The city was still asleep when Raj stepped onto the balcony.
The sky hadn't turned gold yet. It was in that fragile in-between—where deep blue still clung to the edges of the skyline, and the buildings looked like cutouts against a dark canvas. The wind was crisp and cool, carrying the distant hum of traffic like a whisper beneath everything else.
He wrapped his hoodie tighter around himself, rubbing his hands together. They still felt warm. They hadn't cooled properly overnight.
He'd barely slept.
Not out of fear. Just… restlessness. His body felt like it was waiting for something. Not caffeine. Not adrenaline. Something else.
Something older.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the balcony railing. From here, he could see the tops of other buildings—some with rooftop gardens, others with laundry flapping in the breeze. And there, faint and familiar, was the silhouette of the Avengers Tower. It stood in the distance like a monument to fiction made real.
If he didn't know better, he'd think it was a dream.
But then the light changed.
It was slow, subtle. Like the sky exhaled and let go. A sliver of pale gold cracked the horizon, staining the edges of the clouds. The moment it touched the glass towers, they flared with warmth, catching the light like mirrors.
And then it touched him.
Just a sliver. A soft golden ray slipping between the buildings, brushing across his cheek, then his neck, then his chest.
His breath caught.
He didn't glow.
Not immediately.
Instead, something deep in his bones responded. Like a soft chord being plucked on a string he didn't know existed.
The warmth soaked into him, but it didn't stop at the skin. It burrowed deeper. His heartbeat slowed—not sluggish, but precise. Calm. A steady thump that echoed through his ribcage like a drum beat from another lifetime.
His hands relaxed at his sides.
Then, slowly, the world shifted.
Not much. Barely a flicker.
But he saw it.
A heat shimmer in the air around his fingertips. A faint warping, like the air didn't know how to handle what was happening to him.
He looked down at his hands. They weren't glowing—but they were wrong in a way he couldn't explain. The sunlight seemed to bend toward him, ever so slightly. Not to touch him, but to recognize him.
He opened his hand, palm up.
And for a single, impossible second, the light curved and settled there. Not like a flame. Not like heat.
Like memory.
Like it remembered him.
His breath left in a slow exhale.
It didn't scare him.
It should have.
But all he felt was stillness.
And then—
A flicker.
His pupils narrowed. Just for an instant, as the light hit his face full-on. Not human. Not normal. Not like any reflection he had ever seen.
His eyes shimmered red-gold, twin slits at the center like the iris of something ancient, hidden behind flesh.
But it passed in a blink.
He staggered back, chest rising and falling.
"What was that…"
His voice sounded clearer than usual. Fuller. Like it echoed deeper into the morning air.
He clutched the railing. Felt the metal hum faintly beneath his fingers.
He wasn't melting buildings. He wasn't flying. He hadn't suddenly shot lasers from his eyes.
But something had changed.
The warmth in his limbs hadn't faded—it was growing. Slowly. Deliberately. Like a kindled flame waiting for breath.
He stood in the sunlight for a few more minutes, letting it soak into his skin. His hoodie grew warmer, but his body didn't sweat. His muscles relaxed. The tension in his shoulders melted.
It felt like coming home.
And yet… this wasn't home.
Mumbai was.
Rain.
Riya's messages.
That was home.
This was something else.
Not better. Not worse. Just—new.
Raj stepped back from the balcony, closed the glass door gently behind him, and let the curtain fall across the morning light.
The warmth stayed in his chest.
He touched it once—fingertips against his sternum.
Still human.
But barely.
He made breakfast slowly, methodically. Oatmeal, toast, a banana. Nothing fancy. He watched the kettle boil with a kind of focus he didn't usually have. The rising steam curled toward him and vanished like it was being absorbed.
He didn't question it.
Not today.
Today, he would eat, dress, and walk into a school full of strangers who thought they knew him.
He would sit in class beside Peter Parker. He would laugh at jokes he didn't understand. He would pretend he was just Raj.
He didn't need to tell anyone yet.
Whatever this was—this warmth in his bones, this strange response to sunlight—it wasn't dangerous.
Not yet.
He looked at the sun one last time as it climbed fully above the city.
It looked back.
And it smiled.