The siren started before sunrise. Loud, long and mechanical. The kind that crawled across rooftops and slipped into bedrooms whether you invited it or not.
Most people, however, ignored it.
Lights flicked on in nearby apartments. Someone downstairs cursed about being late. A delivery drone buzzed overhead and recalculated its route like nothing was happening.
Alexander Cruise did not ignore it. He was already standing at his window, one hand rested against the glass.
A faint glow shimmered beneath his palm — not bright enough to light the room, just enough to blur the reflection slightly, like heat rising off pavement. The glass didn't crack, it didn't burn, it just… sort of reacted.
And Alex ignored that too.
Outside, a convoy rolled through the street below. Heavy armored carriers - npatrol grade, border grade.
Their engines vibrated low and steady as they moved past apartment blocks. People made space automatically. A shopkeeper paused mid-sweep and stepped aside. A woman pulled her child closer without looking up.
No one ran or screamed, they just moved out of the way like it was something they are used to already.
"One… two… three…" Alex counted under his breath.
Another vehicle turned the corner.
"…four… five… six."
Six.
Three days ago there had been two. Six meant escalation. Six meant this wasn't a "level-two invasion" like the broadcasts kept repeating.
His jaw tightened slightly.
The first ray of sunlight broke through the thinning clouds overhead. It slipped through the narrow gap in his curtains and stretched across the floor.
Alex stepped into it without thinking. Warmth spread through his skin immediately. Not surface warmth, something deeper, like something inside him exhaled.
The light didn't just land on him. No, It did more than that.
If someone had been watching closely — very closely — they might have noticed a few stray rays bending ever so slightly toward him. It wasn't dramatic, it wasn't obvious, but also not natural.
Alex closed his eyes and breathed.
Morning always felt like this. Clear. Aligned. Like the world made a particular kind of sense before anyone else was awake to complicate it.
Night felt heavier. Duller. Like wearing something too thick.
He used to question it when he was much younger, but he'd long since stopped trying to give it an explanation. Some things just were.
Behind him, his alarm buzzed.
[6:00 AM.]
Alex opened his eyes. For a fraction of a second, gold flared where brown should have been — sharp and clean, like sunlight cutting through water. There and gone before he registered it.
Alex didn't notice. He never did.
He casually stepped away from the window and headed for the bathroom.
Today wasn't about the sirens. It wasn't about the invasion. It wasn't about the perimeter walls.
Today was Dawn Academy's entrance exam. And that was all that mattered.
---
The bathroom mirror greeted him with a familiar face - a fifteen-year-old with dark hair that refused to stay disciplined. Brown eyes that turned gold in certain light and never did it twice in the same way. Clear skin that looked faintly illuminated under direct sunlight. Lean build — defined but not broad.
Alex studied himself for a moment.
Something about this morning felt different. The gold in his eyes took a half second longer than usual to fade. He noticed that the way you noticed a word you'd always known suddenly sounding strange when you said it out loud.
He filed it away, and then proeeded to brush his teeth and got dressed. He was halfway through adjusting his sleeve when his door flew open.
"YO, SUNBOY."
Alex didn't turn immediately, afterall he already knew who it was. He just calmly said . "You're going to break that hinge one day."
Nate leaned against the doorframe like he owned the place. "It's durable."
"You said that about Coach Ilias' whistle."
"The whistle was defective." Nate snorted and walked fully into the room without invitation.
He looked same age, same height as Alex but broader in the shoulders. His skin carried a green tint — not neon, not glowing — just naturally green, like someone had mixed a different pigment into human DNA and called it a day. Which, technically, had happened.
A low-budget Hulk - as Alex would often describe him.
Alex finally looked at him. "What if I was changing?"
Nate snorted. "Please. I've known you since we were eight. There's nothing new there."
Alex gave him a flat look which Nate ignored.
"You were standing in the sun again," Nate said, squinting suspiciously.
"No I wasn't." Alex refuted.
"You're literlly doing it right now." Nate raised a brow.
"I like light." Alex tried to defend himself.
"You absorb it like a plant."
"Better than being green full-time."
"That's racist. No it's speciesist."
"Not my fault you're green."
"It's heritage." Nate grinned.
Alex pushed past him toward the kitchen. "Why are you here this early?"
"To escort you to greatness." Nate replied.
Alex stopped in his tracks and looked directly at Nate. "You live downstairs —."
"And?"
"Don't tell me you climbed the fire escape."
"The stairs are boring." Nate faked a yawn.
"You're going to get arrested one day."
"Only if they catch me." Nate grinned.
Alex pushed past him toward the kitchen and the smell of burnt toast hit them before they reached the door.
Alex smiled despite himself. Only one person in the world could burn breakfast every single morning with this level of consistency.
Mum!