The morning sun that streamed through the academy's crystalline windows had always been Creed's silent herald.
Its golden rays caught the lustrous sheen of his hair and illuminated the confident set of his shoulders as he strode through the corridors like a young god walking among mortals.
Students would pause in their conversations to watch him pass, drawn by the natural magnetism that seemed to radiate from his very being, the way his blue eyes sparkled with the kind of inner fire that promised greatness.
That Creed Walden was gone.
The figure that emerged from his Villa on the morning after his cosmic nightmare bore only the faintest resemblance to the golden-haired prodigy who had entered it the day before.
Where once his hair had cascaded in waves of spun sunlight, now hung limp strands of faded gold, as if some vital essence had been drained from each follicle.
