The sky hung low and heavy, swollen with dark clouds that pressed down on the small, forgotten town of Greyford, New York. The air felt thick, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something inevitable.
"It looks like it's about to rain… Should I even go to school today?"
The thought drifted through the boy's mind, quiet but persistent.
He stood at the edge of a cracked sidewalk, his small frame—barely five foot two—outlined against the distant skyline. Far beyond the decay of his world, towering glass buildings pierced the horizon, their polished surfaces catching what little light remained. They didn't belong here. They belonged to another life. A better one.
A life he would never reach.
Still… he stepped forward.
The moment he moved, the cold greeted him. His long, jet-black hair swayed with each step, brushing against his worn collar. He glanced down at himself—his uniform barely held together. The shirt was faded and torn in places, threads hanging loose like they had long since given up. His shoes… they looked as if they had survived more years than he had. The soles were thinning, edges frayed, barely clinging to form.
He coughed softly.
A thin mist escaped his lips, visible in the chilled morning air.
Am I really supposed to survive like this?
Greyford wasn't kind. It never had been.
The streets told their own story—one of neglect and quiet suffering. Crumbling apartment blocks leaned tiredly against one another, their windows either shattered or boarded up. Rusted fire escapes hung like broken ribs along the buildings. Graffiti covered nearly every surface—layers upon layers of anger, desperation, and forgotten names.
People lined the sidewalks.
Some sat slumped against walls, wrapped in dirty blankets, their eyes distant and hollow. Others wandered aimlessly, speaking to no one. Women in revealing clothing lingered near street corners despite the cold, their forced smiles aimed at passing men—survival disguised as choice.
And then there were the gangs.
They moved in clusters, loud, territorial. Their presence filled the streets with tension. Laughter, threats, deals whispered in corners—it all blended into the background noise of Greyford. The boy kept his head down as he passed them. He had learned long ago: being unnoticed was safer.
His stomach tightened.
He hadn't eaten.
Not yesterday. Not the day before that… not properly, at least.
School was the only place where he could eat, even if it was just scraps or leftovers someone didn't want. That alone made the decision for him.
It was Monday.
He had to go.
Even if everything about it felt… wrong.
He let out a quiet breath, almost a bitter laugh.
"Everything is shit…"
At Newland High School, things weren't much better—at least not for him.
They laughed at him there.
Not always loudly, not always directly—but enough.
He smelled. Not because he wanted to, but because he had no choice. No home. No clean clothes waiting for him. No one to care.
He liked a girl there, too.
But he never said a word.
How could he?
A homeless boy, with torn clothes and hollow eyes… standing next to someone who lived in a world of light? It was almost funny.
And yet… somehow, he was there.
Somehow, he was allowed to sit in those classrooms, to learn, to exist among them.
Even if he wasn't officially registered.
Even if, on paper, he didn't exist at all.
The reason was simple.
Words.
He understood them—deeply, unnaturally. Language, logic, patterns… they bent around his mind like they belonged to him. His intelligence wasn't just high—it was sharp, almost unsettling. He saw things others didn't. Solved problems before they were fully explained.
Teachers noticed.
Students depended on him.
He helped them study, pushed them, guided them—sometimes harshly, sometimes patiently. And because of him, Newland High had become something strange… a public school outperforming elite institutions.
All because of a boy no one truly saw.
A drop of water hit his cheek.
Then another.
And another.
Rain.
It came slowly at first, like a warning… then all at once.
The sky opened.
Water poured down, soaking the streets, washing over the dirt, the grime—the smell.
The boy stopped walking.
He stood there, unmoving, letting the rain drench him completely. His hair clung to his face, his clothes grew heavy, but he didn't care.
For a moment…
It felt clean.
He tilted his head upward, closing his eyes as the rain traced down his skin. Then, slowly, he opened them.
Light blue.
Clear. Bright. Almost unreal.
Like sapphire beneath a storm.
And for the first time that morning… he smiled.
Not wide. Not joyful.
But calm.
Peaceful.
As if, just for a second, everything was quiet.
Then—
CRACK.
Lightning tore across the sky.
But this wasn't normal lightning.
It burned.
Molten gold streaked through the heavens, threaded with silver veins and something darker—something almost red, almost black. It twisted unnaturally, as if alive, as if searching.
And then—
It struck him.
There was no time to react.
No time to think.
The world exploded into light.
Heat consumed him instantly—his body searing, his skin charring as the force ripped through him. The smell of burning filled the air as his vision collapsed into darkness.
And just like that—
Everything went black.