The walk home started quietly. The kind of quiet that pretends to be peaceful but really just waits for something to happen.
The sky was a bruised shade of purple, and clouds stretched thin like smoke. My headphones were dead, so I was stuck with the sound of my own footsteps and the city breathing around me.
That's when I felt it — a vibration under my shoes. Soft. Rhythmic. Wrong.
I stopped, pressing my heel to the pavement. The ground trembled again, this time strong enough to rattle a nearby stop sign.
A fight? I thought.
Then the air split open. A thunderclap. A shockwave. A wall of heat that rippled across my skin before the sound even reached me.
An explosion bloomed in the distance — a sudden, violent flower of orange and black. I could see the flames from blocks away, licking at the sky like they were trying to claw their way out.
I ran toward it. Not smart, I know, but old habits don't care about logic.
When I got there, the street looked like a war zone. Two metas were tearing each other apart in the middle of a suburban cul-de-sac. One burned with living fire, skin cracked with molten light that glowed through the gaps like magma veins. The other moved like smoke, a figure of gray haze with sparks flickering inside — solid one second, vapor the next.
Every time they collided, the world shuddered. Flame met fume, and the air turned into a blast furnace.
A car parked too close exploded. The fire-wielder didn't even flinch; he hurled another wave of heat, incinerating a lawn and half a porch. The gas-meta countered, dispersing into mist and reappearing behind him, swinging a punch that trailed black vapor. The punch missed, but the gas caught a spark — igniting mid-swing.
The resulting blast threw both of them through the air and leveled what was left of the driveway.
Screams filled the block. Windows shattered. Alarms screamed.
And yet, somehow, I couldn't look away.
For a second, I thought about stepping in — not fighting, just something. But that's not who I am anymore. Not without the Nexus. Not without… whatever that part of me was.
So I just stood there, watching the chaos rip through a neighborhood that probably still smelled like candy and pumpkin candles from two nights ago.
The distant whine of Sentinel transports cut through the noise. Three black vehicles dropped from the sky, engines humming with that perfect mechanical calm only they had.
Containment drones swarmed the area like insects. Light domes unfolded midair, locking down the street in blue hex patterns.
Within minutes, the fight was over.
The two metas — still alive but barely — were pinned, tagged, and tranquilized. Flame doused. Smoke dispersed.
Just like that, it was finished.
They came in like gods and left like ghosts.
Anti-climactic, honestly. They made a scene big enough to burn down a block, and then they were gone — wiped up and carted away before the ash even settled.
That's the world now—noise, fire, silence. Repeat.
By the time I got home, my adrenaline was gone. My legs felt heavy. Every muscle in my chest ached where Joe had slammed me into that fence. My hands shook — maybe from the memory, maybe from the cold.
When I opened the front door, the hinges let out a tired creak. The house was quiet except for the clock in the hallway ticking just a little too loudly.
Mom was at the kitchen table with a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. The overhead light made a halo in her hair, but her face was shadowed.
"You're late," she said. Her tone wasn't angry — it was the kind that already knew I was going to lie.
"I went for a walk," I said.
"In the middle of the night?"
"It wasn't supposed to be."
Her eyes flicked down to the bruise blooming under my collarbone. "Kaleb…"
"It's fine," I said quickly. "I just—ran into someone."
"Someone?"
I sat down across from her, fingers tracing the wood grain in the table. "Joe Wann."
The name hung in the air like a curse. She set the cup down so carefully you could hear the porcelain click against the saucer.
"What did he want?"
"Help," I said. "With the Nexus. Apparently it's… changing."
Her jaw tensed. "And?"
"And he offered me my powers back."
Her hand balled into a fist before she caught herself. "You didn't accept."
"No. I told him to go to hell."
Mom exhaled slowly, pacing a tight circle around the table. "Good. Because that's exactly where Sentinel's headed."
"He got physical," I said quietly. "Grabbed me. I couldn't—"
The words tangled in my throat. She crossed to me in two quick steps, kneeling so we were eye level.
"Did he hurt you?"
"Not for long." I swallowed. "Someone stopped him."
Her eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"I don't know. Some vigilante in a blue suit — fast, strong. And then Dad showed up."
That stopped her. "Ignis?"
"Yeah. He told Joe to back off. Then he just… left."
She rubbed her temples. "Of course he did. That's his version of parenting — burn bright, vanish."
We both went quiet. The refrigerator hummed. The clock ticked. The house settled like it was listening to every word we didn't say.
Finally, she whispered, "You need to understand something, Kaleb. Sentinel isn't what it was months ago. Joe's desperate because they're losing control of the Core. They think it's evolving without guidance."
"It is," I said before I could stop myself.
Her eyes shot to mine. "You felt it?"
"The same hum from the beach. It's stronger now."
Mom stood slowly. "That's impossible. It's sealed."
"Then explain why I can still hear it."
She didn't. Just stared at me — that quiet, terrified look she gets when even her foresight can't find an answer.
The next morning, the world was already moving too fast.
Every channel showed the same loop: a blurry flash in the sky, a glowing figure — Ignis Rex activity confirmed. No one said names, but everyone had theories.
Booker leaned against the counter, scrolling through his phone. "You were near this, weren't you?"
I didn't look up.
"Kaleb, you've gotta stop finding trouble."
"I didn't find it," I said. "It found me."
Mom came in mid-argument, hair tied back, face drawn. "Both of you, stop. Booker, get ready for practice."
He rolled his eyes but left.
When the door shut, she turned to me. "You're staying home today."
"Why?"
"Because if Joe files that report, Sentinel will twist it. They'll claim you provoked him—or that your father interfered in official business. They'll use it to justify surveillance."
I looked at the TV. The muted broadcast replayed the same explosion from last night — the metahuman fight I'd seen firsthand.
Sentinel Investigating Internal Power Fluctuation; Ignis Rex Activity Confirmed.
"Too late," I said.
Her shoulders slumped. "I'll make some calls."
I nodded and headed upstairs. The walls buzzed faintly as I climbed — maybe the house wiring, maybe not.
In my room, I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the quiet to settle. It didn't.
The hum was still there — distant, steady, pulsing somewhere in the bones of the world.
The Nexus wasn't speaking. But it was awake.
And it hadn't forgotten me.