The storm had been raging for so long that the entire city felt like it was holding its breath.
Thunder rolled across the sky in heavy waves, rattling the windows of the old apartment building where Kairo Dune, age fifteen and already tired of the world, sat curled up on the rusted sill. The glass was cracked in the corner, spiderwebbed from years of being struck by stray objects and cheaper-than-cheap repairs. Every flash of lightning illuminated the room in brief, ghostly silver — lighting up the posters taped on the wall of heroes he'd admired since childhood.
Men who could fly. Girls who could bend steel. Legends who could save a city with a smile.
Kairo had once imagined he'd grow into someone like them. Someone powerful. Someone who mattered. But lately… not so much.
He pressed his forehead against the cold glass and exhaled, watching the fog bloom and fade. The lights in his building flickered again. They always flickered when storms came — the wires here were older than he was, and his landlord never fixed anything unless it was on fire.
Maybe storms just don't like me either, he thought bitterly.
His phone buzzed. A message from his mom, who was on her fourth night shift in a row:
"You okay, Kai? Stay inside. Love you."
He smiled weakly.
She was never home, but at least she tried.
He typed back a quick "I'm fine" even though he didn't feel fine at all.
Because the truth was, he'd been running earlier. Running from the alley after school where the same boys cornered him again — boys with fists that hit harder than their insults. He never fought back; his mom worked too hard to get called into meetings about fights he'd never win.
So he ran.
He always ran.
And that was how he ended up near the old train yard, soaked, breathless, muddy, and angry at everything and nothing. He remembered gripping the metal fence, trying to catch his breath—as the sky roared above him, louder than usual, like something cosmic was tearing open.
Then came the lightning. Not a bolt.
A blast.
White swallowed him whole. The fence vibrated violently under his hands, but he didn't let go — couldn't let go. He felt something enter him, something alive and wild and roaring like a beast made of light. For a moment, he felt weightless. Powerful. Untouchable.
Then everything went black.
He woke up hours later lying in the mud, soaked, cold, and miraculously unharmed. No burns. No broken bones. No pain. The storm had weakened, but the faint glow still pulsed behind the clouds.
Kairo sat up slowly. His head spun. His clothes were warm — warmer than they should've been in the freezing rain.
When he touched the metal fence again, the streetlamp beside him flickered once… twice… then burst to life like someone had flipped a hidden switch.
His heartbeat quickened.
That wasn't normal. He held out his hand.
A tiny, quivering blue spark danced across his fingertips.
He stumbled back with a gasp. His pulse thudded in his ears, and with each beat, the spark grew brighter.
"No… no, no, no," he whispered, shaking his hand wildly until the light sputtered out.
He ran all the way home.
And now, sitting in the dim glow of the storm outside, Kairo pressed his hands together as if trying to hold in the impossible truth inside him.
His palms tingled… like they were remembering.
He tried to ignore it. Tried to sleep.
Tried to pretend he was just tired, scared, and imagining things.
But the next day at school proved he wasn't imagining anything.