The permanent eclipse

It's what o'clock?

Mikey stirred awake to an overwhelming, suffocating silence. It wasn't just quiet—it was the kind of stillness that made your ears strain for even the faintest sound, the kind that felt wrong. His head throbbed from last night's drinks, and the stale smell of beer and crisps lingered in the air. He groaned, sitting up on the battered couch in the flat above the Stillsard Arms.

The first thing he noticed was the dark.

Not the soft, shadowed kind of dark that clung to the edges of Birmingham's streets at night. Not the grey-black of clouds swallowing the city during a storm. This was absolute. There was no moonlight creeping through the curtains, no glow from the streetlights below. Even the faint hum of the pub's old fridge was gone.

Mikey rubbed his face, his breath catching in his chest. He glanced around the flat. Leo and Nancy were tangled together on the floor, their heads sharing a pillow in an almost comedic contrast to their usual chaos. Eli was slumped in a beanbag, his blanket cocooned around him. Archie and Canny were sprawled on the other couch, her hand resting loosely on his chest.

"Just a power cut," Mikey muttered to himself, though the words felt hollow. Even in a blackout, there should've been something—headlights from the odd car outside, the glow of a cigarette from a passing stranger. But there was nothing. The windows were black mirrors reflecting the room's chaos back at him.

He stood, careful not to trip over the debris from the night before, and shuffled toward the kitchen. As he pushed the door open, he nearly jumped.

Elanise was already there, standing by the window. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her silhouette barely visible against the faint outline of the glass.

"Elanise?" Mikey whispered, his voice hoarse.

She didn't turn. Her posture was stiff, her shoulders tense as though she were bracing herself. "Mikey," she said softly, her voice trembling. "Look."

Mikey hesitated, then joined her at the window. What he saw made his stomach drop.

Nothing.

Not a single streetlight, not the faintest glow from the horizon. The world outside was consumed by an endless, featureless void. Even the stars, the faint pinpricks of light that sometimes fought their way through Birmingham's light pollution, were gone.

He felt a chill crawl up his spine. "Where's the moon?" he muttered, more to himself than her.

"I don't know," Elanise whispered. "I've been staring out here since I woke up, hoping it would change. But it's just... this."

Mikey pressed his hand against the glass, as though he could push through it and make sense of the nothingness beyond. His heart pounded in his chest.

"Have you woken anyone else?" he asked.

She shook her head, finally tearing her gaze away from the window to look at him. Her eyes were wide, the fear in them unmistakable. "No. I didn't know how to... explain this."

Mikey nodded, his mouth dry. "We need to wake them. Archie—he'll know what to do."

Five Hours Earlier

The clock on Aiden's wall blinked 4:07 a.m., though the cheap digital display had been stuck on 4:07 for weeks. Not that anyone in the room noticed or cared. The small bungalow was thick with smoke, laughter, and the kind of bleary-eyed exhaustion that only comes from a night of drinking, smoking, and whatever else Aiden could scrounge up for the party.

Lucy and Aadam sat on the worn-out couch in the lounge, the room cluttered with mismatched furniture and ashtrays overflowing onto the coffee table. Across from them, Aiden leaned back in an armchair, a joint dangling lazily from his fingers, his eyes glassy but still sharp enough to scan the room.