DAY ONE - MORNING:

  NATIONAL AERONAUTICS AND SPACE ADMINISTRATION - HOUSTON, TEXAS:

  "It's no longer possible to maintain the official position," Dr. Green announced, her voice carrying through the stunned silence of the emergency briefing room. "The object is now visible to the naked eye worldwide, even during daylight hours."

  The NASA Administrator ran a trembling hand over his face, decades of professional composure finally crumbling under the weight of what they faced. "How long until full solar occlusion?"

  "Approximately fifty-six hours," Dr. Green replied, bringing up the trajectory model on the main display. "The object continues to accelerate on its approach vector. Current estimated diameter is 8,718 miles—approximately one-point-one times Earth's size."

  "And the gravitational effects?"

  "Catastrophic and accelerating. We're registering tidal disruptions at unprecedented scales. The oceanic shelf collapses along the Pacific Rim have triggered tsunami events that will reach North American western coastlines within hours."

  The Administrator studied the room of haggard scientists and engineers—humanity's finest minds reduced to helpless observers of cosmic forces beyond their control or comprehension.

  "What about the public statements?" someone asked.

  "The White House has authorized full disclosure," the Administrator replied. "God help us all."

  SOCIAL MEDIA - WORLDWIDE:

  The barriers had finally broken. After weeks of algorithmic suppression, account suspensions, and coordinated messaging, the dam of official silence shattered completely as billions of people worldwide shared their unfiltered observations of the massive celestial body now dominating Earth's skies.

  @NormalGuacachino86: It's just... hanging there. Like a second moon but MASSIVE. Dark red-brown with swirling patterns. I can't stop staring at it. #Nibiru

  @Peli_can_13: To my colleagues who participated in the suppression campaign: history will not judge you kindly. We could have had weeks to prepare. #TheOrb #Disclosure

  @MomPrepper4All: My children are terrified. Schools closed. Stores emptied. No official instructions except "remain calm." HOW? #Nibiru

  @FormerNASAluver: The gravitational effects alone will be civilization-ending. Forget asteroid impacts or solar flares. The tidal forces will reshape Earth's surface within days. #Nibiru #TechnicalAnalysis

  @Coastal2Coastal: Witnessing massive ocean retreat along entire California coastline. Harbor completely dry. Ships grounded. Everyone fleeing inland. Tsunami warning sirens non-stop. #WestCoastEvacuation

  @InPlainSight666: WE TOLD YOU!!! FOR YEARS WE TOLD YOU!!! BUT YOU CALLED US CRAZY!!! #Nibiru #VindicationTooLate

  @EmergenSeeICUP: Hospital abandoned. All staff and ambulatory patients evacuating inland. The rest… Military airlift for critical cases. No communication from administration. We're on our own now. #MedicalEmergency

  @FirstOneIn111_LastOneOut999: This is my final outgoing message. LAX closed. All flights grounded or diverted. Military aircraft only. Ocean starting to move strangely. God bless and protect you all. #FinalTransmission

  DAY ONE - AFTERNOON:

  EVACUATION ROUTE I-80 - OUTSIDE SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA:

  The eight-lane highway had become a parking lot stretching to the horizon, the failed evacuation grinding to a complete halt hours earlier. Heat shimmered above idling vehicles as desperate families abandoned their cars, continuing eastward on foot despite the blistering afternoon sun.

  Officer Martinez maintained her position, directing evacuees with mechanical precision despite knowing the futility of the effort. The tsunami warning had sounded six hours ago. Even if the wave was still coming—and satellite communications had gone dark, so no one knew for certain—there was no possibility of moving millions of coastal residents to safety in time.

  "How much longer?" asked her partner, voice cracking from hours without water.

  Martinez didn't answer directly. "Keep them moving toward the foothills," she said instead. "That's all we can do now."

  A strange resonant hum began building around them—not sound exactly, but a vibration that seemed to emanate from the earth itself. People froze, heads turning westward where dark clouds had begun forming at impossible speed, stretching across the horizon.

  "That's not a storm," her partner whispered.

  Martinez unclipped her bodycam and positioned it carefully on her cruiser's hood, aimed westward. Someone should document what was coming, even if no one remained to view the footage.

  "It's been an honor serving with you," she said formally, extending her hand.

  Her partner took it, eyes never leaving the approaching darkness. "Likewise, Officer."

  The rumbling intensified as the first evacuees began to scream.

  U.S. STRATEGIC COMMAND - OFFUTT AIR FORCE BASE, NEBRASKA:

  General Harwick studied the rapidly deteriorating global situation map, each red indicator representing a major population center that had gone silent. The entire western seaboard now showed dark, communications terminated after the first massive tsunami made landfall.

  "POTUS and cabinet secured at Mount Weather," his aide reported. "Joint Chiefs at Raven Rock. All designated continuity of government personnel accounted for except Agriculture Secretary Townsend."

  The General nodded, the information registering without emotion. They had transitioned to full apocalypse protocols twenty-four hours earlier—the unthinkable contingency plans designed during the Cold War for civilization's final moments.

  "Seismic activity now registering worldwide," another officer reported. "Yellowstone caldera showing significant magma movement. All monitoring stations in Iceland have gone offline."

  "Nuclear arsenal?" the General asked, professional to the end.

  "Secure and awaiting final authorization codes. Deadman protocols activated for submarine fleet."

  General Harwick almost laughed at the absurdity. Their meticulously maintained nuclear deterrent—the ultimate expression of human destructive capability—rendered utterly meaningless by cosmic forces that wouldn't even notice such firepower.

  "Sir," his aide approached with uncharacteristic hesitation. "Your family in Colorado Springs..."

  "Were evacuated to the designated facility yesterday," the General finished, not mentioning that the underground bunker would provide only temporary reprieve from what was coming. Some comforting fictions remained necessary, even at the end.

  The massive viewscreen showing global satellite imagery suddenly flickered, replacing the tactical map with a direct feed from an orbital platform. The image showed North America from above, the western coastline now dramatically altered as seawater surged inland, creating a new shoreline hundreds of miles east of its previous position.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  "May God have mercy on us all," someone whispered as the satellite feed terminated abruptly.

  DAY TWO - MORNING:

  MOUNT EVEREST BASE CAMP - NEPAL:

  Dr. Fen Gho had reached the world's highest base camp thinking it represented his best chance of survival. Along with several dozen other climbers, researchers, and Sherpas, he had ascended to 17,600 feet, believing the elevation might provide some protection from the oceanic devastation reported worldwide.

  They had lost contact with the outside world eighteen hours earlier when the satellite phones stopped connecting. Their only information came from a battery-powered radio that occasionally captured fragments of emergency broadcasts in various languages—all conveying the same apocalyptic developments.

  "The Western United States... completely inundated... millions presumed... Japan and coastal China... Ring of Fire volcanic eruptions simultaneous... unprecedented seismic..."

  Dr. Gho watched as Nibiru—there was no point using the scientific community's deliberately vague terminology now—continued growing visibly larger in the sky. Even here, in the world's highest mountains, they could feel the gravitational disruption in subtle but unmistakable ways—the air pressure fluctuating wildly, producing alternating waves of crushing density and lightheaded altitude sickness beyond normal.

  A Sherpa approached, his weathered face containing generations of mountain wisdom. "The old texts speak of this time," he said quietly, pointing toward the massive celestial body. "When the sky gods return to cleanse the world with fire and flood."

  Dr. Gho, a lifelong atheist who had dedicated his career to geology and plate tectonics, found he had no scientific counter-argument to offer. The universe had finally presented phenomena that transcended his materialist framework.

  "What do your texts say happens next?" he asked, surprising himself with the question.

  The Sherpa smiled gently. "For most, an ending. For some, a beginning. But truly, it is neither, and both." He gestured toward a small group of local elders who had climbed to this elevation despite their age, now seated in meditation posture facing Nibiru. "They prepare the way for those who will survive."

  Dr. Gho watched as the elders maintained their vigil, unmoved by the increasing tremors that shook even these mighty mountains—their ancient spiritual practice continuing as modern civilization collapsed around them.

  For the first time in his rational life, Dr. Gho found himself joining them.

  DAY TWO - AFTERNOON:

  CNN FINAL BROADCAST - ATLANTA, GEORGIA:

  The network's primary anchor, Melissa Smith, appeared alone at the desk, her usual professional appearance abandoned in favor of a simple button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves. The studio behind her was largely empty, emergency lighting providing the only illumination.

  "This may be our final broadcast," she began, dispensing with standard introductions. "Massive power grid failures continue across the eastern seaboard, and our generators have limited fuel. I'm speaking to those of you still able to receive our signal by any means."

  She shuffled papers unnecessarily—a career-long habit that provided comfort in its familiarity.

  "The western United States has been... lost." Her voice broke slightly before professional training reasserted itself. "Satellite imagery before communications failed showed inundation extending as far as Denver in some regions. Similar catastrophic flooding has been reported across coastal regions worldwide."

  Melissa looked directly into the camera, abandoning the usual rhythm of cutting to on-scene reporters or experts—none remained available.

  "The scientific consensus is that the approaching celestial body—" she stopped herself, visibly abandoning official terminology, "—that Nibiru's gravitational influence has disrupted Earth's electromagnetic field, triggering earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and massive oceanic displacement. These effects will continue to intensify as it approaches."

  For a moment, the consummate professional seemed uncertain how to proceed, glancing off-camera as if seeking guidance that no longer existed.

  "In what may be my final professional act, I feel obligated to acknowledge that many people tried to warn us. They were systematically ridiculed, censored, and marginalized by mainstream institutions, including news organizations like ours."

  The lights flickered ominously, the generator struggling to maintain power.

  "For my part in this failure, I apologize. Had we listened, more might have reached safety, whatever safety remains possible." She straightened in her chair, dignity returning. "To those watching, seek high ground. Gather with loved ones if possible. And may whatever higher power you believe in grant you peace in the time that remains."

  The broadcast cut to static as Atlanta's power grid finally failed.

  DAY THREE - MORNING:

  DEEP UNDERGROUND MILITARY BASE - LOCATION CLASSIFIED:

  Secretary of Defense Williams observed the monitoring screens with clinical detachment, decades of crisis management allowing him to process the unfolding apocalypse with professional distance. The hardened facility, hundreds of feet beneath the surface, represented one of humanity's final functioning command centers.

  "Global casualties?" he asked the intelligence officer maintaining their situation report.

  "Conservative estimate places initial losses at 1.8 billion," came the response, the number delivered with the same emotionless efficiency required to function amid such horror. "Primarily coastal populations throughout Asia, Oceania, and the Americas. European losses concentrated in low-lying regions—Netherlands completely submerged, British Isles experiencing catastrophic flooding."

  "And domestic?"

  "Western states effectively gone. Flooding has reached the Mississippi in some regions. Eastern seaboard experiencing progressive inundation as gravitational effects intensify. Yellowstone caldera showing imminent eruption signals—if it blows, remaining central states will be uninhabitable within hours."

  Secretary Williams nodded, the information registering as abstract data points rather than the greatest humanitarian catastrophe in human history. Emotional processing would come later, if there was a later.

  "The object?"

  The astronomical officer manipulated controls, bringing up their last functioning satellite feed. "Continuing approach. Now visibly larger than the moon from Earth's perspective. Solar occlusion begins within hours—we're calculating atmospheric effects, but temperatures will drop catastrophically once the sun is fully blocked."

  "How long until direct impact?" the Secretary asked, finally voicing the question they had all avoided.

  The astronomer's professional demeanor cracked slightly. "That's... not what's happening, sir. The trajectory suggests it's not going to hit us. It's... positioning itself." He manipulated the controls, showing projected movement. "If current vectors maintain, it will achieve stable position between Earth and the sun, creating permanent eclipse conditions."

  Secretary Williams felt his clinical detachment finally shatter as the implications registered. This wasn't a random cosmic collision—it was deliberate positioning.

  "They're not destroying us," he whispered. "They're claiming us."

  DAY THREE - EVENING:

  NEW TARA - SOLARION'S CHAMBER:

  The crystal chamber glowed with soft blue illumination, providing the only light in the sacred space where Solaris had remained in his integrated form for three days. The single liter of water he had requested sat untouched beside him, his cross-legged form maintaining perfect meditation posture despite the passage of time.

  Unlike the surface world experiencing apocalyptic destruction, New Tara remained physically secure—the underground civilization's ancient technologies maintaining environmental stability despite the catastrophic changes occurring above. Yet the emotional atmosphere had transformed completely, the once-optimistic city now shrouded in solemn purpose as citizens maintained the Harmonic Prayer in continuous shifts.

  Solaris felt it all—every death, every moment of terror, every lost soul crying out as Nibiru's approach transformed the planet's surface. His expanded consciousness allowed him to perceive the global suffering with unbearable clarity while remaining physically motionless.

  Before him floated Solarion's preserved body—his ancient self, waiting in perfect stasis for the moment of transference that would occur during the full moon. The physical vessel represented capabilities beyond his current form's limitations, specifically designed for the confrontation that now approached with inexorable certainty.

  Three days of meditation had brought perfect clarity amidst global chaos. Three days without food, water, and continuous communion with his higher dimensional aspects had burned away any remaining uncertainty. Three days confronting the suffering of billions while preparing for what must come next.

  Outside the chamber, million of New Tarans maintained their vigil—the Harmonic Prayer creating a spiritual foundation that would soon become crucial. Throughout the city, Solar Adepts prepared the technologies and rituals that would facilitate the consciousness transfer.

  As Nibiru achieved its final position—directly between Earth and the sun, casting the planet into an unnatural twilight—Solaris opened his eyes for the first time in three days. His black sclera with blue irises seemed to hold the reflected light of distant stars as he gazed upon Solarion's waiting form.

  "It's time," he whispered, though no one was present to hear.

  The full moon would rise soon.

  Solaris rose with fluid grace, his physical form showing no evidence of his three-day dry fast. Beneath his feet, the last intact human civilization continued its preparations. Above, a shattered world witnessed what they believed to be their final sunset as Nibiru completed its solar eclipse, casting Earth into darkness.

  Solaris placed his hand against the crystal enclosure, feeling the subtle resonance of the advanced stasis field maintaining Solarion's perfect preservation.

  "I accept," he said softly, the words both commitment and promise. "For all who have suffered. For all who have sacrificed. For the world that will be."

  As perfect darkness fell across the planet's surface, Solaris made his final preparations for the most significant consciousness transfer in human history.