The rain had stopped just moments ago, leaving the streets glistening under a bruised gray morning sky. Puddles reflected the weak sunlight, and the chill in the air carried the faint scent of wet asphalt and rust. Evans walked toward the prison gate, boots splashing softly, hands deep in his coat pockets. His mind was restless, racing over the three years that had passed.
> "Three years… three years of keeping him safe, of keeping him informed," he muttered under his breath. "Every single detail from the file… every secret they buried… I sent it all to him. Every theory, every anomaly. I hope it was enough."
He exhaled slowly, his breath curling in the cold morning air. "I did my part, Alaric… now it's your turn."
The iron gates creaked open, breaking the silence. Two guards stepped aside, and Evans saw him — the figure he had waited so long to see. Alaric. Only… not the same Alaric who had been imprisoned three years ago.
He was taller now, broader in the shoulders, yet lean and poised. His black hair fell just above sharp, calculating eyes, and his fair skin seemed almost luminous in the pale morning light. The face was handsome, matured by hardship, hardened by experience. There was a quiet intensity in him, a magnetic presence that demanded attention without a word.
Evans stopped for a moment, taking him in. "He's… changed," he whispered to himself.
Alaric noticed, of course. He gave a faint, almost mocking smile. "Didn't think I'd come out looking… normal, did you?"
Evans chuckled, though it was tight. "Normal isn't really the word I'd use."
They walked side by side down the gravel path outside the prison. The silence between them was filled with memories of past experiments, of danger, and of secrets kept for survival. Alaric's hands were tucked casually in his pockets, but a faint hum — almost imperceptible — pulsed under his skin. Golden threads of energy that had once been unstable now seemed to lie in restrained potential, coiled like a spring ready to strike.
After a long pause, Alaric spoke quietly, eyes fixed on the horizon. "You kept your promise?"
Evans nodded. "Every single thing from the file. Every update, every observation, every… secret. Nothing hidden."
Alaric's expression softened, almost imperceptibly. "Good. Three years in there… gave me time to think. Time to… plan. To rebuild."
Another pause, then his voice lowered. "How's my mom?"
Evans hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "After… after I told her what happened, like you know that you died in a car accident and all that ,she couldn't stay here. Too many memories. She moved to another city… left without an address."
Alaric nodded slowly, lips pressing into a thin line. "Can't blame her....Do you know my Father Also died in a Car Crash That's the only reason she is so protective I know every mother is protective but.… It was very hard for me and especially her I was expecting that she would probably leave the city and If I am not wrong I know where she can go and.... I might've done the same." He glanced around at the street, the wet pavement reflecting his silhouette. "I'm thinking of leaving too. Starting over somewhere else. If she's renting a place, maybe I'll take a room nearby."
Evans frowned, searching Alaric's face carefully. "Don't you think… she'll recognize you?"
Alaric turned to him, letting the faintest smile curl at the corners of his lips. His eyes glinted, gold threads pulsing beneath the surface, like a subtle echo of the storm he once carried within.
No," he said firmly, voice calm, steady, and resolute. "Because I'm not Alaric anymore."
Evans blinked, startled by the weight of the declaration. "You… what do you mean?"
Alaric's gaze shifted to the distant horizon, to the city waking beneath gray clouds. "I'm Thundros," he said. The name wasn't just a word; it was a promise, a rebirth, a statement that the boy who had walked into that prison was gone forever.
Evans swallowed, feeling the magnitude of it all. "Thundros…" he murmured, almost to himself. "I don't think anyone would recognize you… not even your mother."
Alaric chuckled softly, a sound tinged with irony and satisfaction. "Exactly. I'm starting fresh. Three years, and now… I'm ready to face what's next."
The wind picked up, tugging at his coat, and the faint hum of energy beneath his skin became slightly more pronounced, just a whisper. A reminder that Thundros was more than human, more than the boy who had been confined behind iron bars. He was something new, forged from hardship, power, and secrecy.
Evans glanced at him once more, concern and awe warring in his expression. "Be careful," he murmured. "You've changed… but the world hasn't."
Alaric's lips curved into a small, confident smile. "Then I'll change it before it changes me."
They walked together in silence for a while, the weight of the past three years hanging heavy between them. But now, finally, the chains of fear, imprisonment, and secrecy were behind him.
The storm had passed.
The rain had cleared.
And from the shadows of the past, Thundros had risen.
A distant rumble of thunder rolled across the sky — quiet, ominous, almost as if the world itself acknowledged his return.