Elias woke to sunlight stabbing through his blinds like a personal attack. His head throbbed. His chest burned. His entire body felt… wrong. Too light. Too tense. Too alive.
He sat up slowly in his cramped studio apartment above a laundromat. The familiar hum of washing machines downstairs vibrated through the floorboards — except today, it sounded like thunder.
Every sound was amplified. Every color too bright. Every breath too sharp.
"What the hell…" he whispered.
He swung his legs out of bed and nearly stumbled. His muscles felt coiled, electric, like they were waiting for a command he didn't know how to give.
He walked to the bathroom and froze.
His reflection looked… different.
His eyes glowed faintly, like embers hidden beneath ash. His skin had a subtle shimmer, as if light clung to him. He leaned closer, heart pounding.
"What happened to me?"
He remembered the bridge. The water. The light.
His chest pulsed — a soft, golden flicker beneath his skin.
Panic clawed at him.
He grabbed his jacket and bolted out the door, nearly tripping down the stairs. The laundromat owner shouted something at him, but Elias barely heard it over the roar of his own heartbeat.
He needed answers. He needed normalcy. He needed work.
Kronis Dynamics was a 20‑minute walk away. Elias made it in 8.
Inside the workshop, he tried to focus. Tried to breathe. Tried to pretend everything was fine.
It wasn't.
A broken radio sat on his workbench — one he'd been meaning to fix for weeks. Absentmindedly, Elias touched the cracked casing.
The radio repaired itself instantly.
Metal bent. Wires fused. Circuits knitted together in a smooth, seamless motion, as if time had reversed itself.
Elias stumbled backward, knocking over a toolbox. Tools clattered across the floor, but he barely heard them over the pounding in his chest.
"What is happening to me?"
He tested his strength next — cautiously. He lifted a heavy steel beam with one hand. He crushed a wrench accidentally. He jumped and hit his head on the ceiling.
Panic spiraled.
He wasn't just stronger. He wasn't just healing faster. Something inside him was waking up — something ancient, powerful, and terrifying.
And someone was watching.
Across the street, perched on a rooftop, Seraphine Kade lowered her binoculars and smirked.
"Yep," she muttered. "Definitely a problem."
She didn't know why the energy inside him resonated with the mark she'd carried since childhood. She didn't know why her pulse quickened when he used his powers. She didn't know why she felt drawn to him like gravity itself had shifted.
But she knew this:
Elias Ward was changing.
And she was the only one who understood how dangerous that could be.