The fire had consumed three buildings before the city's automated suppression drones finally arrived. By then, it was too late for most of the structure. Families stood in the street, clutching whatever belongings they'd managed to save, watching their homes turn to ash and twisted metal.
Kaelen sat on a broken concrete block at the edge of the crowd, staring at his hands.
They looked normal now. Small. Pale. The hands of a four-year-old child.
But he'd felt it.
The power.
Like lightning trapped beneath his skin, waiting to be released.
"Kaelen?"
He looked up. Ryker stood in front of him, his face smudged with soot, his clothes singed. Behind him, Mira was being treated by a medical drone—a floating sphere that scanned her injured leg with cold blue light.
"Are you okay?" Ryker asked quietly.
Kaelen nodded, not trusting his voice.
Ryker sat down beside him. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Around them, the sounds of the city continued—sirens wailing, people arguing with enforcement officers, children crying.
"You saved us," Ryker finally said.
Kaelen didn't answer.
"That beam... it was huge. Even grown men couldn't have lifted it. But you did."
"I got lucky," Kaelen muttered.
"That wasn't luck." Ryker's voice dropped to a whisper. "I saw your hands. They were glowing."
Kaelen's stomach twisted. "You're imagining things. It was the fire—"
"Don't lie to me." Ryker's green eyes locked onto his. "We're brothers, aren't we? Brothers don't lie to each other."
The word hit Kaelen like a physical blow.
Brothers.
He looked away. "I don't know what happened, Ryker. I just... I just wanted to help."
"Well, you did." Ryker bumped his shoulder against Kaelen's. "You saved my mom. That makes you a hero in my book."
Kaelen's throat tightened. He wanted to tell Ryker the truth—that he wasn't a hero. That he was something else. Something dangerous.
But he didn't know how.
And deep inside his mind, that voice—that thing—was laughing.
"Yes, little god. Keep your secrets. See how long they last."
Three days later.
The survivors of the fire were relocated to a temporary shelter on the eastern edge of The Undercroft—a massive warehouse converted into rows and rows of sleeping pods. It was cramped, cold, and smelled like rust and unwashed bodies.
But it was better than being on the street.
Kaelen lay in his assigned pod—a coffin-sized compartment with a thin mattress and a single dim light—and stared at the metal ceiling inches from his face.
He hadn't slept in three days.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it.
The vision.
A world of impossible beauty. Floating islands. Dragons soaring through crystal-clear skies. Cities carved from white stone and gold.
And a man with silver hair, standing before a throne, smiling down at him.
"You will be great one day, my son. Greater than even me."
Kaelen's eyes burned. He pressed his palms against them, trying to make the images stop.
But they wouldn't.
"Accept it, Aelion. You cannot run from what you are."
"I'm not Aelion," Kaelen whispered into the darkness. "My name is Kaelen."
"Names are just words. They do not change the truth."
"Then what is the truth?"
Silence.
And then—
A sound.
Soft. Rhythmic.
Like breathing.
Kaelen's blood turned to ice. Slowly, he turned his head toward the entrance of his pod.
There was something there.
A shadow. Barely visible in the dim light. But it was there, crouched at the opening, watching him.
And then it moved.
It lunged.
Kaelen didn't think. He threw up his hands—
And light exploded from his palms.
The shadow shrieked—a sound like metal tearing—and recoiled, dissolving into smoke.
Kaelen scrambled out of his pod, his heart hammering. Around him, other pods were opening. People were shouting, asking what was going on.
But Kaelen wasn't listening.
He was staring at his hands.
They were glowing again. Faintly. Like embers in the dark.
And this time, they didn't stop.
"You're different."
The voice came from behind him.
Kaelen spun around, his glowing hands raised defensively.
A man stood there—tall, thin, wearing a long coat that looked far too expensive for The Undercroft. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his eyes...
His eyes glowed faintly red.
"Stay back," Kaelen said, his voice shaking.
The man tilted his head. "Relax, boy. If I wanted to hurt you, you'd already be dead."
"Who are you?"
"Someone who's been watching you." The man stepped closer, and Kaelen noticed something strange—the people around them weren't reacting. It was as if they couldn't see him. "You've awakened something, haven't you? Something old. Something powerful."
Kaelen's hands trembled. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." The man crouched down, bringing himself to eye level with Kaelen. "You hear a voice, don't you? In your mind. Whispering to you. Showing you things."
Kaelen's breath hitched.
"That voice," the man continued, "is not your enemy. It's a part of you. A piece of something ancient that was sealed inside your soul long, long ago."
"How do you know that?"
The man smiled—a cold, sharp smile. "Because I can see it. The seal. The mark of divine power etched into your very being." He straightened up. "You're no ordinary child, Kaelen. You're something far more dangerous."
"I'm not dangerous—"
"You lifted a burning beam that weighed half a ton. You conjured light from nothing. You survived a fire that should have killed you." The man's smile widened. "Oh, you're dangerous, boy. The question is... what are you going to do about it?"
Kaelen took a step back. "Leave me alone."
"I will. For now." The man turned to leave, then paused. "But a word of advice, Kaelen. In this world, the weak are crushed. And if you want to survive—if you want to protect the people you care about—you'll need to become strong. Stronger than anyone else."
"Why are you telling me this?"
The man glanced back over his shoulder. "Because I'm curious to see what you'll become. A hero? A monster? Or something in between?"
And then he was gone.
Vanished, as if he'd never been there at all.
Kaelen stood there, his hands still glowing faintly, his mind racing.
What am I?
"You are mine, little god. And soon, you will understand what that means."
The next morning.
Ryker found Kaelen sitting on the roof of the shelter, staring out at the cityscape.
"There you are," Ryker said, climbing up to sit beside him. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
Kaelen didn't respond.
"Hey." Ryker nudged him. "You okay? You've been acting weird since the fire."
"I'm fine."
"Liar."
Kaelen sighed. "Ryker... if I told you something crazy, would you believe me?"
Ryker frowned. "Depends. How crazy?"
"Really crazy."
"Try me."
Kaelen hesitated. And then, slowly, he raised his hand.
And willed the light to appear.
It came instantly—a soft, golden glow that emanated from his palm, warm and steady.
Ryker's eyes went wide. "Holy—"
"I don't know how I'm doing it," Kaelen said quickly. "I don't know what it is. But ever since the fire, I've been able to... do things. Weird things."
Ryker stared at the light, his mouth hanging open. "That's... that's impossible. People in The Undercroft don't have powers. Only the upper city—"
"I know."
"But you're—"
"I know."
Ryker was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. "This is the coolest thing I've ever seen."
Kaelen blinked. "You're not... scared?"
"Scared? Are you kidding? You're like... like a superhero or something!" Ryker grabbed Kaelen's shoulders. "Do you know what this means? You could do anything! You could—"
"Ryker." Kaelen's voice was serious. "You can't tell anyone about this. Not your mom. Not your dad. No one."
Ryker's grin faded. "Why not?"
"Because..." Kaelen looked down at his glowing hand. "Because I don't know what I am. And if the wrong people find out... they'll come for me. And they'll hurt anyone who's with me."
Ryker's expression hardened. "Then we'll just have to make sure no one finds out."
"Ryker—"
"I'm serious." Ryker held out his hand. "You're my brother, Kaelen. I don't care if you've got weird glowing hands or whatever. I've got your back. Always."
Kaelen stared at the outstretched hand.
And then, slowly, he took it.
"Always," he echoed.
That night.
Kaelen lay in his pod, staring at the ceiling.
The voice was back.
"You're beginning to understand, aren't you?"
"Who are you?" Kaelen whispered.
"I am the Catastrophe. The End of All Things. The force your father—your true father—sealed within you."
Kaelen's chest tightened. "My father..."
An image flashed through his mind—the man with silver hair, dissolving into light.
"Zephrion. God of Creation. He gave his life to stop me. And in doing so, he cursed you to carry my burden."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you need to know the truth. You are not just Kaelen, orphan of The Undercroft. You are Aelion, son of a god. And whether you accept it or not, you will need my power to survive what's coming."
"What's coming?"
The voice was silent for a moment.
And then—
"Everything."
The next day.
Kaelen stood in front of a broken mirror in the shelter's bathroom, staring at his reflection.
Silver hair. Gray eyes. A face that didn't quite belong to a four-year-old.
He raised his hand and willed the light to appear.
It came instantly, brighter than before.
And deep inside his mind, he felt it—the presence. The creature sealed within his soul.
The Catastrophe.
Crust.
"If I'm going to survive this," Kaelen whispered to his reflection, "then I need to get stronger."
"Finally. You're learning."
Kaelen clenched his fist, extinguishing the light.
"But I'm not doing it your way. I'm not going to become a monster."
"We'll see, little god. We'll see."
Kaelen turned away from the mirror.
Somewhere in the distance, Avalon Prime floated in the sky—a shining city of wealth and power.
And somewhere beyond that...
His destiny.