The glow faded.
The hum in his bones quieted.
And Malik, still gasping from the eruption of lightning that had torn through him, collapsed onto the cold rooftop, his body twitching with the last remnants of electricity.
His fingers still felt weak.
His vision blurred.
But he felt… awake.
His heartbeat slowed, heavy and thunderous, like war drums echoing through a battlefield he couldn't see. He tried to sit up, but his limbs gave way beneath him. Every muscle ached as if he'd run a hundred miles.
Above him, clouds circled like vultures. Lightning crackled in the distance.
The shadowy figure was gone.
So was the fear.
Only one thing remained—the mark.
His tag on the vent: "⚡PENDRAGON."
What had once been spray paint was now scorched metal, glowing faintly with golden veins, humming with residual energy. The bolt that had erupted from his chest hadn't just scorched the rooftop—it had fused with it. His name was literally burned into the city.
He reached toward it, slowly.
His fingers trembled. His chest still tingled, like lightning was trapped just beneath his skin.
And that's when he heard them.
Sirens.
Distant at first, then closer. Growing louder. Dozens of them—fire trucks, ambulances, police cruisers.
Malik forced himself to his feet, staggering toward the fire escape.
Then he saw it.
His building.
His home.
It was on fire.
The rooftop blurred beneath his feet as Malik sprinted.
He didn't remember descending the fire escape.
He didn't remember the pain in his legs, or the pain felt in his fingertips.
All he remembered was the smoke curling out of the third-floor windows—the same floor his mom had been asleep on. The same apartment filled with drawings, photographs, and memories. A scream tried to force its way out of his throat, but nothing came.
His feet hit the pavement hard.
Flames crawled up the side of the building. People gathered behind police tape, yelling. Some had their phones out, recording. Others just stared in horror.
But no one moved.
No one acted.
"Get back!" one officer yelled, trying to keep the crowd away.
Malik didn't stop.
"Kid, I said BACK—!"
He shoved through, ducked a grabbing hand, and sprinted toward the front of the building.
"Malik?!" a voice cried out. Ava. He barely caught sight of her brown hair in the crowd before everything around him became white noise.
The front door had collapsed.
Smoke billowed out like a living thing, coiling and twisting. The entire building groaned beneath the weight of the flames. Somewhere inside, glass shattered.
Malik didn't think.
He climbed.
His sneakers hit the frame of the metal gate. Up the railing. Onto the rusted emergency ladder. It burned his palms, but the pain barely registered.
His legs moved faster than they ever had.
Sparks trailed behind him as he ran straight up the side of the building.
The apartment hallway was a furnace. Heat rippled through the walls. Smoke clawed at his lungs.
He pulled his hoodie over his mouth and kicked the door open.
The living room was in ruins. Flames danced across the curtains. The ceiling sagged. But through the thick haze of smoke, he saw her—
Mom.
Slumped beside the couch, barely conscious, her arm covering her face.
He didn't hesitate.
Malik reached her side and wrapped her in his arms.
"I got you," he choked out. "I got you, Mom."
She groaned softly. Still breathing.
He turned toward the door—
Blocked by fire.
No escape.
His heart pounded harder than ever before. The hum returned, rising from deep inside his core. The static that had slept in his body for years now surged through his muscles.
He screamed—and threw his hand forward.
BOOM.
A pulse of lightning exploded from his palm.
The wall looked almost disintegrated.
Bricks shattered. Wood splintered. The fire was blown back. A hole opened to the outside, light and air flooding in.
The city gasped.
From below, the crowd watched as a glowing figure stepped through the smoke, carrying a woman in his arms. The night lit up with golden lightning, wrapping around him like a living cloak.
He leapt from the apartment—three stories down.
And landed in a crouch.
The sidewalk cracked beneath him. His sneakers smoked. His mother groaned in his arms, but she was alive.
He set her down gently as paramedics rushed forward.
The police held back the crowd. Ava pushed through them, breathless, wide-eyed.
Malik's face covered but she knew.
He stood slowly, his face covered with he's hoodie stretched like a bandanna lightning still crawling faintly up his arms.
All eyes were on him.
The boy with dreadlocks. Was unrecognisable he looked like a ghost
Now standing in a crater, glowing with lightning, as if he'd stepped straight out of legend.And then—
He collapsed.
The world went dark.