The night wind swept gently across the narrow rows of houses on the outskirts of the Aerphine district, yet not a single breeze was strong enough to clear the emptiness in Aelion's chest. He stood on the small balcony of the shabby apartment he had moved into three days ago. Actually, the word "apartment" was too luxurious—the place was nothing more than an old iron box with dull walls and a flickering light that blinked like an unstable heartbeat. But it didn't matter. He was already used to moving from one terrible place to another.
His life was like a tangled spool of thread, impossible to rewind no matter how many times he tried. And that night, beneath a starless sky, Aelion felt that sensation again—the faint impression that he didn't belong here. Or perhaps he didn't belong anywhere.
He drew a long breath, filling his lungs with cold air that cut like needles. Instead of refreshing him, the air left a tightness in his throat. "New place," he muttered to himself. "Same life."
That was his irony. No matter how far he went, his problems followed—faster than his own shadow.
Down below, the streets were still alive with neon lights and passing vehicles, as if the city never slept. Vyndraelis Prime was a busy world, full of noise and movement, yet for Aelion, it never truly gave him space. Everything felt foreign. Cold. As if he were nothing but an uninvited visitor.
Aelion gripped the balcony railing, the chill of the metal biting into his skin. For a moment, he closed his eyes. In the darkness, the sound emerged again—a faint hum, rhythmic, like a distant but unmistakable pulse. Dum… dum… dum… The rhythm was steady, constant, but unlike anything he knew. Not a machine. Not the wind. Not his body.
He didn't know what it was. Or where it came from. And the most disturbing part… the sound only appeared when he was completely alone.
Aelion opened his eyes quickly and pulled his hand away from the railing. He shook his head, trying to push away the strange sensation. "It's nothing," he said, though he knew he was lying to himself.
He had heard the sound for months—ever since those strange dreams started tormenting him. Dreams of light fractures, geometric shapes, and echoes he could never understand. He had tried to dismiss them as stress, as symptoms of a chaotic life lived too long. But the more he ignored them, the more vivid they became.
As if something—or someone—was calling him.
And that terrified him. Because he had never felt called by anyone in his entire life.
He went back inside. The room was small, barely enough for a thin mattress torn at the edges, a crooked-legged table, and a cracked mirror he found in the hallway during his move. Beside the bed sat an old suitcase he carried everywhere, filled with worn clothes and a handful of important belongings.
The lamp flickered again.
It had been doing that a lot lately. Not just the lamp—his television turned off on its own, his phone lit up without him touching it, and the fan stopped spinning for no reason. These things only happened when Aelion was in the room. The previous tenant probably blamed faulty wiring. But Aelion knew better.
Something inside him had changed.
And that was far more frightening than broken electronics.
Aelion sat on the edge of the bed, gripping his hair in frustration. "Nothing's wrong. It's just stress," he tried to convince himself. "I'm just… tired."
But the moment the words left his mouth, the ceiling light went out. The room was swallowed by darkness.
Aelion froze.
No sound. No wind. Only darkness and the pounding of his own heartbeat.
Then… the sound returned.
Dum… dum… dum…
Stronger this time. Closer. More deliberate. As if the sound was coming from inside his own bones.
Aelion tensed. "Not… from outside?" he whispered, breath trembling.
The light suddenly burst back on—so bright it stung his eyes. Aelion flinched and fell off the bed. As he pushed himself up, the rhythmic pulse stopped. As if it had appeared only to give a small warning.
He reached the wall to steady himself, his hands shaking, legs weak, but his eyes were drawn to the cracked mirror in the corner.
He saw himself.
But that night, his reflection looked… different.
His pupils shimmered faintly, glowing for the briefest moment. He blinked, and the glow vanished. But he knew he hadn't imagined it.
"What… is happening to me?"
He stared at the reflection for a long time, as if hoping the mirror would reveal the answers the world had refused to give him. But there was no voice. No hint. Only his own weary face staring back—tired eyes in a life that had never truly begun.
It was then he realized something.
Hopelessness didn't always come from the world outside. Sometimes, it grew from within—from the feeling of never being enough. Not good enough, not needed enough, not worthy enough.
And that was the feeling he had carried for years.
He touched his chest, feeling the uneven rhythm of his heart. "Why do I feel like this…" he whispered. "As if something is waiting… inside me."
The lights flickered again—slowly this time, almost like they were sending a message. Aelion felt the air shift around him. Was it just wind? Or was something moving?
He closed his eyes, trying to listen.
Nothing.
Only himself, the silence, and that faint pulse echoing again.
But when he opened his eyes… he saw it.
A small, brief crack in the air, like a thin line of trembling light before it vanished. It appeared right in the middle of the room, for just a second, but it was enough to paralyze him.
"No way…" he breathed.
That crack of light… was exactly like the one in his dreams.
The dreams that had haunted his sleep—and his sanity—for months.
His chest tightened. Something inside him stirred—subtle but powerful. A strange pulse of energy crawled from his spine to his chest. He collapsed to his knees, breathless, unable to speak.
For the first time, he truly felt something awakening inside him.
Something that wasn't emotion.
Not thought.
Not pain.
But energy.
A foreign energy. A living energy. An energy that seemed to have been waiting all this time.
Aelion clutched his chest, trembling, with only one thought in his mind:
"Whatever this is… this is only the beginning."
The light went out again. The room plunged into darkness.
And in that darkness, the rhythmic pulse returned.
Clearer.
Real.
Dum… dum… dum…
As if the world was calling him.
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