Rain poured over Aether City, turning the neon-lit streets into rivers of color. Kayden pulled his hood tighter, amber eyes scanning puddles that reflected a chaotic swirl of blue and red lights.
The hum of hovercars, the chatter of pedestrians, the faint buzz of neon signs—it all felt normal.
Yet something deep in his chest told him it wasn't. A shiver ran down his spine, unnatural and insistent.
He had felt it before, in fleeting dreams, fragments of memory that weren't entirely his own, but never this sharply.
Tonight, it was as though the city itself whispered that something was wrong.
And then it happened. For a heartbeat, the world shifted. The buildings around him twisted into crumbling towers, the streets cracked, and the sky bled violet lightning.
Figures ran screaming into smoke and fire, their faces familiar yet impossible. Kayden stumbled, vision blurring, but before he could catch his breath, the illusion vanished.
The city returned to normal, rain falling in steady, relentless sheets.
Except for his wrist. A faint glow traced the veins beneath his skin, forming a sigil of intricate, swirling lines.
It pulsed in time with his heartbeat, small sparks of light dancing across his arm. Kayden's chest tightened. He pressed a hand against it, trying to make sense of the impossible.
And then the voice came, low and chilling: "The worlds will fall again… and this time, no one will survive. Not even you."
Kayden's breath hitched. Every rational thought screamed that this was impossible, yet a deep, primal part of him knew it was true.
"What… what does that mean?" he whispered, voice trembling. No answer came, only the sound of rain on concrete. Then, from the far end of the alley, a figure emerged.
Tall, draped in a dark cloak, hood pulled low, face hidden. The stranger moved with deliberate calm, each step carrying weight that made Kayden's knees weaken.
"You're awake," the figure said, voice smooth, resonant, almost cruel in its calmness. "It begins… again."
Memories—or something like memories—poured into his mind:
a city in ruins, towers collapsing under violet storms,
armies clashing under fire and smoke, faces he knew but couldn't place screaming as they vanished into ash,
a woman with amber eyes like his own reaching for him across impossible distances.
The sigil on his wrist flared, warmth crawling up his arm. Kayden staggered back. I've seen this before.
"Who… who are you?" he asked, voice barely audible over the rain.
The figure did not answer. Instead, a small pulse of light emitted from their hand, and Kayden's vision blurred once more.
This time, the images lingered: a battlefield with blood staining the earth, banners ripped and torn; a laboratory filled with shattered glass and flickering monitors, hands stained with blood; the woman with amber eyes burning with recognition, crying out his name across timelines.
And then, just as suddenly, the images stopped. The alley was empty. The rain fell normally, and the figure had vanished. Only the faint glow of the sigil remained on his wrist, pulsing as if alive.
Kayden sank to the ground, wet knees pressing against the cold concrete. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible.
What am I? Who am I? A flash of anger surged through him, followed by fear. The sigil burned brighter, tiny sparks jumping across his skin.
The voice returned, sharper, colder: "The worlds will fall again… and this time, no one will survive. Not even you."
His hands shook. He pressed the glowing mark against the alley wall, willing it away, willing the fire along his veins to stop. It did not relent.
Instead, it pulsed, a heartbeat of light and power older than the city itself. Somewhere deep within him, he understood: this was not just awakening.
It was a warning. The stranger, the visions, the sigil—they were all pieces of a puzzle he did not yet comprehend. And the puzzle's solution was the difference between survival and annihilation—not just for him, but for everyone.
A soft sound made him freeze. Water splashed lightly as something—or someone—moved in the shadows of the alley. Kayden's amber eyes darted toward it, heart hammering.
A figure stepped forward, fleeting, just a blur in the periphery. When he blinked, it was gone. And yet he felt its gaze, cold and distant, like the weight of all worlds pressing down on him.
This is only the beginning, he thought, every nerve screaming in warning. I am awake now… but how do I survive when even survival is impossible?
Lightning split the sky overhead, illuminating the city for a moment. The rain fell harder, drumming against the pavement, echoing in the alley.
The sigil pulsed once, fiercely, then dimmed to a steady glow. Kayden rose slowly, water dripping from his hair and clothes. His amber eyes glinted with fear—and determination.
The streets were quiet. The city oblivious to the storm he had just glimpsed. But Kayden knew better. Somewhere, lurking beyond perception, shadows were waiting. And this time, they would not leave anyone alive.
He clenched his fists, feeling the strange warmth of the sigil travel up his arms. The stranger's words echoed again in his mind, relentless and unyielding: "No one will survive… not even you."
And Kayden knew, deep in the marrow of his bones, that the world had changed forever. He took a deep breath, rain soaking his face, and stepped forward. The last survivor had awakened—but this time, survival itself was a lie.