Cloudy. 3mph winds blowing east. Forty degrees fahrenheit. 

Over time the winter storm waned, weakening until it turned into light snowfall, then to a mere coat of white clouds covering the sky. The citizens of Nur slowly left their homes, no longer plagued by the glowing red virus. A few more graves filled the town cemetery to the grief of many, but even the abundant funerals waned and ceased with time. After the last of the fallen were buried, the cemetery remained untouched for a long time, going from a tragic site that the town visited regularly to a beautiful series of treasured monuments. The largest headstone at the front of the graveyard, ordained with dozens and dozens of flowers and gifts, read as such: 

Ecat “Copycat” Sastrugi

3277-3294 ZST

The only thing surpassing the tragedy in the town was the shock of the true nature of the planet they lived on, a new lifeform of unfathomable proportions. A higher being. Though the discoveries this would set in motion would not be realized until much later. 

One day, after helping with reconstruction, Azer met his friends at Grano’s diner. Azer took a window seat and tried to look outside, but a thin layer of snow from the latest snowstorm obscured his view. He made a glove-covered fist and bumped the window, knocking some snow off. Reflecting in the glass were his friends’ faces, looking at him expectantly. 

Azer turned to face them. They were all still wearing their winter clothes—Grif, a thin-looking dark green jacket, Milo, a thick vest over a long-sleeved shirt with snow encrusting the top of the sleeves, Saa, a large winter coat with fuzz around the hood, and Azer with his own brown winter jacket a size too large. He liked the way he could tuck his hands into the sleeves when it got cold. Azer took off his gloves. 

“I’ll state the obvious. We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” Azer said. 

The words resonated through the other three, though none of them flinched. Milo’s scar from Kovaki’s attack twitched almost subliminally. 

“It’s a miracle we’re all still here,” Milo commented. 

It was still overcast outside. It had been for many months now. The sky was still the same bright, desaturated gray as the ground. 

“How do we even begin to process what’s happened?” Azer said. “I mean everything. It’s like our whole lives have been chaotic from start to finish. The fact that it’s just… over now… is so hard to believe. Grif and I have been intertwined with everything from the beginning, and we dragged you all into it, and, amazingly, still came out of it as friends.” 

Milo frowned, but there was no unhappiness in his face. 

“Dragged us into it? Buddy, we were a part of it the moment our parents decided to live on this planet. You and Grif dragged us out of it. This group—all of us–” Milo gestured around the table. “There’s nobody else I’d want to be friends with.” 

“Thanks, Milo.” 

The waiter passed menus to the four of them. Grano’s Diner, like many other restaurants in Nur, had seasonal menus, changing substantially by the season. The menus they had just been handed featured an entire corner dedicated to different types of hot drinks. The four of them ordered, then turned to each other once more. 

“Hey, Azer, Grif,” Saa started, “You know what’s bugged me ever since you guys told us about what Manim said? About the Magna virus?”

“What?” said Grif. 

“Who put it here?” Saa asked. “The Magna virus isn’t even a virus. It’s a weapon. And you guys said the planet said someone ‘put it here’ long ago. Who the hell was that?”

“The Schisms?” Grif suggested. 

“No, it can’t be,” Saa said, waving a hand. “The Schisms almost died from the virus, right?”

“Maybe they lost control of their own weapon?” Grif said. 

“But then why go through the trouble of rescuing the Hivanians? Wouldn’t they put it there to kill the Hivanians?” 

Azer sent his memory back thousands of years ago, Remembering what happened the day the Schisms took the Hivanians off of an ancient Manim. 

“It couldn’t have been the Schisms,” Azer added. “They were benevolent. I can see it.” 

“Who else could it have been?” Grif said. “The Schisms were the first ones ever to master space travel. They did it while every other species in Zysti was hunting and gathering.”

“The first ones we know,” Saa corrected. “What about their ship? The Kaari, was it? Who the hell built that?” 

“Part of me wants to know,” Milo commented, his face grim, “but part of me thinks we shouldn’t ask any more questions. Some things might be better off staying unknown.” 

Azer felt a small, brief pang. Part of him disagreed. Something in him still hungered to know. The four of them went silent for a moment. 

“Do you guys think,” Saa said, “we’ll ever fully recover? This town?”

“I don’t think we’ll ever fully recover,” Milo said. “Not fully. I still think about Torbe a lot. I still miss him.” 

“I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I’ll never attend one of Mrs. Korca’s science classes again,” Grif said. “Or do a Team Virga mission.” 

Then, Azer had a sudden idea. He jerked up, and the others looked at him. 

“Why do we have to let Team Virga die just because the members are gone? There’s still the four of us. No matter what happens to us, no matter how long it takes to recover, we’ll do it together. How does that sound?” 

Everyone looked between each other, but there was no dissent. Grif bumped Azer’s shoulder. 

“Now there’s a good idea,” Grif said with an ear-to-ear grin.

Everyone’s food came, each dish served with a steaming mug of warm drink. They each picked up their drinks. 

“A toast,” Saa started, “to the new Team Virga. To the town. To our friendship.” 

They all clinked mugs. 

Eventually, the gloomy snow and winter weather gradually took on a different context. Azer and Grif would return to their home after days of work and, for the first time in their lives, they would simply live. A type of calm and peace came to their lives that they had never known, a chance to sit in the window and watch the snow fall with a hot drink in hand without a single other care in the world. 

And they could still find it in them to make a jolly snowman, 

And the light and beautiful snowflakes would still fall,

And sleds would still be carried up and ridden down hills.

Children would still play, and the adults, too,

Friends would still hug,

Lovers would still love,

Smiles would still cross everyone’s faces,

And all the wounds of the world would heal. 

And one day, somehow, in some way,
The inhabitants of Nur all knew it was time to go outside,

In pajamas and robes and slippers and shoes,

Alone or together, out in the snow,

And they all looked up

And, finally, between the stark clouds coating the sky…

The sun came out.