I crammed my entire childhood into a backpack the color of traffic cones and regret. Comics? Stacked like Jenga in a hurricane. Books? Dog-eared survivors of a hundred bedtime sieges. Toothbrush—because even future legends get gingivitis. A linty army of vending-machine trinkets, one sock that absolutely isn't mine, and enough gummy worms to sedate a small dragon. Somehow the zipper closed without filing a restraining order. I gave it a proud little pat, like, "Good boy, you've contained the chaos—now let's go weaponize it."
I ninja-tip-toed into the hallway—cream walls, suspiciously quiet, the kind of quiet that says everyone's pretending they're not eavesdropping. There they stood: my personal Greek chorus. Mom—eyes shimmering like she'd already bookmarked the funeral scene. Dad—arms crossed, face set to "mystic brick wall." Siblings vibrating with enough energy to power a small theme park. Basically a row of human confetti cannons waiting for me to sneeze.
I swallowed what felt like a golf ball wearing a sweater. "So, yeah, I'm… leaving the nest. Don't burn it down while I'm gone."
Mom shook her head. "Don, this morning you said you were 'okay' and I swear Jupiter's moons filed for emotional damage."
I tried to laugh; it came out like a chicken gagging. "Mom, I'll be—"
She pressed a finger to my lips. "Shh. If you say 'okay' again the universe will unionize."
Dad finally unfolded his arms, looking like a statue that just remembered it has tear ducts. "Iris Town will chew you up, spit you out, and ask for dental records. But if you're set on being masticated—go be the tastiest hero they've ever chomped."
Roger that, Paternal Unit.
I cranked the door handle, heart drumming death-metal solos on my ribs. Turned back, flashed the grin of someone who's 70% confident, 30% caffeine. "Later, nerds. Try not to miss me more than Netflix."
Outside, the sky had switched to dramatic gold filter—totally gratuitous, 10/10 cinematography. I flexed my wings; purple lightning did the Electric Slide across them. Then—KABOOM—I rocket-launched myself skyward, leaving a shockwave that rearranged a few clouds and one unfortunate pigeon. Below, the Enchanted City glittered like a Vegas piñata filled with dragons and Wi-Fi. My family waved so hard I felt the breeze at 300 feet. Chest: tight. Eyes: misty. Ego: ballooning. Let's ride.
I loop-de-looped around a skyscraper, nearly collided with a cybernetic Uber dragon, and screamed, "WOO-HOO! TEN-YEAR-OLD COMIN' IN HOT!" because dignity is for people with fully developed prefrontal cortexes.
Train station. Yellow bullet-on-rails looking like a Twinkie on steroids. I dive-bombed, skidded across the platform (sparks: cinematic; ankles: questioning life choices). Slid into a seat, headphones on, world blurred into a time-lapse of neon spaghetti. Inside my chest: butterflies on espresso. Outside: cool as a popsicle in sunglasses.
Iris Town spilled open at night like a jewelry box moonlighting as a fairy tale. Cobblestones, glowy cottages, mountains wearing star glitter—basically Disney drank too much kombucha. A suit-clad greeter appeared, bowing like I was a walking IPO. "Mr. Celestianite, your charmed suffering begins now. Shall we?"
Kids froze mid-tag, parents paused mid-lecture, shopkeepers emerged like meerkats. Whisper-network activated: "That's the ten-year-old with the cosmic glow-stick stuck in his DNA." I waved like a halftime-show T-rex.
He led me to a navy-blue house squatting like a loyal bulldog. Door creaked open—cue the choir of destiny. I stepped inside, wonder bubbling up my esophagus. Walls smelled of fresh paint and imminent plot twists.
I dropped my ridiculous pumpkin backpack, hands on hips, grinning like I'd just hacked adulthood. "Alright, Iris Town. Let's see what you've got. And if you're mean to me, I'm telling my mom."
TWO MONTHS LATER
Life chilled out for a bit. And honestly? I spent that whole stretch low-key obsessed.
I remember how every day after school, I'd plop down in front of the TV or steal my dad's old tablet and watch anything with Power in it. News clips. Battle replays. Interviews where he tried to act humble but still looked like a walking thunderstorm. Even those cheesy action shows that exaggerated everything to the max.
Bro, I was locked in. Studying his every move like it was a final exam.
Cue the montage:
Me doing sloppy push-ups with a Power fight playing in the background.
Me practicing energy blasts in the backyard, accidentally blowing leaves everywhere.
Me rewinding slow-motion shots of his kicks and copying them—only to fall on my butt.
Me pointing at the screen all starry-eyed like, "Yo that's gonna be me one day."
Me drawing Power's emblem on notebook paper like it was some holy symbol.
And then real dedication hit. I wanted to get into Insane Middle School—the best of the best—but that tuition was basically a boss battle. So I hustled. Yard work. Trash runs. Deliveries. Random chores. Anything.
Iris Town should've been chill. Lanterns glowing, kids running around, stars flexing overhead. I was unpacking, thinking about my new room… when the ground trembled.
A deep, creepy rumble. Windows rattled. Dogs howled. And then—shadows. Giant ones. Dragons, black and violet, diving from the sky like nightmares.
The Lunaranites.
"TO ARMS!" one roared.
Instant chaos. People scrambling. Doors slamming. Kids crying. My chest tightened, fear spiking—yet under it all, something sparked inside me.
That little voice whispering: You can do this.
"Not tonight," I breathed, wings spreading.
Purple light burst from me—WHOOM!—as I shot into the air. I blasted the first Lunaranite with starlight. Scales shattered, sparks flew, and adrenaline hit me so hard my teeth were legit vibrating.
I dodged. Spun. Tried to keep up. Got smacked into a fence. Nearly face-planted midair. Got surrounded way too fast. My energy dipped. I was ten. Just a kid pretending to be a Hero.
Then—FWOOOOSH.
A streak of blue ripped across the battlefield. Power slammed onto the ground like a comet, aura blazing hard enough to light up the whole street. He moved like it was nothing—taking down Lunaranites like they were practice dummies.
The whole town went wild. Kids cheering. Adults yelling his name. "POWER! POWER! POWER! POWER!"
"Thank you, thank you citizens of Iris Town," he said in his usual heroic voice.
And then… he looked at me.
"You fought well, kid," he said quietly. "Real well. You've got the spark of a Hero." He first bumped me. A fist bump, from POWER?!!!
Something warm hit my chest like fireworks. Pride. Hope.
Because it wasn't just that he saved the town.
He noticed me.