The city's hum was different now. It was not just traffic or barking dogs or the occasional idiot jaywalker. It was alive. Watching. Waiting. Like it had been holding its breath for centuries, and now it exhaled in sharp gusts through alleyways and over rooftops. The kind of exhale that makes you feel like every brick, every crack, every flicker of shadow is staring at you personally.
I kept moving, letting the storm pulse through me. Letting shards of debris and wind dance around my arms like they had been waiting for a cue. Every step, every breath, felt like I was syncing to something bigger than me. Something vast. Something ancient. I did not understand it yet. Hell, I did not even know if I could understand it. But I knew one thing. I was not alone. Not by a long shot.
And then I felt it. A presence. Heavy. Ground-shaking. The kind of presence that makes you reconsider the wisdom of breathing. Like a moving mountain, rising from the city outskirts, slowly crushing the world beneath it even without lifting a finger.
"Great," I said under my breath. "Just what I need. Giant rock man coming for a chat. Perfect."
The sensation moved faster, closer, and I instinctively ducked behind a parked car. Not because I was scared, well, maybe a little, but mostly because I wanted to see before I got flattened.
A shadow fell over the street. Massive. Impossible. Drokmar.
I had read about people like him in old academy texts, legends, myths, exaggerations, but this? This was real. Stone muscles, broad as buildings, skin that almost glimmered with energy. His eyes, oh those eyes, looked calm, unmovable, like a placid lake concealing a tidal wave underneath. I could feel his mind ticking, testing me, calculating my every move, as if he could predict not only my next step but my next thought.
I swallowed, trying not to look like a complete idiot. "Uh… hi?" I said. Because words are supposed to help in these situations, right?
He tilted his head slightly. No words. Just presence. Crushing. Immovable. And yet, there was recognition. Something familiar. Something like destiny.
I exhaled sharply. "Okay. That's terrifying."
Before I could say anything else, the air shifted again. Tiny ripples at first, barely noticeable, then a faint distortion. Time itself seemed to stutter. Aurelius.
The strategist. He didn't walk. He flowed. Every step measured, precise, deliberate. Seconds bent around him, milliseconds stretching, snapping, twisting. He stopped a few meters away, studying me with faint amusement, and tilted his head like he was considering whether I was worth the trouble.
I tried to act casual. Failed miserably. "Uh… hi again?"
No response. Just that presence, that sense that every move I made, every breath, was already being calculated and logged in some invisible ledger of inevitability.
And then came the shadows. Lyren.
The air behind me went cold. Flickering light danced along walls as she moved. One moment, nothing but alley, the next moment, a blade glimmered in her hand, appearing from nowhere. Shadow-born, silent, loyal to nothing but herself. She circled me like a predator. Testing me. Waiting.
I swallowed again. "Yep. Definitely my day."
A subtle tremor went through the ground. Not from me, not yet. Something else. Something bigger. Farther away. Varok. The Iron Prince. I didn't see him yet, but I felt him. Hunger. Fire. Steel. Ambition bigger than mountains, cities, maybe even the storm itself.
The storm above me pulsed. Humming, alive, reacting to every presence. It tugged at me, urged me forward, shouted that this was just the beginning. That something was coming that would make every lesson, every joke, every early morning bike ride in my old life meaningless.
I closed my eyes for a moment. Breath in. Breath out. Thoughts racing. Heart hammering. Energy thrumming through my veins like a live wire.
I opened them. Green eyes blazing, hair sticking up like I had been electrocuted. And I smiled.
"Alright," I said, louder than necessary. "Let's see what all of you want."
Drokmar's head tilted slightly. Aurelius's eyes narrowed in faint amusement. Lyren's blade flickered, just barely visible. And the city. The city seemed to hold its breath.
The storm surged again. Around me, up, down, sideways. The shards of stone, debris, leaves, they all spun faster, higher, alive with anticipation. It felt like the world itself was waiting for me to make the first move.
And then, in that charged, frozen second, I understood something I hadn't fully realized before.
I wasn't just chosen by the storm. I wasn't just marked.
I was the first spark.
And whatever was coming. Drokmar, Aurelius, Lyren, Varok, the storm itself, it wasn't going to wait for me to be ready.
I laughed. Wild, insane, adrenaline-fueled. "Good. Because I'm not waiting either."
The wind screamed around me, carrying shards of concrete and splintered wood. I raised my hands instinctively, letting the storm answer my challenge. Lightning danced along my fingers, tracing the cracks of the alley, illuminating the night in jagged white arcs.
Drokmar's jaw shifted slightly. Did he just approve? Maybe. I didn't have time to think. Aurelius tilted his head again, like some infuriatingly smug teacher grading my very existence. Lyren shifted silently, blade ready, shadows wrapping her like armor.
The storm responded to me. It wasn't just a power. It was a voice. A companion. A warning.
I jumped onto the nearest car roof, feeling the metal groan under my weight. Debris spun like dancers caught in some invisible whirl, circling me as if the city itself had risen to watch.
I looked down the alley. There were too many shadows moving too fast to count. Varok's soldiers. And yet, I didn't panic. The storm didn't let me. It whispered confidence, reckless, dangerous, but real.
I spread my arms. Wind ripped past my body, pulling every loose thing into the spinning chaos around me. Dust, leaves, fragments of glass, they all danced as if my will alone conducted the symphony.
And then the first flash of realization hit me like a punch. I could do this. I could fight, even if I didn't know the rules yet. The storm was mine, not just marking me, but making me.
I landed back on the street, feet firmly planted. Heart hammering. Green eyes blazing brighter than the streetlights above.
"Step up," I said. My voice carried through the alleyways like thunder. "Let's see what you've got."
Drokmar moved first. Earth itself bent around him, cracking in anticipation. Aurelius stepped, and the air seemed to slow around him, milliseconds stretching like rubber. Lyren vanished into shadows, only to reappear a heartbeat later, blade aimed at the first approaching soldier.
And above it all, the storm waited, alive and screaming, like it had finally found its voice in me.
I grinned, inhaling the electrified air. This was no longer survival. This was a beginning. A spark. A storm-born reckoning.
And I was ready.