The first day of senior year was supposed to feel like a restart.
The smell of rain on pavement, chatter in the school courtyard, shoes squeaking on wet tiles.
For most students at Elaris Central High, it was a day to show off new haircuts and test out new crushes.
For Cjay Maren, it just felt like noise.
He leaned against the back fence of the school, headphones in, staring at the skyline of Elaris City. The towers looked like giant prisms slicing through clouds, neon reflections rippling across glass. It was beautiful — and fake. A city that glittered from afar but rotted underneath.
"Hey, loner-boy," came a teasing voice.
Helen, short brown hair and the confidence of someone who never cared what others thought, slid beside him with a half-eaten bun in hand.
"You're supposed to look excited. It's our last first day. One more year and we're out of this dump."
Cjay gave a tired smirk. "Yeah. If the system doesn't collapse first."
Helen rolled her eyes. "You say that every semester."
He shrugged. "Still true every semester."
She laughed — and for a moment, the noise of the school faded into something lighter.
Then she frowned, scanning the yard. "Wait. Where's Kelvin? He said he'd meet us by the gate."
Cjay's smile faded.
Kelvin wasn't just a classmate. He'd been their friend since middle school — the kind of guy who wore designer shoes but never bragged about it, always laughing, always paying for everyone's food.
Until the accident.
It happened three weeks ago — his parents' car went off the upper highway in the North Sector. The media called it "a mechanical failure." Cjay called it a cover-up.
Since the funeral, Kelvin hadn't answered calls.
Rumors spread — he'd dropped out. Joined one of the local street gangs in South Elaris, the ones with coded tattoos and synthetic drugs.
"Maybe he's still mourning," Helen said quietly. "You know how close he was to his mom."
Cjay crossed his arms. "Yeah. But Kelvin wouldn't vanish like that. Something's off."
Classes dragged on.
The new principal talked about discipline and rebuilding "the future of Elaris youth." The students half-listened, eyes glued to the flickering ceiling screens.
Static crawled across the holographic display.
Then the lights dimmed — not from power loss, but like the day outside had suddenly darkened.
From the window, Helen whispered, "Cjay… look at the sky."
The clouds had stopped moving. The wind died. A strange amber tint washed over the city like sunlight trying to escape a jar.
No thunder. No lightning. Just stillness.
Then the intercom buzzed, voice shaky:
> "Students, please remain calm. We're experiencing a temporary—"
The system cut off.
The sky returned to normal by afternoon, but everyone could feel something wasn't right.
Cjay and Helen left the building as rain began to fall — slow, warm droplets that smelled faintly metallic.
"Guess the world's glitching," Cjay muttered.
Helen was about to reply when she froze.
Across the street, under a flickering billboard, stood Kelvin.
He wasn't in uniform. He wore a black jacket with a crimson insignia stitched into the sleeve — the mark of The Vex, a known city gang.
He was talking to two older guys, both with shaved heads and half-gloved hands.
Helen whispered, "Is that… really him?"
Cjay's heart sank. Kelvin looked thinner, colder. His laughter — once bright — was now a tired smirk.
When their eyes met for a split second, Kelvin looked startled… then turned and walked away quickly, deeper into the alleys.
Helen grabbed Cjay's arm. "Should we follow him?"
He hesitated. "If we don't, we might never see him again."
They exchanged a look.
And ran.
Rain poured harder as they weaved through backstreets, puddles splashing underfoot. Neon signs reflected on wet concrete. The smell of oil and decay grew thicker the deeper they went.
Kelvin's silhouette turned a corner ahead — toward an abandoned construction site by the tram bridge.
"Kelvin!" Helen shouted.
He didn't stop.
The two older men glanced back, saw them, and whispered something to Kelvin. He looked torn — like he wanted to stop, but couldn't. Then he vanished under the steel scaffolds.
Cjay's lungs burned as they reached the site. It was half-built — a skeleton of metal and cables under the storm.
"Maybe we should—" Helen began.
That's when they heard the crack.
A crane cable snapped.
A massive steel beam above them lurched free.
Cjay didn't think. He just moved.
"Helen!"
He shoved her away as the beam dropped.
The sound was deafening — a metallic roar that swallowed everything.
Then silence.
Helen lay on the wet ground, ears ringing, vision blurred.
The beam had crashed beside her, splintering the concrete.
Cjay was pinned underneath, his right arm twisted, blood soaking the rain.
"Cjay!" she screamed, scrambling toward him. "No, no, no—"
His eyes fluttered open. "You're… safe. That's… what matters."
Then his hand went limp.
Helen's voice broke. "Help! Somebody—"
But there was no one.
The two men and Kelvin were gone. The entire site was silent, except for the soft hiss of rain and a strange electric hum above.
Helen looked up.
The clouds pulsed — slow, rhythmic.
Like something alive was breathing inside them.
Then the lights in the city flickered out — all at once.
The world went black.