Page 155 of Eternal

AZRA

“Everything Means Nothing To Me” by Elliott Smith

Present

T he map of the estate is still open on my screen, outlined in satellite images, red-ink sketches, and notes that read more like warnings than plans.

A fortress. Figures it’d be tonight…Fourth of July. Fireworks and flags. A symphony of distraction.

They built this day to make people forget how violent this country is.

What it took. What it still takes.

I’ve never celebrated it, never felt like it was mine to begin with.

When I was little, my mother used to lie, the soft kind, the kind meant to keep me safe.

She’d tell me the fireworks were for me. Every year, I’d stand on the balcony with bare feet on warm concrete, watching the sky split open, colors, smoke, chaos stitched into beauty.

“They’re celebrating you,” she’d whisper, kissing my hair. “All of this… It’s because you were born.”

And I believed her, because I wanted to, but even then, I knew what it felt like, the stares when she called me habibti in public.

The way they’d look at her, at me, at our skin.

The way she’d squeeze my hand a little tighter when we walked past certain stores.

Like she knew we were being watched, and worse, measured, judged almost.

My mother had to leave her country to survive. I was raised in the aftermath, in the corners of rooms not built for us, in schools that never said our names right, in streets where freedom was something you learned to fake.

So no, this day was never mine, and now the governor, the man at the top of it all, is hosting his annual celebration, with champagne, speeches and hidden basements.

I sip what’s left of the coffee Damir made me, still warm, still bitter. He left early this morning, quiet as a ghost. But he made breakfast, like always.

He doesn’t know what this place really is, only that I said I had something to finish.

I didn’t tell him about the man in the hospital, or the badge, or that my mother died chasing this same threat, not today, not on what’s supposed to be my birthday.

I glance at my jacket, the note he left is still there, tucked in the inner lining, soft against my ribs.

If we’re not together at midnight… read this.

I really need to focus, the estate is monstrous, a sprawling compound tucked in the hills north of the city.

It’s not a simple house, it’s a network, paved roads, outbuildings, private fencing, even a helipad, no clear entrances unless you’re on the list, and I’m not.

I’ve been tracing the perimeter for hours through satellite maps, old zoning permits, anything I can find.

Most of it’s scrubbed, but there’s a narrow utility road behind the east tree line, gravel, not paved, like it’s used for maintenance or trash pickup, it leads to a side structure marked “Storage,” but if the file I found is right, that building sits directly on top of an old root cellar that links into the main property from below.

No cameras on it, no light fixtures, forgotten, a vulnerability, if I can get close without tripping motion sensors, that’s my way in.

My coffee’s gone cold next to me when my phone starts buzzing.

Vik & Kat calling…

I hesitate, I’m still tracking the guard shifts, but I answer. “Hello?”

Kat’s voice, muffled and whisper-yells, “She picked up! Don’t fuck it up, Vik!” Then, immediately: “Haaaappy birthday to youuuuu…” Vik comes in, way too early, “Happy BIRTHDAY to YOUUUU! No, wait, we weren’t there yet! Happy birthday dear AZRAAAAA!

Kat stops, and says, “You’re off-key and ahead of the beat, Viktor…”

I snort, almost choking. “You’re both horrible singers.”

“Thank you, we practiced,” Kat says proudly.

I laugh into my sleeve, trying not to spill my coffee. “You’re tiring.”

“Correct,” Kat says proudly.

“Did you like the part where I harmonized?” Vik adds.

“I liked the part where it ended,” I say, but I’m still smiling.

Kat softens. “Happy birthday, Visha. ”

I click through another file. “Thank you Kat.”

“You doing anything today?” Vik asks.

I minimize the layout on my screen. The tunnel entry’s bookmarked in my mind. I just need the timing now.

“Damir said he’s got something for me later. A surprise, apparently.”

Kat laughs softly. “Well, have fun tonight. We’ll be at your place by eight tomorrow morning.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Eight is way too early.”

Vik’s voice is firm. “I don’t care.”

I smile. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Love you, Visha, ” Kat says.

“Love you, Kroshka, ” Vik adds. “See you tomorrow,” he continues.

For a moment, I want to say it back, really say it, but instead, only “Me too” slips out, it sounds small, like a secret, almost insane to admit and I hang up quickly, cheeks warming.

I wasn’t ready to say it aloud, maybe never will be, but it’s there, under everything.

The call leaves a warm ache in my chest, one I can’t sit in too long, not today.

I turn back to the screen, that storage structure might be the only shot I have, it’ll be dark, no fireworks on that side of the property, if I wear black and get in fast…

I scroll to check the estate’s previous Fourth of July entries, and one article mentions a drone display last year, a big media presence. Good. That means noise, a lot of it, I can move during the finale.

My eyes flick to my jacket by the door, the note’s still in the inside pocket where Damir tucked it this morning, and I stare at it.

I wonder quietly what exactly my mother saw when she got this far. What she felt the night before she found this address.

Because tonight, I might find it too.

And then maybe, I’ll finally be free. The northern lights are waiting for us after all.