They Were Never Here — Part 9: The Shifting Sky

 The sky was different that night. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it was as if the stars had shifted positions, like the whole cosmos had been rearranged without our consent. The darkness was deeper, thicker. The rain, too, had changed—it wasn’t just cold anymore, it was sharp, like it carried some unspoken message that pricked at my skin.

Sam kept saying he had seen them. The aliens. He’d told me in hushed tones, over and over, but it never made sense. Not until that night.

We were walking through the streets, the world alive with people—awake people. Everyone moving like ghosts, remembering things they weren’t ready for. The weight of their shared past hung heavy, like the air before a storm. And then, like a crack splitting through the silence, we heard it.

A low hum. Subtle at first, but it grew. Rattling windows. Vibrating in the air. It wasn’t natural. And it wasn’t distant.

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, his face pale. “They’re here,” he said, voice shaky. “I—I know what they are.”

I turned, following his gaze, and I saw it. A massive shape, shrouded in darkness, hovering just above the horizon. It wasn’t a ship, not in the way we thought of them. It was more like... a presence. A giant, invisible mass, its form too complex, too alien to be fully understood. But I knew one thing for sure.

It was watching us.

The Resistance had warned of an invasion, but this wasn’t what I’d imagined. This was something different. Something far older, far more ancient.

Sam's grip on my arm tightened. “They’re not here to invade us. They’re here to wake us up.” His eyes were wide, almost desperate. “They’re going to make us remember everything—everything—and we’re not going to survive it.”

I didn’t know what to say. The words felt hollow. It was like everything I had known, everything I had fought for, was about to be unraveled.

And then the humming stopped. Silence. Deep, oppressive silence.

For a moment, I thought the world had stopped.

And then... the sky split.

A thin crack, cutting across the heavens like lightning, only it wasn’t a storm. It was something else. Something far, far older.

I heard it then—the voices. Echoes. Whispers. In languages I couldn’t understand, but they were calling out to me. To us. The air around us grew thick, like the atmosphere itself had changed, rippling as if the very fabric of reality had been bent.

The first few people who looked up screamed. Others ran, stumbling over each other in terror. The Resistance had been preparing for this, but it didn’t matter. No one had prepared for this. How could you?

Sam was shaking now, clutching at his head. “I—I can hear them,” he gasped. “They’re inside my head. It’s too much—too much.” He staggered, but I caught him before he fell.

“They’ve been inside our heads the whole time,” I whispered, realizing something that had been hidden beneath the surface all along. “It’s why we’ve forgotten. They’ve been pulling the strings. They’re—they’ve always been here.”

Sam nodded, his face pale. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. They’re pushing into me, pushing into all of us. I can feel their memories trying to drown mine.”

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run, to hide, but there was no escape. This was the endgame. The awakening was never just about remembering—it was about being remembered by them.

I pulled Sam closer, my heart racing. “We need to get to the Resistance. We need to—”

But before I could finish, the sky shifted again. The air was electric, alive with the force of something coming. Something that was no longer content to stay in the shadows.

And then they came.

Shapes. Flickers in the sky, barely perceptible at first. But then... they were everywhere. Like shadows in the corner of your eye, fleeting yet undeniable. People screamed. They pointed at nothing, at everything. Some tried to run, but it was like the very ground had turned to mud, slowing their escape. Others just stood there, eyes wide and blank.

They didn’t just want to remember us. They wanted to consume us.

It wasn’t long before we saw the first of them, sliding out of the darkness, their forms shifting in ways that made my stomach churn. They weren’t entirely physical, not in the way we understood, but they were real. They moved like smoke, yet their presence was solid, anchored to the earth. And they were coming for us.

Sam let out a strangled cry, his hands clawing at his own face. “Make it stop! I can’t... I can’t remember any more!”

I held him tight, trying to shield him, but I knew deep down: we were all already lost. They were here to finish what they’d started—to undo us completely.

And no one would be safe until the last person had remembered... everything.