The hum in his veins didn't fade with the night.
It followed him — into his dreams, into his bones.
When dawn broke, the city woke up like it always did — buses honking, people shouting, the endless rhythm of struggle. But for Waza, the world felt... quieter. Slower. Every sound carried weight. Every color looked sharper.
He stepped down from the rooftop, barefoot, feeling the rough texture of concrete under his feet — yet the chill didn't bother him. His eyes flickered once — silver light, gone in a blink.
As he passed through the narrow alley behind their home, he heard it again — that whisper.
Soft. Calling.
"The balance has shifted."
He turned, heart steady but curious. Nothing. Just shadows and morning mist.
Then his phone buzzed — Mum.
He answered quickly.
"Waza? Come home now," her voice trembled. "There's… something wrong with the house."
His grip tightened around the phone.
He didn't ask what.
He just ran.