The sun had barely begun to rise over Aether City, casting pale gold across the streets and buildings.
Kayden sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the ceiling. At twenty-three, mornings usually felt mundane—a rush of showers, breakfast, and lectures—but today, the quiet weight in his chest made every movement feel heavier.
He rolled his shoulders, rubbing the faint ache in his wrists. The sigil on his arm pulsed softly beneath the skin, a reminder of the night's strange events.
Though its glow had dimmed, it still throbbed like a heartbeat, an unspoken warning that the world was not as normal as it seemed.
Kayden dressed quickly in his usual dark hoodie and jeans, the fabric damp from the lingering chill in his apartment.
The small apartment was modest but warm, filled with faint traces of the couple who had raised him.
A photograph on the nightstand caught his eye—a smiling man and woman holding a baby.
Kayden didn't think about it too long. Memories of that night when he was found—or rather, placed into their care—had always been hazy, fragmentary, and almost dreamlike. No one on Earth knew his true origin, and he wasn't ready to question it yet.
He made his way to the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread greeted him, a small comfort in a world that suddenly seemed fragile.
The couple, now older than he remembered, were already up.
The man hummed a soft tune as he read the morning paper, and the woman set plates on the table, her eyes flicking toward Kayden with a mix of concern and quiet pride.
"Morning, Kayden," she said warmly. "You have classes today?"
"Yeah," he replied, trying for a casual tone. "The usual schedule."
Breakfast passed in relative silence. Kayden's thoughts drifted constantly to the alley, the glowing sigil, and the shadowy figure from the night before.
He tried to push the visions aside, telling himself that today had to be normal. But when he reached for his cup, the sigil pulsed faintly, warmth crawling across his wrist. A shiver ran down his spine.
He finished quickly, exchanged brief goodbyes, and left the apartment.
The streets were already buzzing with morning life: hovercars gliding past, students rushing to lectures, street vendors calling out their early specials.
Kayden walked with measured steps, hood pulled low, his eyes scanning as if expecting danger to appear at any moment.
Evershade University rose before him, an imposing mix of old stonework and modern architecture.
Kayden navigated the campus with practiced ease, weaving through clusters of students.
Though he tried to focus on mundane matters—class schedules, assignments, exams—he couldn't ignore the subtle unease creeping through him.
In lecture halls, he took notes mechanically, but his mind kept drifting.
The images of the crumbling city flashed in his thoughts like a broken film reel, the violet lightning and screaming faces haunting him.
He clenched his fists under the desk, forcing his mind to concentrate, but the faint pulse of the sigil kept tugging at him, a quiet insistence that something was wrong.
After the lecture ended, Kayden moved toward the campus cafeteria. The hum of students chatting, laughter bouncing off walls, and the scent of brewing coffee should have been comforting.
Instead, he felt a subtle tension, like the air itself was waiting for something to happen.
"Kayden! You're late," called a familiar voice. Liora jogged toward him, green eyes sharp and full of curiosity.
She had been one of his few friends at university, perceptive enough to notice when something was off. "You spacing out again?"
"Just… tired," he said, forcing a small smile.
She raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Sure. You've been acting strange since last night. Something going on?"
Kayden shook his head, keeping his thoughts guarded. He wasn't ready to explain the glowing sigil, the visions, or the feeling that the shadows were always watching. "Just a lot on my mind," he said vaguely.
They walked together through the crowded hallways, and for a moment, Kayden let himself blend in, observing students laughing, joking, and hurrying to their own routines.
But he noticed things others didn't: a shadow moving too quickly across the corridor, a figure staring from the far end before vanishing, the flicker of something unnatural just outside his peripheral vision.
His wrist tingled. The sigil pulsed again, faintly, like a warning. Kayden tightened his grip on his bag strap, heart quickening. The feeling was familiar, a quiet echo of instinct he couldn't fully explain.
"You okay?" Liora asked, glancing at him. "You look… tense."
"Yeah… just thinking about an assignment," he muttered, hoping to sound believable.
They entered the cafeteria, and the hum of conversation surrounded them. Kayden moved to a corner table, choosing a spot slightly away from the crowd.
As he ate mechanically, he caught glimpses of movement out of the corner of his eye—students who seemed ordinary, yet somehow too precise, too still.
The sigil pulsed stronger, almost imperceptibly, warmth crawling up his arm. Kayden felt a familiar tug in his chest, the unexplainable urge to act, to prepare for something he didn't fully understand.
Liora noticed his unease. "Kayden… you're scaring me," she said softly. "What is going on?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. Really."
But even as he said it, he knew the world had changed. Shadows lingered where they shouldn't.
The sigil was alive, a quiet warning that danger was never far. And though no one else knew it, Kayden had survived for a reason he didn't yet understand.
He was not just another student, not just another young man trying to navigate life—he was something else. Something the world might need, though he didn't know how yet.
Finishing his breakfast, he stood and adjusted his bag. "Let's head to the next class," he said to Liora, trying to sound normal.
As they walked through the campus, Kayden couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching him.
The sigil pulsed faintly beneath his sleeve, reminding him that whatever had begun in the alley was only the start.
And though he didn't yet know the truth of his origin, the city, the shadows, and the faint warmth in his veins whispered that he had been chosen… or left behind… for something far greater than himself.