The storm arrived without warning.
Lightning tore across the skies of Aqua, but unlike any natural tempest, the bolts shimmered with impossible colors — blue, gold, and violet, twisting through the clouds as if the heavens themselves were bleeding light. Winds howled across the high-tech city of Solara, tugging at the metallic spires and shimmering streets. Drones screeched warnings as energy surges interfered with their sensors. For the citizens below, it was a spectacle of terror and awe.
Amidst the chaos, a pillar of radiant light descended from the rift in the sky. The air vibrated with a resonance that made hearts pound, shattering glass and setting off alarms. At the center of that pillar, cradled in starlight, a baby appeared. He fell gently, as if the wind itself had softened his landing, onto the soft lawns of a quiet suburban neighborhood at the city's edge.
The Valen household had been preparing for a normal evening — Lira cooking dinner, Kara sketching designs for her school project, and Nevan tinkering with a miniature grav-bike in the living room. Their smart home flickered and whirred as the storm pulsed through the city's grid. It was Kara who first saw the glow outside the window.
"Mom! Dad… what is that light?" she whispered, eyes wide.
Lira grabbed a glance out the window and froze. There, in the yard, stood a small figure bathed in a swirling column of energy. The baby looked ordinary at first — delicate, sleeping, tiny fingers curling into a fist — yet the air around him hummed. The garden lamps flickered, and for a brief second, a soft pulse emanated from his chest, almost like the rhythm of a heartbeat magnified across the night.
Nevan hurried outside with Lira and Kara following. The storm raged, but somehow, the boy remained unharmed, resting peacefully in the middle of the scorched grass. The parents exchanged a glance. Love, caution, and wonder reflected in their eyes.
"Where… did he come from?" Lira breathed, her hand hovering above his tiny head. She felt a warmth there, not the chill of the storm, but a gentle heat that calmed the winds around them.
Kara leaned closer. "He… isn't like any baby I've ever seen."
Nevan shook his head. "Doesn't matter. He's here, and he has no one, we need to take him in, you know what would happen if the government found him like this."
Without hesitation, they took him in. They cleaned him, wrapped him in warm blankets, and brought him inside. The baby's cries were soft, almost musical, and his eyes, bright purple — though small — seemed to study the room as if he already understood it.
The Valens were not rich, but they were comfortable. Their home was filled with subtle marvels of technology: automated cooking appliances and holographic displays flickering with news. Yet for all the gadgets and systems, nothing felt more important that night than the small life resting in their arms.
He was named Ael, and over the years, he grew under their love and care. He was healthy, unusually resilient, and strong beyond his years. A scraped knee healed in hours; a toppled bookshelf never bruised him. By the time he could walk, he could carry objects heavier than most adults could manage. And yet, the child's strength was subtle, never flaunted, often unnoticed except for fleeting moments when neighbors would pause and stare at the little boy lifting a cart or helping clear debris after storms.
At night, he dreamt.
The dreams were not of toys or playgrounds, but of another world bathed in light and shadow, of battles that tore the skies and fires that danced like living things. A woman, radiant and kind, appeared often, cradling him, whispering words of love and sorrow he could not understand. Her presence was warm, like the sun after a long storm, and he woke each time with a start, palms sweaty, heart racing, and a strange ache in his chest — an echo of memories not his own.
The family never fully understood the dreams. Lira held him close and kissed his forehead, Nevan ruffled his hair with a laugh, and Kara would sometimes sit at his side, sketching what she imagined the visions looked like. They never questioned his resilience or his strange calm when the weather went awry; in their minds, children could be extraordinary in small, unexplainable ways, but deep down they knew, Ael was special.
Years passed, and the city of Solara went on, unaware that their world was changing because of a child who was only beginning to understand life. Nature itself bent subtly to his presence: storms would weaken near him, crops would grow faster, and animals seemed unafraid, drawn inexplicably to his warmth.
—
Today is a special day— Ael's fifth birthday. The skies of Aqua were clear, the city humming with life, and the Valen family had gathered in the backyard to celebrate. Lira had prepared a small cookout, the aroma of sizzling vegetables and grilled meat mingling with the soft hum of hovering drones serving drinks and tidbits. Kara darted around, balancing plates with a careful hand while sketching a new design for her holo-pad, determined to make a special gift for her little brother. Nevan leaned over a small grav-bike he had been tinkering with, explaining its gravity stabilizers to Ael, who listened wide-eyed, fascinated by the strange whirs and sparks of the tiny machine. The evening was filled with laughter, warmth, and the quiet joy of a family celebrating the child they loved so dearly.
For a brief moment, it felt like the world had stopped for them, that life would remain calm and ordinary forever.
Then, the ground trembled.
At first, it was subtle — a faint vibration through the concrete and garden tiles. A momentary quiver, easily ignored. But then a pulse of unnatural energy rolled through the air, making the flames of the fire pit flicker violently and the hovering drones shudder mid-flight. The family froze, sensing instinctively that something was wrong.
Before they could fully grasp it, the earth tore open near the edge of the yard. A jagged black monolith erupted, twisting skyward like a dark spike, etched with glowing runes that pulsed in a rhythm like a heartbeat. The air vibrated with a low, resonant hum, unnerving and deep, as if the planet itself had groaned in pain.
Then movement appeared.
Creatures began to emerge from the monolith, one after another. Limbs bent at impossible angles, twisting like brittle branches. Their skin glistened with strange, reflective scales, veins glowing in a sinister pulse that matched guttural growls emanating from their throats. Their heads were sharp, alien, jaws lined with jagged teeth dripping black ichor. Each step they took seemed deliberate, fluid, a predator designed solely to hunt.
The family froze, terror rooting them to the spot. Kara dropped her plate, eyes wide. Lira instinctively pulled her children close, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Nevan's jaw tightened, scanning the backyard, calculating escape routes even as dread pooled in his chest.
Suddenly, one of the creatures paused, tilting its head unnaturally, glowing eyes sweeping the yard. A chill ran down their spines as the air thickened, pressing against their lungs, and the creature's low, resonant growl seemed to echo from every corner of the backyard.
It stared walking unnaturally towards them.
Its movements were horrifyingly fast, claws scraping sparks from the concrete as it surged forward. Its joints bent in unnatural ways, muscles coiling like spring-loaded tension, every step precise and terrifying. The guttural hiss that issued from it cut through the night, vibrating through the air and shaking the very ground beneath them.
Nevan acted without hesitation. He scooped Ael into his arms, holding him close, feeling the small weight of the child against his chest. "Run! Now!" he shouted, his voice a mixture of terror and fierce resolve. Lira grabbed Kara's hand, pulling her along, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
The creature's gaze never wavered. Its claws scraped closer, sparks showering across the yard as it sprinted with unrelenting precision. The monolith behind it pulsed violently, a heartbeat of darkness, as if the world itself had become hostile in a single moment.
Nevan swung the grav-tool he had been tinkering with, striking at the creature's claws to buy a fraction of a second. Sparks erupted, concrete splintering beneath the impact, and for a heartbeat, the predator recoiled — only to surge forward again.
The man's face was taut with fear and determination. He held Ael as a shield, taking the full force of the creature's strike. The claws caught Nevan in the chest, throwing him backward onto the cracked concrete. Dust and debris filled the air, mixing with the acrid scent of scorched earth and ozone.
"Run… protect… them…" he gasped, voice breaking, hand brushing against Ael's small shoulder. His eyes met the child's for one final instant, a silent plea and farewell. Then, he jumped against the monster, trying to buy a few seconds for his family, though it was not enough, a bite tore through half of his body.
Lira screamed, a raw sound of grief and panic, and pulled Kara and Ael along through the chaos. The city's technology struggled against the raw force of the rift — shields flickered, drones crashed, and alarms rang uselessly. The streets erupted in panic as more monsters emerged from the monolith, their movements fluid, precise, deadly.
Ael clung to Lira's hand, small fingers trembling, but something deep inside stirred — a pulse of instinct, awareness, something ancient and distant. Not power, not control, but a spark that whispered he must survive, must endure.
The family wove through alleys and overturned vehicles, chased by the creature's claws scraping and guttural roars echoing. Sparks of violet and gold streaked the sky, casting eerie shadows over the debris-strewn streets.
By nightfall, they had escaped the immediate threat. From a safe distance, they watched the black monolith pulse in the distance, creatures swarming its base, the first rift in full emergence. Ael leaned against Lira's chest, Kara holding his hand tightly, and for the first time, he felt the heavy weight of loss. His adoptive father, his protector, had fallen.
The storm outside had calmed, leaving an eerie silence broken only by distant roars and flickers of glowing runes. Ael closed his eyes, drifting into restless sleep.
And in that sleep, the dreams returned. The radiant woman, the battlefields, the whispers of love and farewell. Though he could not understand them yet, a spark had been planted deep within him. A spark that would guide him through storms far greater than this.
For now, he was safe. For now, he was with those who loved him. But the world had already begun to change because of him, and the echoes of destiny had already begun to stir.