Ray sat on the living room floor, knees scuffed, a wooden toy plane clutched in one hand. His laughter bounced off the old walls as his dad scooped him up, strong arms lifting him easily into the air.
His dad had thick black hair and glasses that were always crooked. He didn't say much—he never needed to. The warmth in his grin said enough. He held Ray above his head for a moment, then pulled him in for a tight hug.
Ray looked over his shoulder and saw his mom in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed. Her red hair caught the light, falling loose past her shoulders, and her hazel eyes softened when she smiled. There was something about that smile—it made the whole house feel like it was holding its breath, just to stay quiet and still a little longer.
She walked over and rested a hand on her husband's back, the other brushing Ray's cheek.
"He's getting heavier," she murmured with a soft laugh.
"Good," his dad said. "Means he's growing."
Later, Ray sat curled in her lap on the couch. She ran her fingers slowly through his hair, humming the same lullaby she always did when the wind picked up. The kind of hum that made your chest feel warm and sleepy. Outside, the windows rattled. He pressed closer into her, burying his face in the fabric of her sweater.
Then the mood changed.
Rain hammered against the glass. The house—usually so full of light—felt smaller. Tense. Like the walls were holding their breath, too.
His dad moved quickly, stuffing papers, blueprints, and strange metal pieces into a leather satchel. He wasn't speaking. His jaw was tight. Every movement had a purpose, a weight to it.
His mom stood behind him, holding something close to her chest—a pendant, gold and strange, shaped like nothing Ray had ever seen. When she opened it, the inside shifted like a puzzle in motion. A faint glow came from its center, pulsing gently. Breathing.
Outside—footsteps. Shouting. Sirens, drawing closer.
"They're here," his father whispered.
His mother crouched in front of him, pressing the pendant into his hand.
"Ray—listen to me." Her voice was calm, but trembling. "You have to hide. Take this. Don't ever let them find it. Not ever."
He opened his mouth to ask why, but she was already kissing his forehead and guiding him to the corner. The floorboard came up with a creak. She helped him down into the hollow space.
"Stay quiet, baby. We love you. So much."
The board slid shut above him.
Then—chaos.
The front door shattered off its hinges. Heavy boots thundered in. Voices yelled.
"Where is it?!" someone roared.
A man stepped into the house, tall, dressed in a military-grade vest with an infinity symbol stitched across the chest. Underneath, his sharp suit remained dry despite the storm. His golden eyes gleamed with fury. Two armored guards flanked him, dragging Ray's parents into the center of the room.
"You think you can just take something like this and disappear?" he snarled.
Ray's father lifted his chin. "People like you don't deserve that kind of power."
The man's fist cracked across his mouth. Blood hit the floor.
"Idiot," the man muttered, turning to his men. "Search everything. Tear this place apart."
Boots stomped upstairs. Cabinets slammed open. Debris rained from the ceiling.
Then, one of the guards paused. Standing directly over the loose floorboard.
He knelt.
Fingers brushed the seam.
SMACK.
Ray's head snapped up. His breath caught.
Ms. K's hand had just struck her desk. Ray blinked, disoriented. The dream scattered like ash. Fluorescent lights buzzed above. Chalk dust. Polished desks. School.
"He's up," someone whispered, snickering.
Ms. K stood at the front of the classroom, arms crossed. Her violet ponytail swayed slightly as she tilted her head.
A boy near the back leaned toward a girl. "He's that transfer, right? Probably doesn't even know you're not supposed to nap during Quantum History."
Ray rubbed his face, still half in the memory. His chest ached.
"Or maybe he's just bored out of his mind like the rest of us," someone else muttered.
Another voice cut through—smooth, smug, too entertained for its good.
"He was dreaming about his parents," a student said. "Real emotional stuff too—lots of crying."
Laughter erupted. Chairs scraped against the floor. A few kids mimed fake sobs.
Ray turned sharply. His eyes locked on the mind-reader—a lanky kid with silvery-blue hair and a smirk too wide for his face.
"You go snooping around my head again," Ray said coldly, "I'll kill you."
"Maybe stay awake in class. Makes it harder to snoop around that empty head of yours."
Ray gritted his teeth
The room fell silent.
SLAM.
Everyone's heads were yanked down, faces smacking their desks with a thud. A gravity wave surged through the room, pinning them in place.
Ms. K hadn't moved.
"That's enough! No fighting in my class," she said flatly. "Save it for the bell."
The pressure vanished just as fast. Students groaned, some rubbing their jaws or clutching their noses. Ray just sat there, fists clenched.
The mind-reader didn't say another word.
"Now that we've rejoined the waking world," Ms. K said, turning back to the board, "let's continue."
The rest of the class passed under a thick, unspoken tension.
When the bell finally rang, Ray had barely started packing when a book launched at him—fast, sharp. It spun mid-air, crackling with a shimmering purple aura, like liquid lightning.
"Hold it right there," Ms. K said.
The book froze, suspended inches from his face.
"That was thrown with ill intentions, Ms.K,"
Ray's hand was already on the door handle when her voice sliced through the air again.
"Sit back down, Ray."
He hesitated. There was a challenge in her tone, the kind you didn't ignore. With a sigh, he turned back and slumped into his seat.
The class had mostly settled, but the air still crackled with leftover energy.
Ms. K stood tall at the front of the room, commanding without a single wasted motion. Her black blazer hung over a dark maroon blouse, sleeves rolled up to reveal faint scars crisscrossing her forearms—quiet reminders of battles she never mentioned. A thin glowing bracelet clinked softly as she reached for her pen. Her only other jewelry: small silver studs that gleamed under the overhead lights.
Her violet hair, pulled into a tight ponytail, shimmered slightly when she turned. It framed sharp features—high cheekbones, a defined jaw, and eyes so dark they almost swallowed the light. Eyes that missed nothing.
She didn't look up as she spoke, her pen gliding across the stack of student files on her desk.
"I've read your profile, Ray."
He paused at the door.
"You transferred here without a gift." She flipped a page. "That's... impressive."
Ray raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect a compliment."
"It wasn't one."
The room fell quiet.
"This academy was built for gifted students. Every person in these halls can level a building, tear apart minds, or bend the laws of physics." She finally looked up. "You can't."
Ray met her gaze without flinching.
She leaned back in her chair.
"I don't know what strings got you admitted, and I don't care. While you're here, you're no different from anyone else. You follow the rules, you stay in line, and you don't give me a reason to regret your admission."
"Your file says you insisted on coming here despite that."Her expression remained unreadable.
She tapped the folder once.
"That tells me one of two things."
Ray raised an eyebrow.
"You're either hopelessly stubborn..."
A brief pause.
"...or you believe you have something worth proving."
"Which one do you think it is?" Ray said with a grin
Ms. K slid the file into a drawer.
"I'm hoping it's potential."
For the first time that morning, Ray didn't have a smart remark.
There was something in her tone that made Ray think she wasn't talking about school.
As she sorted the last of the papers, her voice came again—quieter this time.
"Good talk, now go to class, Ray."
Ms. K looked up once more, her expression softer—but not kind.
"Next time, think carefully before you act," she said. "You won't always get a second chance."
Her words followed him as he stood. A warning. A challenge. A threat.
He had other things to worry about.
As he stepped into the hallway—
"Hey, transfer!"
Ray turned.
A student leaned against the lockers—same build as the mind-reader, but a different face now. His skin shimmered like mercury, shifting as he grinned. Eyes flickered colors like glitching pixels.
"You cry in all your naps, or was today special?" the shifter mocked, morphing his face into a baby version of Ray and letting out a fake sob. "Mommy, don't take my locket!"
Ray didn't stop walking.
"Class act," he muttered over his shoulder.
The shifter laughed, fading into the crowd.