London's rain didn't fall—it attacked. The city was a blur of gray, the drizzle clawing at umbrellas and soaking through jackets as students and shopkeepers scurried along the slick streets. Joshua Wise, 18, wove through the morning chaos, his polished black leather oxfords clicking against the wet pavement. His black school blazer, single-breasted with gold buttons, clung damply to his lean, athletic frame, the collar of his white dress shirt slightly askew. His dark brown hair, wavy and a touch too long, stuck to his forehead, dripping into his golden-yellow eyes—sharp, almond-shaped, catching the neon flicker of shop signs in puddles. He loosened his black tie with gray stripes, shoving his hands into his pockets. Another gray morning in the 2020s, but the air buzzed with something… off, like a chord strummed wrong on a guitar.
Joshua's steps quickened toward Raj's garage, his refuge from the city's churn and his own tangled thoughts. Last night, he'd stayed up scribbling lyrics in his notebook—"Wings of ash, burning through the void…"—words that felt too heavy, like they came from a dream he couldn't shake. His stomach twisted, a nervous knot, but he blamed the cold seeping through his blazer. Just get to Raj's, he thought. Maybe figure out how to talk to Yumi without sounding like a dork.
The garage squatted on a noisy side street, its brick walls patched with faded graffiti, reeking of oil and metal. Raj had turned his uncle's old shop into a chaotic haven, all gears and grit. Joshua pushed open the door, the bell jingling like a half-hearted wave.
"Yo, Josh! Early for once. Yumi's starry poems keeping you up?" Raj's grin flashed from behind a workbench, his grease-stained hands twirling a wrench. Stocky, with a messy black ponytail and eyes sparkling with mischief, Raj was 19 and owned the room like he'd built it himself.
Joshua tossed his bag onto a stack of tires, snorting. "Can it, Raj. I'm just dodging the rain. And you still owe me that wrench." A smile tugged at his lips despite himself. Raj could make a rainy day feel sunny, even when Joshua's head was a mess over Yumi—her sketches of moons and jagged tears in the sky haunted him more than he'd admit.
Raj slid a foil-wrapped sandwich across the bench—chicken tikka, his mom's recipe, spicy enough to wake the dead. "Sure, mate. Yumi this, Yumi that. If you spent half as long chatting her up as you do staring at her in the halls, you'd be set. Those eyes of yours practically light up when you're thinking about her."
Joshua tore into the sandwich, the heat masking the flush creeping up his fair cheeks. "They don't light up," he mumbled, though he wasn't sure. Lately, his reflection seemed… sharper, like his eyes caught more than they should. "She's just… different. Her notebook's got these drawings—moons, rifts, weird stuff. It's cool, okay?"
His stomach twisted again, a strange unease he couldn't place. He glanced at the garage window, and a shadow flickered in the glass—long, too sharp, like a figure just out of sight. It wasn't Raj's reflection, or his own. He blinked, and it vanished, leaving only the rain's drum.
Raj leaned back, munching his own sandwich. "You gotta make a move, Josh. Life's too short for pining. Remember those streetlights last week? Flickering like they were alive? World's getting weird, man. Don't add 'missed shot with Yumi' to the regret pile."
Joshua nodded, but his mind drifted. His dreams had been off: whispers in the dark, a cry like a distant song. He'd written a lyric about it—"Fire calls, but the void answers"—but hadn't shown anyone. The unease grew, like the air was pressing down.
The garage was a bubble against London's churn, cluttered with tools and Raj's half-baked inventions. Raj rambled about a scavenged part, some junk with faded text about "dimensional alignment." "Says it syncs with rifts or some sci-fi nonsense," he said, grinning. "Like I'd buy that."
Joshua laughed, but his eyes flicked to the window. A silver shimmer cut through the glass, sharp as a knife, like moonlight on a cloudy day. His heart skipped, the unease spiking. "Raj, you see that?" he asked, voice low.
Raj squinted, wiping his hands on his jeans. "What, the rain? You're paranoid, mate."
But Joshua wasn't convinced. The air felt thicker, like it was waiting. He stood, brushing crumbs off his blazer, and stepped toward the window. The shimmer flickered in the alley across the street—a jagged tear, violet at the edges, like a wound in reality. A faint hum vibrated through him, rattling his teeth, and his stomach churned, dread coiling tight. His oxfords scuffed the floor as he moved.
"Josh, you good?" Raj's voice sounded distant.
The hum grew louder, and Joshua's eyes locked on the alley. The tear pulsed, whispering his name in a voice that wasn't human. His fingers twitched, heart pounding. "What the—" he muttered, stepping back.
Raj jumped up, eyes wide. "Mate, you're freaking out. What's going on?"
Joshua shook his head, the unease gripping him. "I'm fine," he lied, but the alley called, that violet tear pulsing like a heartbeat. He grabbed his bag, muttering, "I gotta check something."
"Josh, wait—" Raj called, but Joshua was out the door, rain slapping his face as he crossed the street, his oxfords slick on the pavement. The alley was narrow, littered with soggy cardboard and cans, but the shimmer was unmistakable—a crack in reality, leaking violet light. The hum was deafening, like a song only he could hear, and his chest tightened, dread coiling like a snake.
Something moved in the rift—a small, metallic shape with glowing red eyes, skittering like a spider. Its tendrils twitched, alive with purpose. Joshua froze, his breath catching. A shadow moved faster—dark, humanoid, with glowing white eyes that pierced the gloom. Its edges dissolved into wisps, like smoke given form. It slashed at the creature with invisible force, shredding its metal body into sparks. The rift pulsed once, violently, then snapped shut, the violet light winking out like a dying star. The shadow figure turned, its white eyes locking onto Joshua for a heartbeat, then vanished, leaving a faint whisper: "Not yet."
Joshua stumbled back, his oxfords splashing in a puddle. The alley was just an alley again—wet, empty, ordinary. His heart pounded, the dread lingering like a bad dream. He clutched his bag, Yumi's notebook flashing in his mind—those sketches of rifts, like she'd seen this coming. Shaking his head, he turned and walked home through the rain, the city's hum louder than it should be, unaware that something had noticed him.