The Transcendent community called them Wraiths. People also refer to them as lesser spirits. A popular type of Wraith was the kind that feeds on human vitality and lifeforce, like in some ghost stories. The Wraiths were just one category of otherworldly beings that had begun appearing seventeen years ago, coinciding with what the media had dubbed "The Awakening."
Suddenly, people around the world had discovered abilities—some could manipulate elements, others could enhance their physical capabilities, and a select few could even perceive and interact with entities from beyond the veil of normal reality.
The advent of skill crystals had followed, commodifying these abilities for those without natural talents. Basic skills were affordable, while advanced abilities cost small fortunes. A whole industry had sprouted around the phenomenon, complete with regulatory bodies, ranking systems, and professional applications.
Marcus had never bothered with any of it. What use were supernatural abilities to someone who couldn't even walk? How would elemental manipulation improve a life confined to an apartment and a wheelchair?
But now, staring at accounts of Wraiths and their feeding habits, he reconsidered. The creature that had killed Mrs. Abernathy was still out there. And if the forums were to be believed, it wasn't alone.
The thought that had been germinating for weeks finally bloomed into resolution. He would find a way to fight back. To hunt these creatures. To gain vengeance for Mrs. Abernathy, for his parents, for his girlfriend, for himself.
Marcus believed the incident that claimed his parents wasn't an accident. It was around the same time that news of otherworldly creatures and those with abilities became popular. However, he knew for certain that his girlfriend died because of a dimensional rift caused by an invasion from another world and that Mrs. Abernathy was killed by one of those Wraiths.
His gaze drifted to the service revolver in its lockbox on the top shelf of his kitchen cabinet. It was his father's gun, preserved from the accident. For days, he had contemplated using it on himself, ending the isolation and pain once and for all. But the burning need for revenge had stayed his hand each time.
Now, that same need gave him purpose.
Marcus wheeled himself to his computer and began a new search: "Professional Shop Center – basic skill crystals – prices."
The nearest center was fifteen blocks away. With his customized wheelchair, it would be a challenging journey but not impossible. He hadn't left the apartment since Mrs. Abernathy's death, but this was worth the effort.
His reflection caught his eye on the darkened computer screen. —Hollowed cheeks, unkempt hair, and the shadow of facial hair. He barely recognized himself. But beneath the haggard appearance, a spark had ignited in his eyes.
"Enough hiding." He whispered to his reflection. "Time to fight back against those bastards who took everything from me."
He reached for his phone and dialed the number for the accessible transport service. As he waited for the operator to pick up, Marcus felt something he hadn't experienced in years.
—Anticipation.
Not hope because he was far too broken for that, but anticipation for the future.
"Transport services, how may I assist you today?"
A cheerful voice answered.
"I need to schedule a pickup."
Marcus replied, his voice rough from disuse.
"Tomorrow morning. I'm going shopping."
…
The next day.
The morning arrived with a cruel indifference to Marcus's intentions. Heavy rain, just like the night of the accident, pattered against his apartment windows. He stared through the droplets, tracing paths down the glass, his reflection fractured and distorted.
"How annoying."
He had come to hate the rain as it was a constant reminder of the tragedy that befell him and his family.
Some time later, his phone buzzed with a text message.
"Transport arriving in 15 minutes.
- City Access Services."
Marcus had already dressed, a process that took him nearly twice as long as it would an able-bodied person. Dark jeans covered his atrophied legs, and a black hoodie hung from his thin frame. He hadn't bothered much with appearance since Mrs. Abernathy's death, but today felt different. Today was the beginning of a change in his boring life.
He checked his wallet again. He only had five thousand credits, nearly a quarter of his monthly allowance from the trust. Basic skill crystals weren't cheap, especially for someone with no income beyond his inheritance.
The online listings showed Wind crystals starting at three thousand credits. It was the most affordable entry-level skill on the market. Fire and Water crystals cost more, given their obvious utility, while Earth crystals demanded premium prices for their defensive capabilities.
Marcus hadn't handled this much money in years. Mrs. Abernathy had always managed his finances, ensuring his bills were paid and his needs met. Now the responsibility fell to him alone.
The elevator chimed its arrival on the seventh floor, interrupting his thoughts. Marcus wheeled himself out of his apartment, locking the door behind him. The hallway stretched before him, empty and silent. Most of his neighbors worked day shifts; the building primarily housed middle-income workers who couldn't afford the luxury apartments in the city center but needed proximity to their jobs.
As he lived on the seventh floor, the elevator ride to the ground floor felt interminable. Marcus avoided looking at his reflection in the mirrored walls, focusing instead on the descending floor numbers.
With each passing floor, his resolve strengthened, and his heart rate increased in anxiety. But his resolve trumped his anxiety. By the time the doors opened to the lobby, he was no longer anxious.
Rain continued to fall outside, forming puddles on the cracked sidewalk. The transport van waited at the curb, its driver already stepping out with an umbrella.
"Mr. Thorne?"
The driver called out. It was a stocky man with a neat beard and the company's blue uniform. His name tag read "Devin."
Marcus nodded, wheeling himself forward.
"Let me help you with that."
Devin offered, moving to take control of the wheelchair.
"I can manage."
Marcus replied more sharply than intended. Years of dependency had left him fiercely protective of what little autonomy he had.
"Of course, sir. Just let me know when you're ready for the ramp."
Devin backed off with practiced understanding.
The rain soaked through Marcus's hoodie as he navigated to the van. Water dripped down his face, but he made no move to wipe it away.
Once positioned at the van's side entrance, Marcus finally nodded to Devin, who deployed the mechanical ramp. The rhythmic whirr of its motor competed with the pitter-patter of the heavy rain. Marcus wheeled himself up and into the vehicle, where Devin secured his chair with practiced efficiency.
"Where to today, Mr. Thorne?"
Devin asked as he took his place in the driver's seat.
"Professional Shop Center on 34th Street."
Marcus answered, his voice betraying none of the anxiety coiling in his stomach.
"Got it. Should be about twenty minutes in this weather."
As the van pulled away from the curb, Marcus watched his apartment building recede through the rain-streaked window. For the first time in weeks, he was leaving his sanctuary—his prison. The city sprawled around them, a maze of grey buildings and colorful advertisements, many promoting the latest skill crystals or Transcendent services.
One billboard depicted a woman in tactical gear, her hands emanating flames as she apprehended a monstrous shadow.
"METRO SECURITY FORCE—PROTECTING HUMANITY WITH TRANSCENDENT POWER" blazed across the top in bold letters.
Another showed a smiling businessman, a swirl of golden light circling his temples.
"SUCCEED WITH CLARITY—MENTAL ENHANCEMENT CRYSTALS NOW 20% OFF AT CRYSTAL CONSORTIUM."
The Awakening had transformed society in ways few could have predicted. What began as isolated incidents with people suddenly developing strange abilities after traumatic experiences had evolved into a structured system of power, privilege, and commerce. The initial chaos had given way to regulation; the fear had morphed into opportunity.
For those with natural abilities, registration and ranking with the Transcendent Authority were mandatory. For those without, skill crystals offered a path to power, albeit at significant cost. Basic crystals provided simple abilities. —Elemental manipulation at its most rudimentary, physical enhancements that barely exceeded normal human capacity. Advanced crystals could transform a person into something beyond human, granting powers that would have seemed godlike just decades ago.
And then there were the otherworldly beings that had followed The Awakening like shadows following light. Most people never saw the terrifying ones. They existed just beyond perception, glimpsed only by those with specific abilities or those who had, like Marcus, brushed against death and survived.
The transport van navigated through increasingly crowded streets as they approached the commercial district. Traffic was congested around them, vehicles moving at a crawl through the rain. Their speed was even slower than a snail's pace.
"Sorry about the delay."
Devin said apologetically, glancing in the rearview mirror.
"Always bad around here when it rains."
Marcus merely nodded, his thoughts elsewhere. He was mentally rehearsing what would happen at the Professional Shop Center. Would they question why someone in his condition wanted a skill crystal? Would they try to upsell him to something more expensive? Would they even take him seriously?