Eryan Vale had always thought life was boring. Alarm at seven, commute to work, hours of filing and shelving at the library, then back home to his small apartment. Repeat. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing worth noticing.
That evening, he stayed longer on the office rooftop than usual. The city stretched beneath him, glowing in muted amber streetlights. Car horns and distant chatter filled the air. Ordinary. Predictable. Safe.
But then a subtle wrongness caught his attention.
A single leaf fell from a tree, brushing the edge of the rooftop railing. And… it didn't fall. Not immediately. It hung for a heartbeat too long, quivering in midair.
Eryan blinked. Maybe his eyes were tired, or maybe he was imagining it. He reached out instinctively.
The leaf trembled. Then it floated downward slowly, deliberately, as though obeying him.
No… that's impossible.
A chill ran down his spine, a mix of fear and exhilaration. He turned his attention to a puddle on the rooftop. A single drop fell from a pipe above, pausing in the air before splashing. The world around him, so mundane moments ago, had become… pliable.
He stumbled back, heart racing. Nothing in his life could explain this. And yet, the evidence was undeniable: he could control time.
For days, Eryan tested the limits in secret. Rolling soda cans, falling pens, flickering neon lights—all responded to his will. But it wasn't just about curiosity anymore; it was about survival. A part of him whispered, quietly: If I'm not alone… if someone else knows… or notices… I need to be ready.
One night, after everyone in the building had gone to sleep, he lingered in the quiet of his apartment, focusing on a corner of the room that felt… empty. He imagined a space untouched by the ordinary world, a place where time could bend without consequence.
The air shimmered, faint as a heatwave. Hesitant, he stepped forward.
The city sounds—the distant traffic, the hum of neon, the occasional dog barking—vanished. The walls, the floor, even the ceiling faded into a thick, gray mist. Eryan's senses stretched. Time felt heavier here, as if it had a pulse, a heartbeat.
He stepped further into the mist. Every movement felt amplified. Every sound of his breath resonated like a drumbeat. He dropped a pen—it hovered midair, trembling, as if alive. A dropped coin rolled backward, then forward again.
This space was perfect. Safe. Infinite. He called it the Haze.
Days blurred as he explored the Haze, testing the edges of his newfound power. And yet, unease lingered, faint but persistent. Shadows seemed thicker in the city outside. People moved just a little too deliberately, glances held for a heartbeat too long. Sometimes, symbols appeared where no one had been, scratched faintly into walls or glass.
And sometimes… he felt a presence. Something watching. Not clearly, not yet—but undeniably there.
The city, he realized, was far from ordinary. Hidden currents ran beneath the surface. Forces he could not yet see—cultists, beings that worshiped gods, shadows that walked with purpose. The world he had always taken for granted was a facade.
For now, though, the Haze was his sanctuary. His laboratory. His first step into a life that would be anything but ordinary.
Eryan closed his eyes. I will learn. I will grow. And one day… I will understand everything.
Outside, the city pulsed in ignorance, unaware that its ordinary observer had begun bending the very flow of time itself.
And somewhere, unseen, a shadow lingered patient, silent, waiting.