Kayden was tired—bone-deep, soul-weary tired. Life had not unfolded the way he once envisioned in those fleeting, optimistic years after graduation. His dreams of carving a path into a promising career had been slowly worn down by the grinding reality of survival.
Rent was overdue—again. His position as a paid intern at a mid-tier marketing firm barely covered his daily expenses, let alone the growing list of bills stacking up like silent accusations on his desk. The rent alone was a mountain, but there were others waiting: the electric bill, the utility charges, the never-stable net bill he relied on for both work and distraction. Every invoice felt like a countdown to collapse.
He had a savings account, yes—but that wasn't really his. Not in his mind. That money had been part of his inheritance, the final gift from his parents after their unexpected deaths. Kayden couldn't bring himself to spend it, not even now. It wasn't just about frugality—it was about respect. That money was meant for building something greater. A future. Not for patching over holes in a sinking present.
The Hyper train gave a sudden rattle, yanking him out of his thoughts and away from the dim screen of his Comphone. He looked up, eyes catching the blur of the city skyline beyond the window—glass towers and neon signs reflecting the fractured light of a world that never stopped moving. A world that didn't care if you were tired.
He shifted in his seat. As an intern, he couldn't afford his own vehicle—let alone something as efficient as a hover-commute license. So he relied on the city's public Hyper train system, like countless others grinding their way through days that felt more like obligations than choices.
Another sigh. Another stop. Another day. And still—somehow—he kept going.
Kayden was just about to glance back down at his Comphone when something flickered in the corner of his eye. A sudden flash of light from the train window stole his attention. He turned his head and frowned. Outside, the sky was shifting.
Dark clouds were gathering, rolling in from the far horizon like a slow, silent tide. The city skyline, once etched in hazy silver light, now looked jagged and grim beneath the swelling gloom. A fork of lightning cracked across the sky, momentary and violent, illuminating the glassy high-rises in eerie silhouette.
Weird, Kayden thought, narrowing his eyes. There hadn't been any weather alerts. No rain forecast. No storm warning. He would've known—he always checked the alerts, especially when he had to rely on public transit. Something about this storm felt off—too sudden, too sharp, like it had ripped itself into the sky rather than formed naturally.
A low rumble followed, crawling across the clouds like a growl from something ancient and unseen. Kayden's stomach twisted slightly—not from fear, but from that inexplicable sense of unease that crept in when the world stopped behaving the way it was supposed to.
Another bolt of lightning seared across the heavens, but this time it was followed instantly by a deafening crack—no gentle rumble or distant echo, but a boom, sharp and explosive.
The train shuddered.
A collective gasp rippled through the passengers as heads turned toward the windows, eyes wide, fingers tightening around armrests and poles. Someone dropped a coffee cup; the lid popped off, and dark liquid seeped across the floor.
Kayden's breath hitched.
That wasn't thunder.
It was deeper. Hungrier. A sound that didn't just echo—it reverberated, like the world itself was trying to scream but couldn't find the voice.
And then he saw it.
At first, he thought it was just another skyscraper—until he realized it wasn't part of the city at all. Towering in the distance, rising—or perhaps descending—from the sky itself, was a massive structure. A pillar, but not built of stone or steel. Its surface shimmered like liquid obsidian, etched with luminous symbols that shifted and pulsed with unnatural rhythm. They weren't runes. They weren't language. They were alive—and they seemed to watch.
Lightning curled around the structure like serpents made of plasma, striking the air with uncanny precision. The very atmosphere trembled, as if the fabric of reality was being unraveled thread by thread. Kayden's eyes widened, the pressure in his skull mounting with every passing second. Something ancient was entering—or maybe revealing—itself.
The pillar continued to descend, as if piercing through unseen dimensions, breaching into the city like a blade stabbing through water. The clouds swirled violently around it, caught in a spiraling stormfront.
Without warning, a tendril of lightning surged outward—violent and precise—arcing straight toward the Hyper rail line. It struck with explosive force.
Electricity howled through the metal veins of the rail system, tearing through circuits and igniting sparks in every direction. The train lurched violently. Lights burst, screens glitched into static, and terrified screams filled the cabin.
Then the surge hit Kayden.
It wasn't just physical—it was metaphysical. It bypassed his nerves and burrowed into his soul. For a single, terrifying moment, he felt everything shift. Time staggered. Gravity lost meaning. He saw colors that shouldn't exist, heard whispers without sound. His heart froze in mid-beat.
And then—reality shattered.
The world peeled away like torn fabric.
And all that remained was darkness. Not the absence of light, but the presence of something far older, waiting in the void.
And Kayden was falling into it.