The battered chariot driver stumbled through the obsidian halls of the Dominion Spire, blood trailing behind him like a dark ribbon. His uniform was torn, half his face swollen from impact. But his voice—though shaking—was loud enough to echo across the marble walls.
"They're gone," he rasped to the sentinel guards outside the Throne Room. "Princess Adhivita and Professor Agastya—taken by rebels... from beneath."
The doors opened with a thunderous clang. The Dominion Commander sat atop his monolithic throne, his eyes dimmed like a storm waiting to break. On his right stood Lavin Vyer, the second prince, pacing like a caged animal.
Lavin's head snapped up as the driver collapsed to his knees, retching blood.
"What did you say?" he growled.
"Gone, my Prince. They were ambushed by the underground faction. A rebel strike... It was planned. Clean. Silent. They took the Princess and the Professor."
Lavin's face twisted into something dangerous. Without a word, he turned to the nearest guard by the door.
"You!" he barked. "Every man who was stationed outside her chambers—bring them here. Now."
The room tensed as a dozen guards were dragged in minutes later, forming a shaking line before the furious prince.
"Who let her out?" Lavin's voice was cold, almost amused. "Which of you thought it wise to disobey a direct order?"
Silence.
Then one guard, hesitant, muttered, "It... it was Professor Agastya. He insisted—he had clearance. He said—"
A sickening crack echoed through the hall as Lavin's armored fist smashed into the soldier's jaw, sending him crashing to the floor.
"Liars! All of you! How long have you been compromised?!"
The commander didn't move. His fingers curled around the hilt of his blade but remained resting. Then, beneath his breath—too soft for most to hear—he muttered:
"That damn old man…"
Whispers rippled like static through the chamber—fearful murmurs and second guesses until—
"SILENCE!"
The word ripped through the room like thunder. The Dominion Commander stood, his cape flowing behind him like a curtain of fire. Lavin froze mid-swing, and every soldier dropped into rigid formation.
His voice boomed again, deeper this time. "I want every hidden rat of these rebels unearthed—even if they hide in hell or soar to heaven. Search the floating city, the mines, the ground. Anyone—anyone—who even smells of rebellion… bring them in."
The soldiers pounded their fists to their chests, the sound rolling like a drumbeat of war. Lavin's smirk returned.
"It's time we remind this city who owns the sky."
Meanwhile, in the rebel underground base
Before Shivam's eyes shot open, he was somewhere else. A dreamspace.
It was his old school—his imagined sanctuary. The walls, the laughter of friends, the warmth of youth—it all hovered in place like a memory caught between sleep and death. But something was wrong. The basketball court cracked down the middle. Desks flickered in and out of reality. The blackboard shattered slowly into dust. The sky was no longer the sky. Above him loomed a twilight veil of swirling starlight and ash, Noctirium-blue veins crackling across the horizon.
And standing at the edge of the ruins was a man. No, a presence—shaped like his father. But glowing. Radiating. Eyes shimmering like twin galaxies.
Shivam took a step forward. The figure tilted its head. And then the voice came.
"You were never just of this world."
The words weren't spoken—they resonated through him. Vibrations in his ribs, in his blood.
"You and the ones beside you… you fell through time, through realms unknown. Carried on faultlines that should not meet." Shivam's mouth parted. "What do you mean?"
But the figure did not answer directly.
"Flight. Strength. Healing. Vision. Speed. Will. These are not powers. They are tools. The forge is you."*
"Push each time, and you will rise further."
"But know this—power does not corrupt. The man does. And only a good heart can bear the weight of a god."
Behind the figure, the world continued to crumble. The schoolyard was reduced to ash. Shivam's desk was swallowed in fire. The voice was bidding him farewell.
"Farewell, Shivam. Become more.""Become the symbol."
Then the figure vanished—like a ripple undone. And the school, his mind's shelter, collapsed inward. Shivam's eyes shot open, his body jerking upright with a gasp. Not the kind of waking where someone stretches and blinks and adjusts to the light.
This was raw. Violent. As if the world had grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back from death. But something had changed. His body—lean before—now carried the bulk of sharpened muscle. He stood taller, broader, his frame stretching past six feet. Veins along his arms shimmered faintly with a glow—cool, electric blue. The others around him stepped back.
"Shivam..." Naina whispered, stunned.
Professor Agastya, silent until now, stepped forward with measured urgency. "Don't move," he said. "Bring the compatibility rig. Immediately."
Technicians scrambled as Shivam was guided into a tall cylindrical scanner. The glass hissed closed around him. A soft thrum filled the air as beams of energy scanned his frame.
On the monitor, numbers flickered—then stopped. Noctirum Compatibility: 95.4% The room froze. Aman blinked. "That... that can't be right."
Even Agastya looked shaken. "Higher than the Dominion Commander," he murmured. "By nearly three percent. That's... unheard of."
Shivam looked down at his hands, the blue light still pulsing under his skin. Whatever had happened to him in the garbage pits, whatever dormant potential the Noctirum had awakened—it had rewritten his body.
"Your growth is... limitless," Agastya said slowly. " If we harness this... there is no one in the Dominion with potential like yours.
He turned to the others. "And if one of you has it—others might too." Aanchal crossed her arms. "You think all of us might be compatible?"
"It's possible. Even fragments matter. With proper resonance exposure, we may trigger dormant traces. But we'll need more Noctirum. A lot more." "Where do we find it?" Aman asked. "The Dominion keeps it locked tighter than their weapon vaults." "There are remnants," Agastya said. "In the mines beneath Sector 4 Near Raisena Hills Pre-collapse tunnels. Dangerous, unstable. But untouched. It's a chance." He didn't get to finish.
A rebel scout burst through the side hatch, chest heaving. "Emergency alert from Sector V-7. The Dominion Commander's issued a full-scale purge. Floating cities, mines, and all surface levels are under active watch. Any citizen suspected of sympathizing with rebels is to be detained."A collective breath left the room. The thousand souls within the rebel base fell into a stunned silence.
No one moved. No one whispered. It was as if the world had grown still in fear of what came next. In that silence, Shivam stood taller, his outline glowing softly beneath the flicker of ceiling lights—no longer a survivor, but something more. Something the Dominion wasn't ready for.
Later, Shivam quietly pulled Naina aside—out of earshot. "You okay?" she asked.
He hesitated, glancing once at the others, then back at her. "I saw… something. Before I woke up. A dream. A voice. It said…" He paused. "It said we're not from here. That we're echoes pulled across time. Across… worlds." Naina's brows knit. "Like dimensional travel?"
"I don't know." His voice was low. "I asked what it meant. But instead of answering, it just… faded. Left me with the riddle."
He didn't tell her about the voice's warmth, or how it had looked like his father. He didn't mention the collapsing dreamscape that once resembled their school. Or the way it had told him goodbye. She glanced away, thoughtful. "I overheard the rebellion's medics once.
They were talking about Noctirum. Said something about space-time distortions. Wormhole anomalies. They said people exposed to high levels… sometimes reported things they couldn't explain." A beat of silence stretched between them.