Chapter 7: What Happened to Me Last Night...?
"Damon... what are we going to do?" Aelina's voice cracked as she spoke, her hands trembling as tears streamed down her face. "He's not breathing…"
Damon didn't answer right away. He just stared at Rayden's lifeless body, his hands cold, his thoughts blank. He slowly laid his son back on the bed and sat beside him in silence. His fists were clenched. He wanted to cry, scream, do something—but his eyes were dry, like even his tears had given up on him.
Then it happened.
Rayden's chest moved.
Just a little.
Then again.
A soft heartbeat thumped under his skin.
His fingers twitched. His lips parted slightly. Then suddenly, like someone waking up from the worst nightmare of their life, Rayden shot up from the bed, gasping hard.
Aelina had her face buried in her hands, still crying. Damon sat with his head down, lost in his own thoughts.
Rayden got up, a little shaky. He walked to the light switch, turned it on, and blinked in confusion. His parents were sitting right there on his bed like ghosts. He rubbed his eyes and asked, "Mom? Dad? What are you guys doing in my room at this time?"
Damon lifted his head slowly. "Did… did I just hear Rayden speak?"
Aelina's head snapped up too. "Me too… that was Rayden's voice…"
Rayden frowned, "I'm standing here. What are you guys even thinking about?"
Both of them turned and looked at him properly this time. Their eyes widened, their mouths hung open.
"Rayden!!" Aelina ran straight to him and hugged him tight, sobbing hard. Damon wrapped his arms around both of them. "You're alive… thank the heavens…"
But Rayden wasn't thinking about that anymore. His eyes were distant. All that was in his mind now… was Flareborn Academy.
He gently pushed them away with a smile, "I'm fine. You guys should go sleep. It's late." He walked them to the door, smiled again, and closed it softly behind them.
Outside his door, Damon and Aelina looked at each other in shock. Damon placed a hand on her shoulder, and for the first time in hours, they smiled.
Rayden walked back to his bed, fell onto it face-first, let out a small happy sigh, and closed his eyes.
Not even five minutes passed.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The alarm exploded in his ears.
"Aahh… I just closed my eyes, man… why so early…" he muttered, sitting up groggily. He stretched and yawned, then stumbled toward the bathroom.
He grabbed his toothbrush and began brushing, but something felt… off. As he stood in front of the mirror, foam dripping from his mouth, he paused.
"What… what's going on with my hair?" he mumbled.
His hair had grown wild, green, and messy. His jaw looked sharper. He quickly finished brushing, spat, then looked again. His reflection stared back—taller, leaner, stronger.
He dropped the brush and yanked his shirt off.
His mouth dropped open.
"What the heck… this ain't me… What happened to my body? My chest—six packs? I never had muscles before! What is this?!"
He wrapped a towel around his waist, backed up, and stared into the mirror again.
"Okay, this is nuts. This is insane. I look like a superhero…"
He started laughing, spinning around once before rushing into the shower. The water hit his skin, and he started singing—offbeat, loud, completely out of tune.
His parents were still asleep, but he didn't care.
After the bath, he stepped out refreshed and pumped. He walked over to his wardrobe, pulled it open, and picked out a plain gray hoodie and jeans. He grabbed his expensive silver watch, looked at it for a second, then shrugged.
"Nah. Too flashy."
He tossed it aside and picked a simple black wristwatch instead. But as he bent down to pick it up, RRRIPPP, his pants tore from behind.
"What?! Ugh! These are the only decent clothes I have that don't scream 'rich kid'…"
Frustrated, he grabbed his torn clothes and stormed out of the house barefoot, wearing just a boxer and a singlet, and rushed to the nearby tailor.
"Please, fix this fast," he said, handing over the clothes.
As he waited outside the shop, two boys rolled up behind him on skateboards. They spotted him, laughed, and one of them whispered, "Yo, that's the weird kid from the hill."
They bought water from the nearby store and poured it on him.
"Loser!!" they yelled, laughing as they skated away.
Rayden just stood there soaked, fists clenched, face twisted with anger. The tailor handed him his sewn clothes and he stormed back home, slammed the door shut, and growled, "Those damn rats… disgusting…"
He put on the fixed jeans and shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. Not bad. Still rough, but not bad.
He walked to his dad's room. Damon was already dressed in a clean, sharp suit. He turned and looked at Rayden from head to toe.
His smile faded.
"Rayden… you're not going to the Academy looking like that, right?"
Rayden looked at himself. "What? What's wrong with it?"
Damon shook his head and waved a finger. "No. You've got better clothes. Today, let me handle it."
He pulled Rayden into his own room and handed him a fresh white hoodie, tight black jeans, and clean Jordan 23 sneakers. He placed a clear round-glass spectacle on Rayden's face.
Now he looked good. Really good.
They walked out to the driveway and got into Damon's new Royce Phantom. Rayden folded his arms, looking serious.
A few minutes into the drive, Rayden removed his jacket, leaving just his round-neck shirt.
Damon glanced over—and slammed the brakes.
The car jerked forward hard and stopped.
"DAD?! What the hell?!"
Damon just stared at Rayden's body.
"Your… body. What happened to you?! This—this wasn't how you looked yesterday!"
Rayden looked down at his arms and shrugged. "I don't know. Can we go? You're gonna make me late…"
Damon just nodded and stepped on the gas again.
Five hours passed.
They finally reached the grand gates of Flareborn Academy.
The gates of Flareborn Academy stood tall and silent.
Then, without anyone touching them, they creaked open on their own.
Rayden paused.
He didn't move right away. He stood there staring at the huge open path in front of him. A soft smile crept onto his face. He felt happy—like all the struggles, all the pain, everything had led him here.
But then, just as he was about to take a step forward, he stopped again.
A memory hit him.
That night.
The night he ran away from home and came to this gate alone… the night he vanished and woke up back in his room.
His foot slowly moved back.
He turned to his dad, who stood beside him, confused.
"Dad," Rayden said, "Do you remember when I ran away from home and came here… and then I disappeared and ended up back in my room?"
Damon raised an eyebrow, then suddenly burst out laughing. "Yeah, I remember that. Your mom told me about it."
Rayden blinked. "Wait... what?"
Damon smirked. "That was your mom's doing. She brought you back."
Rayden stared at his dad, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Hold on… does Mom have powers?"
Damon looked away for a second, scratched his head, and opened his mouth to speak—but just before he could say anything, two upperclassmen walked up to them.
They wore long black coats with red patterns stitched into the sleeves—clear signs of third-year students. One had a crimson badge, and beside him stood a calm-looking boy with a small, glowing beast sitting on his shoulder.
"Welcome to Flareborn Academy," the crimson-ranked student said with a slight nod.
Rayden looked at both of them, then back at his dad. He was still curious… but right now, it didn't matter. He smiled, took a deep breath, and stepped through the gate.
Damon followed right after him.
The two upperclassmen turned and began walking, guiding them into the Academy grounds. As they moved through the wide stone paths and tall flame-shaped pillars, Rayden kept looking around like a kid seeing the world for the first time.
He couldn't stop smiling.
His heart felt light.
Everything about this place felt like it was calling to him.