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Shadows Over Flanders
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March 30, 1990 – Wavre, Belgium
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The small town of Wavre nestled quietly beneath a velvet sky, but tonight the stars were not the only lights above.
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Lieutenant Marc Delacroix, a seasoned officer in the Belgian Air Force, sat tensely in the cockpit of an F-16 Falcon. He had received direct orders to intercept an unidentified flying object that had been tracked moving erratically across Belgian airspace. Ground radar had confirmed it—triangular, massive, silent, and blinding in its luminous geometry.
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"Falcon-1, do you have visual?" crackled the radio.
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"Negative," Marc responded, scanning the sky. "Radar contact only. Target moving... erratically—damn thing just dropped 1,000 meters in 2 seconds."
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Aboard the aircraft, the onboard radar flickered. The object shifted position faster than any known aircraft—diving, banking, hovering, disappearing from one screen only to reappear kilometers away. It was impossible… and yet it was real.
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On the ground, gendarmes in the town of Eupen and Wavre reported seeing a massive black triangle in the sky. It floated silently, lights pulsating from each of its three points. Some described it as “the size of a football field,” with a red light at the center that “beamed down like a searchlight.”
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In a nearby field, a young schoolteacher named Elise Verbruggen stood motionless beside her car, heart racing. She had pulled over after spotting the slow-moving triangle above the tree line. It didn’t make a sound—but she felt something: pressure in her chest, a static tingle on her skin, like standing too close to high voltage.
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The object paused above her, tilting slightly.
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Suddenly, a beam of light bathed her car. Her vision went white.
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Later that Night – Belgian Air Force Headquarters
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General Raymond Lefevre looked pale as he stared at the composite radar images on the screen. Four objects. Triangular. Maneuvering at hypersonic speeds. No sonic booms. No heat signatures. No communication.
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“Sir,” an aide entered. “We have a civilian witness—Elise Verbruggen. She was… affected.”
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“Affected how?”
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“She was found unconscious by a patrol unit. Minor radiation burns on her arms. She’s... seeing things she shouldn’t know. Coordinates. Symbols.”
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The General’s eyes narrowed. “Symbols?”
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“Yes, sir. They match markings from Cold War-era radar anomalies we never explained. Same ones from the NATO black files.”
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Raymond leaned back in his chair. This wasn’t a simple airspace violation anymore. It was intelligence—far beyond human.
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Three Days Later – Military Hospital, Brussels
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Elise woke up in a white room. Her dreams had been filled with lights, low-frequency hums, and visions of star systems orbiting unfamiliar suns. On her bedside table sat a notebook. She had scribbled in it during sleep—symbols, diagrams, and a strange language she couldn’t remember learning.
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A doctor entered. Behind him, two men in dark suits. Not Belgian military.
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“Elise,” the doctor said gently. “Do you remember anything?”
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“I remember the silence,” she whispered. “And I remember them watching me. Not with eyes. But... through the air itself.”
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The men in suits exchanged a glance. One of them stepped forward. “Ms. Verbruggen, we need to ask you some questions. Strictly confidential.”
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“Who are you?” she asked.
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“We don’t have a name you’d recognize. But we’re here because you’ve seen what wasn’t meant to
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