vision continued its relentless march.

[69:47:12... 69:47:11... 69:47:10...]