Mr. Chao dimmed the lights, and the classroom hushed as the first slide appeared on the projector—a breathtaking display of constellations shimmering against a pitch-black sky.
"Orbital: Constellation mechanics," he began, his voice calm yet commanding, "isn't just science. It's a reminder of the fleeting beauty we can observe in our universe. The stars we see are ancient, their light traveling for millions of years before reaching us. What we see today, others may not see centuries from now."
I leaned back in my chair, letting his words wash over me. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn't help but be drawn into the way he described the stars as storytellers, holding secrets and myths passed down through generations.
It was beautiful, but also strangely draining, as if the immensity of it all was a weight pressing down on the room.
By the time the bell rang, the energy in the classroom had evaporated.
Everyone shuffled out silently, heads bowed, the grandeur of Mr. Chao's words leaving us all lost in thought. Even Baihe, usually buzzing with commentary, seemed subdued.
"I need a nap," she muttered as we walked down the hallway. I just nodded, my mind too preoccupied to respond.
Before dismissing us, Mr. Chao had handed out a surprise assignment: observe the stars and write about what we saw, not just scientifically, but emotionally. It was due Friday—the day of the eclipse.
I didn't expect the assignment to bother me, but it did. The pressure of juggling my classes, track, and now this weighed on me. And, of course, Yike had to make it worse.
"Good luck coming up with something meaningful when you're barely paying attention," he said as we crossed paths at the lockers.
I glared at him. "I don't need luck. Unlike you, I can multitask."
He rolled his eyes but didn't say anything more.
Later that afternoon as I passed by the library door, my eyes found Yike , hunched over a stack of astronomy books and what looked like old school files. He was muttering to himself, his pencil flying across a notebook.
"Do you ever take a break?" I asked, leaning against the table.
He jumped, slamming the book shut. "What do you want?"
"Relax, I was just curious," I said, raising my hands defensively. "You're clearly working on something important."
Yike hesitated, glancing at the files as if deciding whether to share.
Finally, he sighed. "It's about the alignment. There's something strange about it, something that doesn't fit."
"Strange how?" I pressed, but he just shook his head.
"You wouldn't get it," he muttered, returning to his work. I watched him for a moment before walking away, a knot of unease forming in my stomach.
Jia's car was parked by the gate, the windows rolled down as she waved enthusiastically from the driver's seat. My sister was always a stark contrast to me—easygoing, unbothered by the world's chaos. She leaned over to open the passenger door for me as I approached.
"You look like you've been through war," Jia teased, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head.
"Feels like it," I muttered, dropping my bag onto the floor of the car. "You'd think people would be excited about the eclipse, but instead a few people starts losing their minds."
"Well, at least I'm here to rescue you from all that madness," Jia said brightly. "Buckle up, and you can tell me all about it on the way home."
I slid into the seat, pulling on the seatbelt as she steered the car into the afternoon traffic. As we wove through the streets, I told her about the upcoming celestial event that she shared the other day and now half of the class got distracted by it.
Jia's expression growing more serious with each detail.
"You think it's real?" she asked as we slowed at a stoplight. "The alignment of an eclipse with daylight savings, I mean."
"I don't know," I admitted. "It sounds ridiculous, but… something's definitely happening."
She tapped the steering wheel in thought, the silence between us punctuated by the hum of the engine.
Finally, she said, "Well, whatever it is, let's not let it ruin the rest of the day. We'll figure it out later."
Jia turned the steering wheel sharply, pulling the car into our driveway.
As the engine quieted, the stillness of the neighborhood was almost eerie. I stepped out and glanced at the empty street.
Something about the day felt... off. And now with practice canceled and Coach visiting his mother, my usual routine had been disrupted—leaving too much time for my thoughts to spiral.
I lingered near the mailbox, absently flipping through a stack of letters. That's when I saw it—a plain white envelope with no return address.
My name was scrawled across the front in the same sharp handwriting as the note from earlier.
Heart pounding, I ripped it open and pulled out the single piece of paper inside.
The message was short but chilling:
"The eclipse marks the beginning, not the end. Be ready."
I crumpled the note in frustration, shoving it into my pocket as I stormed inside. I couldn't keep ignore this.
Whoever was leaving these messages knew something about the alignment, and I was done waiting for answers to fall into my lap.
My thoughts immediately jumped to Yike—he had to know more than he was letting on.
Grabbing my phone, I sent him a message: "We need to talk. Now."
Minutes later, my screen lit up with his curt reply: "Library. Don't waste my time."
I told Jia I'd be back soon and set off using my bike. I heard Jia shouting my name , however my determination outweighing the nagging unease in my chest.
The library was mostly deserted when I arrived, the setting sun casting long, golden shadows through the tall windows.
Yike sat at a corner table, his head buried in a notebook. He didn't look up as I approached.
"Okay, start talking," I said, dropping into the seat across from him. "What's going on, and why am I getting notes about the eclipse?"
Yike finally looked up, his expression unreadable. "So you've noticed it too," he said, his voice low.
"Noticed what?" I snapped. "The weird behavior from students earlier were happy about our won and then it goes to the celestial mystery ? The tension between us? The note in the mailbox? Of course I've noticed! But none of it makes sense, and you're clearly not telling me everything."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, he looked genuinely conflicted. "I don't know who's leaving you those notes, but they're not wrong. The alignment isn't just some rare celestial event. It's…" He paused, searching for the right words. "It's a trigger."
"A trigger for what?" I pressed, my frustration mounting.
"Chaos," he said simply. "You've seen it already—people acting out of character, the fights, the accidents. The alignment is amplifying something in us, like a wave pulling at everything beneath the surface. And it's only going to get worse."
I stared at him, struggling to process his words. "How do you even know all this?"
"I've been digging through records," he admitted.
"There was an eclipse like this one in the past, and the same things happened—tensions, violence, even… disappearances. It didn't stop until the alignment was over."
The weight of his words settled over me, cold and heavy. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"
He shook his head.
"Who would believe me? They'd just think I'm being paranoid—or worse, trying to scare people. Besides that, this time it's transitioning with daylight savings."
"What are we supposed to do? Just wait it out and hope for the best?" I said, my voice rising despite the quiet of the library.
Yike leaned forward, his expression intense. "We can't stop it, but we can be prepared. Whoever's leaving you those notes—they're right. This is just the beginning."