Raj woke before the alarm.
The sky outside his bedroom window was still dark, but not fully. It hovered in that gray-blue limbo before sunrise—soft enough to hide the city, sharp enough to outline it.
He didn't feel groggy.
He didn't feel anything.
His eyes blinked open as if they'd never been closed. His breath was steady. His heartbeat… too calm.
He lay there for a moment, listening.
To the world. To himself.
The city whispered faintly outside—subway tracks humming, distant traffic murmuring like waves. But Raj could hear more than that now. A breeze tickling the glass. The drip of the kitchen faucet. Someone on the floor above pacing, bare feet on old wood.
He hadn't noticed that before.
He sat up slowly.
No stiffness. No soreness. His back didn't crack. His muscles didn't protest.
He swung his legs off the bed and stared down at his arms.
His skin—fair, clean, smooth—looked brighter in the pre-dawn light. Not glowing, not shimmering. Just… lit from within. Like something golden was coiled underneath, waiting.
He pressed his hand to his chest.
His heartbeat was still slow. Measured. Like it was timing itself to something larger than him.
He stood and walked barefoot across the room. Each step was light. Controlled. Silent.
He stopped in front of the mirror.
For a long moment, he just looked.
Same face. Same dark hair, tousled from sleep. Same sharp jawline and tired eyes. But they didn't look tired now. They looked…
Focused.
His pupils adjusted to the light too quickly. When he leaned in, he could see every hair on his skin. Every fleck in his iris. Every tiny crack in the mirror's surface that he'd never noticed before.
Then he breathed on the glass.
Nothing.
The mirror stayed clear.
He did it again, slower.
Still no fog.
Raj's eyes narrowed. He touched the glass. It was cold.
His fingers weren't.
He turned away, walked to the window, and opened it. The wind blew in—cool, crisp, and sharp.
He stood in it shirtless, expecting goosebumps.
Nothing.
The breeze didn't chill him. It kissed his skin and vanished, like it couldn't stick.
He leaned out slightly, staring across the rooftops. He could see details—tiny satellite dishes, pigeons rustling near air vents, a soda can rolling across gravel.
He blinked and tried to focus on the can.
It zoomed closer.
Not the object—his vision. It sharpened suddenly, instinctively. His pupils constricted, lenses adjusting like a camera. He could see the barcode.
Raj stepped back fast, heart skipping once.
Then resuming its unnatural calm.
In the kitchen, he poured a glass of cold water and drank it slowly. It didn't chill his throat.
He placed his palm against the marble countertop.
It hissed. A faint, soft sound. Barely audible.
Steam.
He pulled his hand back and stared at the mark he'd left.
A perfect, pale outline. Already fading.
Back in his room, Raj sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands.
They weren't burning.
But they weren't normal.
The heat was there. Constant. Like a current under his skin. Not overwhelming. Not painful.
Alive.
He turned his hand over slowly.
No glow.
Not yet.
Sunlight hadn't touched him yet.
He checked the clock—still twenty minutes until dawn.
He stood up and pulled the curtain back just a little.
The first gold streaks were beginning to stretch across the sky.
He didn't want to wait.
Raj stepped out onto the balcony. The wind carried early-morning cold and the promise of another too-bright day. He let it touch him. Challenge him.
Still no shiver.
His breath misted slightly now. But only just.
The sun wasn't strong enough yet to trigger anything. But he could feel it nearby.
His body was reacting already.
Not to sunlight.
To the idea of it.
Like it was anticipating power before it arrived.
He rubbed his arms. Not from cold, but from tension.
He was changing.
Not randomly. Not violently.
Just… consistently.
And that scared him more.
If this had happened overnight in a burst of light and screaming, maybe it would've made sense. He would've known where the line was. What to fear. What to resist.
But this?
This was slow. Quiet. Gentle.
It felt natural.
And that's what terrified him.
Because he was starting to accept it.
He didn't want to shine every time he stepped outside. He didn't want to float. Or burn. Or blind people with his presence.
He just wanted to walk.
Eat lunch.
Be normal.
Be Raj.
But the warmth in his bones told him the sun had other plans.
He looked down at his bare chest. No light.
Then he placed a hand over his heart.
And whispered to himself,
"You're still in control."
His heartbeat responded. Still slow. Still steady.
But deeper now.
More… resonant.
Like thunder in a cave.