"-The villain had a water attribute ability, and it took four heroes to take them down.-" The news anchor's voice echoed from the TV, calm yet laced with the usual sensationalism.
'At least they were apprehended,' Nicholas thought, glancing at the screen before shifting his gaze to his father, who was pacing the living room like a man trying to solve an impossible puzzle.
"And you're absolutely sure you weren't in any danger whatsoever?" his father asked for what felt like the tenth time.
Nicholas sighed and turned toward him. His father was an imposing figure, tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair that always seemed to shine and piercing blue eyes that could command a room with a glance. His beard was neatly trimmed, framing a face that Nicholas begrudgingly acknowledged as quite handsome. The contrast left Nicholas frequently wondering, 'Why couldn't I have inherited some of that charm?'
"I'm absolutely sure I wasn't in any danger," Nicholas said, his tone deliberately steady. "I just… saw it from afar."
It was a half-truth, and it sat uneasily on his tongue. For some reason, lying to his father always came easier than telling the whole story. A gut feeling, perhaps, or maybe an unspoken instinct to protect him.
His father's sharp eyes lingered on Nicholas for a moment longer, searching for cracks in his story, but finally, he sighed and nodded. "Alright. Just… be careful, okay? The city's not as safe as it used to be."
Nicholas nodded, but guilt nagged at him. He didn't like deceiving his father, yet the alternative seemed worse. Why burden him with worry over something that had already passed? Sure, he could have died today, but he didn't. No point in mentioning it now.
"Anyway," his father said, breaking the silence as he turned the TV off, "I'll be working late tonight. Don't wait up for me."
Nicholas frowned. "Again? You've been pulling a lot of late shifts lately. Is everything okay at work?"
His father hesitated, a rare crack in his composed demeanor. "It's just a busy season," he said finally, offering a small smile. "Nothing for you to worry about."
Nicholas didn't press further. If his father wasn't going to talk about it, there was no point in pushing.
Before leaving, his father paused at the doorway and glanced back. "Will you be able to pick up your brother from school?"
Nicholas nodded confidently. "Of course. You've got nothing to worry about. Even if something does happen, you can rest assured I'll protect him with my life," he said, his tone half-serious but laced with a hint of genuine resolve.
His father raised an eyebrow, scoffing lightly. "Yeah, well, I'd prefer having both of my sons stay alive, thank you very much." With that, he gave a small wave and walked out, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing faintly.
Nicholas let out a sigh, collapsing onto the couch. He idly scrolled through videos on his phone, the light from the screen casting faint shadows across the dimly lit room. The sound of rain pattering against the windows filled the silence.
Find me…
Nicholas sat up abruptly, his eyes darting around the room. The voice was soft and melodic, carrying an otherworldly quality that sent a chill down his spine. Yet, when he scanned his surroundings, he found nothing.
He frowned, rubbing his temples. It wasn't the first time he'd heard the mysterious voice. Over the past week, it had whispered the same enigmatic phrase in his ear, haunting him at the edges of sleep and wakefulness.
Putting his phone down, Nicholas exhaled deeply and decided to try something different. "Yeah? And how do I do that?" he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "You've been whispering the same thing for days. Care to give me a hint?"
He closed his eyes, taking a slow, measured breath, half-expecting silence in return.
I'm here.
His eyes snapped open, and the world around him vanished.
Darkness.
An endless, suffocating void enveloped him, stretching in every direction. His breath quickened as he instinctively looked around, but there was nothing—no ground beneath his feet, no horizon, no sky. Just black.
"What..?" Nicholas whispered, his voice trembling. The oppressive silence pressed against his ears, broken only by the faint sound of his own breathing.
Despite the alien nature of the void, he felt an odd, unsettling familiarity with it. His gut urged him forward, though he couldn't explain why. Trusting the feeling, he began to walk, each step echoing faintly in the emptiness.
He walked straight ahead, resisting the temptation to look back. Something about the thought of turning around filled him with dread.
Finally, after what felt like hours—or seconds—he saw it.
A glyph.
Suspended in the void, the glyph emitted a faint, otherworldly glow, its intricate lines and shapes pulsating with an ominous, white hue. Nicholas stared at it, his instincts screaming both curiosity and caution.
"I feel like touching this is a terrible idea," he muttered under his breath, glancing over his shoulder. "But I really don't like the whispers and footsteps I'm hearing behind me."
The faint murmurs had begun to rise in volume, accompanied by the sound of approaching footsteps. The invisible presence creeping closer sent a jolt of panic through him. With a grimace, Nicholas swallowed hard and reached out, his fingers trembling as they made contact with the glyph.
Nothing.
His touch elicited no reaction. No light, no sound, no change. Nicholas blinked in confusion, his gaze darting back and forth between the glyph and the encroaching darkness behind him.
"Do I need a chant or something?" he hissed, his voice growing frantic.
The whispers grew louder, the footsteps nearer. His heart raced as he desperately tried again, slapping his palm against the glyph. "Uh… uh! Hello? Mr. or Ms. Glyph, please do something!"
Still, the glyph remained unresponsive.
Nicholas clenched his fists, forcing himself to turn around, even as his instincts screamed against it. He expected to find a monstrous form or an unspeakable horror. Instead, he saw… nothing.
Nothing but the void.
And yet, the sensation of being watched, of being hunted, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
A cold, unnatural touch on his leg made him freeze.
Slowly, he looked down.
A pitch-black hand emerged from the void, its shadowy fingers gripping his ankle. Before Nicholas could scream, he was yanked downward, his body plunging into the endless darkness.
He thrashed and fought, his heart pounding like a drum. He could feel it now—something invading him, or perhaps something escaping from within. His mind raced, his vision blurring.
Then, a sharp, searing pain ripped through his chest.
An orb of light, radiant and fragile, burst forth from his body. Nicholas watched in stunned horror as the light floated in front of him, shimmering like a piece of his very essence.
"My… soul?" he whispered, the words barely audible.
The void shifted around him, the suffocating darkness drawn toward the orb, like water spiraling into a drain. Tendrils of shadow stretched and coiled, rushing into the light as if consumed by an insatiable hunger.
Nicholas could do nothing but watch, helpless and transfixed, as the darkness and the light merged into something incomprehensible.
After what felt like an eternity, the merging stopped. The orb now appeared divided into two distinct halves—one radiating pure white light, the other seething with inky blackness.
Nicholas barely had time to process the change before the orb shot back into his chest. The impact left him gasping for air, a strange mix of relief and exhaustion washing over him as he collapsed to the ground.
The power of darkness will grow as your understanding of the world grows.
When he opened his eyes, the void was gone.
He was back on the couch in his living room, staring at the faintly textured ceiling. Everything seemed normal, as if the surreal experience had been nothing more than a vivid dream.
"Did I… awaken? Awakened have said that it felt like they woke up from a dream… though that felt more like a nightmare."
Pulling out his phone, Nicholas checked the time: 17:30.
"Shit," he muttered, sitting upright. His brother's classes would end in less than an hour, and it was a nearly fifty-minute walk to the school. If he left immediately, he might just make it on time.
Rising from the couch, Nicholas stretched and grabbed his jacket. Though the rain had stopped and the sun peeked through the clouds, a cool breeze drifted in through the cracked window, hinting at a chill in the air.
He slipped on his shoes and headed for the door, making sure to lock it behind him before stepping outside. The streets were damp, glistening in the golden light of the late afternoon. The air smelled fresh, carrying the scent of wet asphalt and blooming flowers.
As he walked briskly toward the school, Nicholas couldn't shake the lingering feeling of unease from his earlier experience. His chest felt heavy, and every now and then, he caught himself glancing at his reflection in puddles on the street, half-expecting to see something unnatural staring back at him.
A sudden jolt of realization hit him. "Those words…" he murmured under his breath. "The power of Darkness..."
The words echoed in his mind, sending a chill down his spine. What did it mean? And what had just happened to him? He rubbed his temples, trying to piece together the fragmented memory of the void and the glyph.
"Focus, Nicholas," he muttered, shaking his head. "Pick up Evan first. Existential crises can wait."
The walk to the school was uneventful, though Nicholas's nerves remained on edge. As he approached the front gates, he spotted Evan sitting on the low brick wall near the entrance, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
His brother was around four years younger than him, he had light brown hair and amber eyes. Really, when comparing the two of them, the only thing they shared in common was their face, for which Nicholas felt sorry for his younger sibling.
Evan waved when he saw Nicholas. "Took you long enough!" he called out, hopping down.
Nicholas grinned, ruffling his younger brother's hair as he reached him. "Yeah, yeah. I'm here, aren't I?"
Evan swatted his hand away, laughing. "You look like you just ran a marathon. You good?"
Nicholas hesitated but forced a smile. "Of course. Just had to dodge some puddles on the way here. Let's go home."
As they walked back together, Evan chattered on about his day, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Nicholas's mind.
But a different storm was brewing above them. Before long, snow began to fall.
"What…?" Nicholas looked up, his face twisted in confusion as snowflakes landed on his cheeks. "What the..? Summer is right around the corner… so why is it snowing?"
He glanced around, expecting others to share his growing unease, but the people nearby didn't seem concerned. In fact, most seemed delighted, laughing and catching snowflakes on their tongues. Even Evan was giggling, twirling around as he tried to scoop up the delicate flakes.
'Am… am I the weird one?' Nicholas wondered, his chest tightening. Something felt off, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
Then the snow intensified, gradually transforming into a full-blown snowstorm. The wind howled, biting at his skin and making it hard to see.
"Evan!" Nicholas shouted over the roar of the storm. His brother turned toward him, his smile quickly fading as the cold began to sink in. Without hesitation, Nicholas knelt down, pulling Evan onto his back. "Hold on tight!"
He ran, the snow stinging his face as he made his way to the nearest shelter—a supermarket glowing faintly through the swirling white. Around them, others were starting to panic, sprinting in all directions as the unnatural storm grew stronger.
Nicholas pushed through the store's doors, gasping for breath as he set Evan down. The place was already crowded with people huddled together for warmth, their faces pale and anxious. That's when Nicholas noticed it: the power was out, and the usual hum of refrigerators and fluorescent lights was eerily absent.
He pulled out his phone and cursed under his breath. No signal.
'That's bad… really bad. A villain attack?' The thought sent a chill through him, one that had nothing to do with the storm outside.
"Bro."
Evan's voice snapped Nicholas out of his spiraling thoughts. He looked down at his little brother, who was tugging on his sleeve.
"Yeah?"
"Why couldn't we play at least a bit?" Evan asked, his voice innocent but tinged with disappointment. "I wanted to build a snowman."
Nicholas stared at him, deadpan. "It's way too cold out, and you're dressed in just a t-shirt and shorts."
Evan pouted. "But it's snow…"
Nicholas sighed, crouching down to ruffle his brother's hair. "Yeah, and snow's fun. But this?" He gestured toward the swirling chaos outside the store's windows. "This isn't normal, Evan. You'd get a cold in no time."
As if to punctuate his words, the wind howled louder, rattling the glass doors and causing a few people in the store to gasp. Nicholas clenched his fists. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but his intuition told him it wasn't just a freak weather anomaly.
The fearful crowd around him scrambled, dragging a shelf to block the doors.
Nicholas frowned. 'I guess they're not accepting anyone else.' The thought unsettled him. 'What if someone starts banging on the doors, begging to be let in? Would they just ignore them?' The idea left a bitter taste in his mouth.
It wasn't long before his fears became reality. A frantic pounding on the door echoed through the store, accompanied by desperate pleas for help. Nicholas scanned the room, his anger rising as he noticed many people closing their eyes or covering their ears, trying to block out the sound.
'Damned cowards. If guilt is eating away at you, why not just do something?' Grinding his teeth, Nicholas strode toward the shelf, ignoring the protests and shouts behind him. He gripped the edge and pushed, but it was heavier than he expected. The shelf barely budged.
"Stop that!" someone hissed. "You'll kill us all if the snow gets in!"
'Overdramatic much?' Nicholas resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Nicholas turned to face the crowd, his jaw tight with frustration. "You all might be comfortable with leaving someone to die, even when we could have helped them, but I'm not. They're out there begging to be let in. If you're too scared to do something, fine, but don't stop me from helping… Besides, I'll only slightly open it, I'm sure the snow hasn't accumulated that much."
For a moment, the crowd was silent, the only sound the muffled cries from outside and the howling wind. Then, one man stepped forward.
"I'll help," the man said quietly.
Nicholas nodded, gratitude flashing across his face. Together, they moved the shelf just enough to let the person in.
The stranger stumbled inside, shivering violently, their face pale from the cold. "Thank you," they gasped, tears streaming down their cheeks.
Nicholas turned to the man who had helped him. He was of darker skin, with short black hair and onyx eyes. Despite his soft-spoken nature, his actions had spoken volumes.
"Thanks," Nicholas said sincerely.
"It's no problem," the man replied, his voice gentle but steady.
Nicholas then turned his attention to the person they had just let in. Their frozen tears clung to their face, their skin pale and lifeless. Frowning, Nicholas reached for their wrist to check their pulse. It was faint—almost nonexistent.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath. 'They'll freeze to death at this rate.'
Quickly, he shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around the shivering form in an attempt to warm them, but it wasn't enough. Desperation creeping in, Nicholas noticed the man wasn't breathing either. Without hesitation, he began performing CPR, his hands trembling slightly as he pressed on the man's chest.
"C'mon, c'mon!" he urged, but the man remained unresponsive.
Closing his eyes, Nicholas focused, trying to think of what else he could do. He pictured warmth—something blazing and life-saving. Then, suddenly, he felt it: a surge of heat spreading through his hands.
His eyes flew open, and to his shock, two ghostly flames hovered over his palms. The outer cone of each flame was pitch black, while the inner core burned a pale blue. They didn't hurt him; in fact, he barely felt their presence.
"What…?" Nicholas whispered, his mind racing.
Something instinctual urged him to focus on warmth. He obeyed, envisioning an intense, life-giving heat. Instantly, the flames grew hotter, radiating warmth that seemed almost alive. He directed the heat toward the man, carefully ensuring it didn't burn, only warmed.
To his relief, the man's color began to return. The pallor in his cheeks faded, and his breathing resumed, shallow but steady.
Nicholas exhaled shakily, his relief palpable. When he willed the flames to disappear, they vanished without a trace.
"Is this… my power?" he murmured, barely audible.
The man who had helped with the shelf stared at him, his expression a mixture of astonishment and awe. "You're… you're an awakened?"
Nicholas glanced at him and shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "I guess?" he said, his tone uncertain but light.