The city never slept. Even at this late hour, New York pulsed with restless energy. Neon lights flickered over damp streets, traffic horns blared, and somewhere far off, a siren screamed into the night. People moved in hurried tides, bumping into one another, talking on phones, rushing toward some invisible purpose. Alex Mercer wove through them, hoodie drawn tight, hands buried in pockets. He didn't want attention, and the world seemed perfectly content to ignore him , which suited him just fine.
He kept his earbuds in, music blaring just enough to block the faint memory of last night's dream. It had returned again, stubbornly, like a persistent itch he couldn't scratch. Falling through a sky ablaze with fire. Wings snapping and burning. Voices calling a name he didn't understand. His chest had tightened as though the memory were physical, and for a moment he had gasped awake, drenched in sweat.
He shook his head, trying to shove it away. Dreams were dreams. They didn't mean anything.
And yet… something felt off.
A ripple ran through the air around him, subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to make him pause mid-step. Streetlights flickered. A car horn blared loudly for no reason, making a driver swerve. A man crossing the street froze mid-stride, eyes wide, staring at nothing. Alex's stomach twisted. He tugged his hoodie higher over his face, instinctively shrinking, pretending he didn't see.
Just your imagination, he told himself. Nothing to worry about.
He rounded the corner into a quieter street. The neon glow faded, replaced by shadows stretching between buildings like black claws. And still… the odd vibration hummed beneath his feet. His heart picked up its rhythm, a tiny, anxious drumbeat.
Across town, Adrian Vale felt it too. He was standing in the shadow of a skyscraper, fingertips brushing the smooth glass of the building as the hum pulsed through him. He inhaled sharply, a thrill curling in his chest. So it begins, he thought. Others were awakening, slowly, blindly, stumbling toward power they barely understood. Soon, they would come to him, thinking he was their natural leader, their rightful guide. He smiled to himself , a small, private smirk, knowing the game was already in motion.
Even now, he could sense it: a shiver of unformed energy here, a flicker of potential there. He didn't need to see it clearly. He only needed to feel it.
Meanwhile, Alex continued down his street. A neon sign buzzed and sparked overhead, and he flinched, glancing upward. Something or someone brushed past the edge of his perception. A shadow, a flicker, like wings folding and vanishing before he could look directly. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head. You're imagining things, he muttered under his breath, forcing his feet to move faster.
The street emptied a little as he passed, leaving only the echo of his sneakers against the wet pavement. A trash can rattled in the wind or maybe not the wind. He froze, listening, ears straining. For a second, he thought he heard a whisper. Then it was gone, and he laughed nervously. I'm losing it.
But he wasn't the only one noticing the shift.
In a cramped downtown café, Rile Kane slammed his fist onto the counter so hard that a cup of coffee skidded to the edge, spilling onto the tile. Sparks, blue and jagged, danced across his knuckles before vanishing as if they had never existed. He staggered back, eyes wide, panting.
"What… what the hell?" he whispered, voice trembling. His chest heaved, heart hammering in a rhythm that felt wrong, out of place. Fear and exhilaration churned inside him, messy and confusing. He wasn't alone. Somewhere, out there, others were stirring too. The city was alive with something he couldn't name , something ancient, something that had been asleep for centuries.
A barista glared at him from across the counter, hands frozen mid-wipe, coffee sloshing in her cup. "Are you okay?" she asked cautiously. Rile forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah. Yeah, fine." He muttered something under his breath and turned away, trying to make sense of it.
And still, he didn't notice Alex slipping past the café, hoodie up, earbuds in, oblivious. He walked as if nothing had happened, though a small pang of unease tugged at him. A tightening in his chest he couldn't explain. He shrugged it off, blaming hunger or stress, and kept moving.
The city, however, had other plans.
Lights flickered across buildings in distant neighborhoods. Subway trains shuddered without reason. On the surface, nothing seemed out of place, but in the tiny creases of the world, subtle cracks were forming. Tremors that humans couldn't feel, but that sensitive minds like Adrian's, like Rile's could detect. Powers long dormant were nudged awake, like seeds pushed through soil by a gentle but unstoppable force.
Vincent Corvo, deep in the backroom of his underground network, felt it too. His hands were on a ledger of numbers and transactions when his fingers tingled with energy. He froze, staring down at the paper, unsure if the prickling sensation was real or imagined. He could feel it in his bones: a shift, a movement in the world that his money, his contacts, his careful plans couldn't contain. Something bigger was coming.
Even Selena Vex, perched high above the city on a penthouse balcony, felt it ,the subtle brush of power like a pulse under her skin. She tilted her head, letting the wind whip her hair across her face. Her eyes narrowed. Something was stirring. Something she could feel, not see. And it was calling to her, in ways she didn't yet understand.
And Alex?
He was still oblivious.
He ducked into a narrow alley to avoid a particularly pushy group of tourists. Rain had begun to fall lightly, misting the edges of his glasses. For a moment, he paused to wipe them, and as he looked up, a strange reflection caught his eye.
It was faint. Just a flicker. He thought he saw wings behind a man walking past. Large, dark, impossible wings. They vanished when he blinked. He shook his head violently. No. No, just my imagination.
He kept walking. But the feeling didn't leave. Something inside him stirred , not power, not yet, but awareness. A pull toward the chaos he didn't understand. Toward the tremors, the sparks, the awakening that he should have been part of but wasn't… at least, not consciously.
The night stretched on, and the city hummed with unseen energy. Shadows shifted in corners. Figures moved with purpose, silent observers in the alleyways, the rooftops, watching, waiting. Angelic eyes—hidden, patient—tracked the stirrings of the fallen. Some would befriend. Some would eliminate. Orders were clear, but doubt was creeping in. The one they thought was powerless… might not be.
Somewhere, out of sight, Rile's hands shook as the last sparks from his awakening vanished into nothingness. Adrian smirked from his rooftop perch, watching the subtle movements of others in the streets. Vincent fumed silently over his accounts, feeling the stirrings of something that made him both excited and terrified. Selena's eyes glittered in the night, the wind carrying a whisper she didn't quite understand.
And Alex Mercer? He trudged home through the rain, hoodie soaked, headphones blaring, oblivious. But the tightness in his chest wouldn't let him ignore it entirely. Something was out there. Something was changing. And though he didn't know it yet, the world was already beginning to shift around him.
It wasn't just the tremors in the streets. It was the tremors in reality itself.