Luna returns to the town of Whitmire, North Carolina, where she grew up, to witness something that broke the sky. It's late August 2019, just before dawn, and the sun rises over Old Mill Road — but it's not the sun she remembers. The light is wrong. The shadows stretch the wrong way. The birds don't sing. And the woman standing at the edge of the soybean field, her old neighbor Mrs. Ellison, is wearing the same dress she was buried in ten years ago. Luna follows her into the field, where the rows of soybeans have grown black and crystalline, and where a sound like a thousand radios playing between stations comes from underground. She realizes what's happening: the sun is not coming back the way it left. Something is using the sunrise to arrive. She runs, but the light is faster. Now she can't shake the feeling that the sun she sees every morning is a different one — a stranger wearing the same face. A quiet, creeping horror about the end of ordinary things.

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