Hex ran through the forest, but the trees did little to hide him. His chest burned with the effort, lungs screaming for air, legs shaking with exhaustion. The rain had started again, a cold, stinging downpour that soaked him through within seconds. It didn't matter. He barely noticed the water; all he could think about was the echo of Liora's final words—"Run."
He ran until the screaming of monsters and the crashing of the village fell silent behind him. The storm hid the sounds of pursuit, and the night sky seemed to swallow him whole. Hours—or was it minutes?—passed in a blur. Time had no meaning. The world was nothing but the cold bite of rain on his skin and the ragged sound of his own breathing.
When the first light of dawn touched the horizon, Hex found himself atop a ridge overlooking the smoldering remains of the village. Smoke rose in thin spirals from the blackened houses, and scattered bodies were already being claimed by scavengers—or worse, the monsters that had survived. Hex looked down at the ruins, at the life he had lost, and something inside him broke.
He fell to his knees, fists digging into the muddy soil. Tears streamed freely now, though they mixed with the rain and no one would ever know how much he had wept. He screamed, not with words, but with the raw weight of grief that had accumulated over a single night. A night that ended everything. A night that made him realize, for the first time, the true cost of weakness.
No parents. Gone.
No grandparents. Gone.
No friends. Gone.
No village. Gone.
And Liora… Liora, who had saved him at the cost of her own life. Gone.
The memory of her eyes—so filled with calm, even as blood poured from her chest—haunted him. "You have to live." That one sentence became a command etched into the marrow of his bones. He had survived. And that survival carried a price: a promise.
Hex did not cry any longer. He rose to his feet, wet clothes clinging to his body, hair plastered to his face. His hands, now bleeding from cuts in the underbrush, clenched into fists. He looked at the horizon, where the first rays of sun struggled through the storm clouds, and made a vow:
I will never be powerless again.
I will never be weak again.
I will make the monsters pay.
I will exterminate every last one of them.
The world did not forgive weakness. Hex had learned this lesson the hardest way possible.
⸻
The next years were an endless trial of survival. Orphaned, hunted, and alone, Hex became a shadow on the streets. No one cared about him, and few noticed his existence. He scavenged for food, slept in alleyways, and stole what he had to in order to stay alive. Pain became routine. Hunger became constant. The storms that beat against him, the cold that seeped through his bones, the days without warmth or hope—they all became part of him, molding him into something sharper, something harder.
At times, Hex thought of ending it all. What was the point of surviving when everything and everyone he loved was gone? But every time he reached that brink, he remembered Liora. Her sacrifice, her faith, her unwavering belief that he would survive. She had died so that he could live. How could he betray that? How could he end the one life he had left?
And then, when he was at his absolute lowest—cold, starving, and hollow—he found her.
Luna.
She was not a girl from his past. Not a memory. She was real, warm, alive, and luminous in a world that had been only shadow for so long. Her eyes sparkled with the kind of kindness Hex had almost forgotten existed. Her voice was gentle, yet filled with a strength that demanded trust. She took him in, fed him, clothed him, and for the first time in years, Hex felt human again.
Under Luna's care, Hex learned to eat without fear, to sleep without trembling, to breathe without counting the seconds until danger appeared. She gave him more than shelter—she gave him hope. She gave him purpose. And in the months that followed, Hex discovered a new reason to survive.
Luna smiled at him once, brushing wet hair from his face after a particularly violent storm had soaked them both. "You're strong, Hex," she said. "Stronger than you know. But you don't have to be alone anymore."
And for a fleeting moment, Hex allowed himself to believe it.
They lived together for years, surviving the world that had tried to crush him. And when they were both seventeen, they became a family. Twins—a girl and a boy—born into the light of a hope that Hex had never dared to dream of.
For a time, Hex believed that the universe had finally granted him peace. For a time, he believed that maybe, just maybe, he could finally lay down the burden of grief that had followed him like a shadow for so long.
But the world had other plans.
⸻
The night came like a storm incarnate. Thunder rolled across the sky, heavy and unrelenting, and the rain fell in sheets. Hex had gone to the store, a small errand to gather food for the family. On his way back, he had an instinct—a gnawing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong.
The car refused to start. He had no choice but to run the four miles home, the rain cutting into his skin like blades. By the time he reached the street where his home stood, the nightmare that had haunted his life since birth repeated itself in horrifying detail.
The house was destroyed. Splintered wood and broken glass littered the yard. Smoke and the stench of blood filled the air. Hex froze. His chest tightened so violently he thought it might collapse.
And then he saw them.
Luna. His light. His hope. His reason to live. She lay on the floor, broken, blood pooling around her. Her eyes, once so full of life, were now empty.
And the twins. His children, only a month old. The two of them lay still, lifeless, butchered.
Hex's body froze. The world became distant, muted. Sounds slowed. The storm continued around him, but it no longer touched him.
Then came the demon hunter.
"Sorry I'm late," the man said, voice calm, professional, detached. "I'll track down the demon responsible for this and kill it. I know it won't bring them back, but it's the best I can do. Truly, I am sorry."
Hex stared, unmoving. The hunter left in a blur, moving faster than the eye could follow, leaving Hex alone once more. Alone, drenched, and broken beyond words.
The boy who had survived everything before now had nothing left to hold onto. His hands shook as he reached for a blade, intending to end the cycle of pain with his own death.
But then, it happened.
A surge of energy unlike anything Hex had ever felt erupted from within him. Blue light engulfed his body, crackling and dancing like lightning caged in skin. He screamed—not in pain, but in astonishment. His power had awakened.
The speed force.