The world outside his window was still dark when Stephen slipped out of bed.
He didn't bother with shoes. His feet barely made a sound as they touched the floor, cool and quiet. The house was asleep—Mark snoring faintly through the wall, his mom's bedside lamp casting its usual warm glow, and his dad… somewhere deeper in the house. Always just out of reach.
Stephen moved like a shadow. Careful. Controlled. His fingers ghosted over the stair rail as he passed, more out of habit than need.
He didn't need sleep. He could feel it now—know it. His body just kept going. No aching, no foggy brain, no hunger pulling at him from the inside. Just… stillness. Energy humming gently under his skin, like a low, steady current that never quite faded.
He stepped out into the backyard.
The sky was pale and early. The kind of blue that hadn't made up its mind yet. Dew clung to the grass. His breath puffed in the chill, but his skin didn't react.
He tilted his face toward the horizon.
The sun hadn't risen yet.
But he could feel it coming.
_ _ ♛ _ _
He tested himself again that morning.
Not with numbers or books, but with his body.
He stood at the far end of the yard and sprinted. Fast. Fast enough that the garden fence at the end blurred before his eyes could adjust. He stopped a hair before impact, breathing even. No strain. No heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Again. Again.
He timed himself. Guessed distances. Pushed further.
Then he jumped.
Straight up.
His feet hit the ground with a dull thud, but he barely felt it. The air around him shifted. Lifted.
Not flight. Not yet. But… something.
The sun rose slowly behind the trees, casting long beams across the grass.
And that's when he felt it.
Like a door unlocking.
The light hit his skin and sank deeper than warmth should. It filled his chest, made his bones feel lighter, his breath steadier. His fingers flexed without thinking.
His vision sharpened. He could see individual veins in the leaves. Hear a squirrel's claws scratching bark from two houses over.
He sat down in the grass and held his hands out in front of him. Watched the light catch on his knuckles.
It felt like charging.
It felt like waking up.
_ _ ♛ _ _
He didn't tell anyone.
How could he?
He was ten. What would he even say?
Hey, I think I'm solar-powered and might accidentally crush my own furniture someday, but don't worry—I also understand vector calculus and read at a college level now. Totally normal.
He played along.
At school, he nodded at the right times. Smiled when someone cracked a joke. Answered a question in math class, even though he already knew what the teacher was going to say before she said it.
When he held a pencil, he held it carefully. Lightly. Like too much pressure might snap it in half.
It had once.
He still had the halves in his backpack. A reminder.
_ _ ♛ _ _
During recess, he wandered to the edge of the blacktop. The others were loud, kicking balls, laughing too hard at nothing.
He watched. Not out of jealousy—just… distance.
He didn't mind being alone. Not really. But sometimes, he caught himself pretending.
Pretending to be tired. Pretending to struggle on a question. Pretending his eyes didn't track the movement of a bird in the sky three blocks away.
That was the hardest part.
The pretending.
_ _ ♛ _ _
The library helped.
He went there during lunch. Said he was avoiding the cafeteria smell.
He devoured books. Not just superhero stuff—but physics, engineering, anatomy. Systems. Structures. He liked things that worked. Things that had rules and blueprints and explanations.
Because whatever was happening to him?
It didn't come with instructions.
He could remember who he'd been before—vague pieces. Enough to know this wasn't normal. Enough to know that rebirth shouldn't feel this… calculated.
This was a gift, his reincarnation gift.
Or maybe a trap.
And either way, he needed to understand it.
_ _ ♛ _ _
That night, he climbed back onto the roof.
Mark wasn't there this time. No one was.
He sat cross-legged, hoodie zipped up, watching the stars blink quietly into place.
The sun was gone, but the charge remained. Not full—but present. Like a second pulse under his skin.
His fingers tapped a rhythm on his knee. Not nerves. Just… thought.
He remembered the look Dad had given him last week. It had only lasted a second. But it was sharp. Measured.
Like he was being evaluated.
Does he know?
Stephen had no way to be sure. But he was starting to see the signs.
Mark was still waiting for his powers. Watching the sky for them.
Stephen?
Stephen was already becoming something else.
He didn't know what.
Not yet.
But he was going to find out.
And when he did?
He'd be ready.
End of Chapter 14