The first time my veins lit up, my mother thought I was dying.
I remember white lights, the smell of antiseptic, and her nails digging into my hand as she screamed for the doctor. I was eight. Feverish. Shaking. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
Then the power went out.
Every machine in the small hospital room went black at the same time—the monitor, the overhead light, even the fan in the corner. The only thing that still glowed in the darkness was me.
Blue.
Faint, flickering blue, like someone had poured liquid starlight into my veins.
"His arm—his arm!" my mother sobbed.
I looked down and saw it too. Lines of pale blue light pulsing under my skin, crawling from my wrist to my elbow, beating in time with my heart. For a second, I thought I was dreaming.
Then the wall clock above the door stopped.
The red second hand froze. The whole room went silent, like someone had hit mute on the world. My mother's mouth was open, but I couldn't hear her. I couldn't hear anything, not even my own heartbeat.
It was like time forgot what it was supposed to do.
Then—click.
The hand jumped forward three seconds. The lights blinked back on. The machines restarted with a chorus of beeps and whirs. My mother's scream slammed back into my ears like someone hit unpause on reality.
After that, the doctors wrote long words on clipboards and frowned a lot. They called it a "neurological episode." They called it a "strange vascular response."
They didn't call it what the kids at school would later call it.
Freak.
✦ ✦ ✦
Eight years later, the veins still glow.
They just do it more often now.
"Oi, alien," someone called from behind me. "Forgot your space helmet at home?"
I tightened my grip on my backpack strap and kept walking. The hallway of Westbrook High was already crowded and noisy, a river of uniforms and gossip and cheap perfume. I could feel eyes on the back of my neck like tiny burning dots.
Ignore them, Kian. Just get to class.
"Hey, I'm talking to you, glow stick."
A hand shoved my shoulder. I stumbled sideways, hitting the lockers with a dull clang. My books nearly slipped from my arm, but I caught them before they fell. I didn't need more attention today.
I turned my head slowly.
Three of them. Of course.
Jared, with his perfect hair and stupid smirk, stood in the middle. His two sidekicks—Mason and Tyler—flanked him like discount bodyguards. They all wore the same uniform as me, but somehow theirs never looked as worn or as faded.
"Morning, Jared," I said flatly. "Nice to see your ego survived the weekend."
A few kids snickered and hurried past, not daring to slow down.
Jared's smile sharpened. "You should be nicer, Kian. What if I tell everyone about your little… light show?"
My stomach dipped.
He was bluffing. He had to be. No one had seen anything last time. I'd been careful for months—long sleeves, deep breaths, keeping my head down, keeping calm—
My fingers were trembling.
Not now. Please, not now.
I pushed off the locker and tried to walk around him. He stepped right back into my path.
"What do you want?" I asked.
He leaned in, close enough that I could smell mint gum and arrogance. "I want to know if it's true," he whispered. "That your veins glow when you're scared. That you short-circuited the school's power last year. That your mom took you to some special doctor because she thinks you're… not normal."
My hand tightened around my backpack until my knuckles ached.
"Go away, Jared."
He chuckled. "Come on. Give us a little show. Just a tiny one." He snapped his fingers near my face. "Light up for us, alien."
Tyler laughed. "Yeah, man, maybe he can charge our phones."
Mason lifted his phone and waved it like a camera. "Maybe I'll post it. 'Westbrook High's Radioactive Freak.' Bet that'd go viral."
Every word was a match, striking too close to the things I tried not to think about.
You're fine. Stay calm. Keep your heart steady.
But my heart wasn't listening.
I could feel it pounding faster, each beat sending a hot rush of… something through my arms. The world seemed too bright, the hallway too loud, the edges of everything too sharp.
Jared poked my chest with two fingers. "What are you gonna do? Zap me?"
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
"You're in my way," I said quietly. "Move."
He didn't.
Instead, he slapped the books out of my hand. They hit the floor hard, papers sliding everywhere. A ripple of laughter rolled down the hallway. No one stepped in. No one ever did.
"Oops," Jared said. "Sorry, did that… shock you?"
My hands curled into fists.
Something buzzed in my ears, low and electric, like a distant storm.
"Kian."
The voice was soft. Calm. It came from behind Jared's shoulder.
All three of them turned.
She stood a few steps away, hugging her notebook to her chest.
Short dark hair that curled at the ends, like it was always catching a breeze that wasn't there. Skin the color of warm bronze. Eyes so dark they looked almost black at first, until the light caught them and showed tiny flecks of silver—like stars drowned in ink.
Nyra.
Transfer student. Arrived three months ago. Sat in the back of our math class and never talked much. People said she was weird, but not in the same way I was. Her weird was… quiet. Harder to point at.
She looked at Jared, then at me, then back at Jared.
"You're blocking the way," she said calmly. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried, clean and steady. "Move."
Jared barked a laugh. "And what are you gonna do if I don't, new girl? Tell the teacher?"
Nyra blinked slowly, as if she was trying to understand why he was still talking.
"For someone with such a small mind," she said, "you're very confident."
The crowd murmured. That got his attention.
His face darkened. "What did you say?"
I swallowed. "Nyra, it's fine. Just go."
Her gaze slid to mine for the briefest second. Something like worry glinted in those star-flecked eyes.
"No," she said. "It's not fine."
She stepped forward.
Jared shoved her shoulder, harder than necessary. "Back off. This is between me and the alien."
Time slowed.
I saw Nyra's foot skid a little. I saw my own hand shoot out to steady her. I heard my heartbeat slam against my ribs—once, twice, three times.
And then I saw it.
Faint, under the skin of my wrist where my sleeve had ridden up.
Blue.
My veins were glowing.
Oh no.
I grabbed my sleeve and yanked it down, but it was too late. The buzzing in my ears rose to a roar. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered wildly, humming like they were about to blow.
Someone gasped. "Did you see that?"
"My phone—my phone just died!"
"Why are the lights—?"
The hallway plunged into darkness.
Every single light went out at once. A chorus of shocked screams echoed around us. Lockers rattled as people bumped into them blindly. Phones lit up, then blinked out as if someone had sucked the batteries dry.
The buzzing in my ears sharpened into a high, painful whine.
No, no, no. Stop. I didn't mean—
The wall clock at the end of the hallway caught my eye through the dim emergency light over the exit.
The red second hand froze.
Everything went silent. The panic, the footsteps, even the echo of Jared's curse—cut off mid-syllable. The air itself felt thick, heavy, like I was trying to breathe through water.
I was the only thing that seemed to be moving.
Or maybe: the only thing that could see.
My veins burned under my skin, glowing brighter now, shining through the fabric of my sleeve. I stared at my hands, trembling, lit from within by that same cold, starlit blue.
What are you doing to me?
For a heartbeat that stretched forever, the world hung suspended.
Then the second hand jerked forward, skipping three seconds in an instant.
Sound crashed back into my ears. The hallway erupted into chaos. People pushed and shouted. The lights flickered weakly, trying to come back to life.
I staggered back, my breath jagged, my head spinning. The glow slowly dimmed, retreating under my skin like it had never been there.
Jared stared at me with wide eyes.
"What… what the hell are you?" he whispered.
I didn't have an answer.
Nyra stepped between us, slightly in front of me, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
She looked at my hand, then up into my face.
For the first time since she transferred to this school, I saw real fear in her eyes.
Not fear of the dark.
Not fear of Jared.
Fear of me.
"…Kian," she said softly, too softly for anyone else to hear. "It's starting."
A chill ran all the way down my spine.
"Wh–what's starting?" I managed.
Her fingers brushed my wrist for just a second, right where my veins had glowed.
"Your awakening."
And before I could ask her what that meant, a shrill alarm rang through the school, drowning out everything else.