The rooftop was quiet.
Not the peaceful kind. Not the kind you'd sit and daydream under. This was the silence of forgotten places—the stillness of spaces no one looked up at anymore.
Raj had found it two blocks from his apartment, at the top of an abandoned office building with a rusted fire escape and a half-ripped "Condemned" sign still taped to the stairwell door.
He'd come here once before, just to think.
Today, he came to learn.
The sun had risen fully now, washing the sky in soft gold and pressing against the city with steady warmth. Raj stepped out into it slowly, hoodie tied around his waist, a plain white shirt stretched across his chest, clinging slightly from the heat radiating off him.
The wind rustled his hair.
The sunlight kissed his skin.
And something inside him stirred.
He stood still for a long moment, arms at his sides, breathing deeply. Letting it in.
The warmth didn't stop at his skin. It never did. It soaked through his muscles, into his bones, like it belonged there. Like it had always been part of him, just waiting for permission.
He clenched his fists.
No glow yet.
But his veins itched faintly. Like light was curling through them, coiling in place.
He had to know how far it went.
First, he tried the simplest thing: a jump.
He walked to the edge of the rooftop, crouched slightly, and pushed off with all the strength he thought was "normal."
He went six feet up.
Landed clean.
Didn't stumble. Didn't even feel the shock in his knees.
Just… floated down.
He frowned.
That had felt easy. Too easy.
He tried again—this time harder.
He leapt straight up and cleared nearly twelve feet, catching the top of a rusted antenna before landing softly on the balls of his feet.
Still no strain.
His breathing didn't change.
"Okay," he muttered, voice low.
He scanned the rooftop for something heavier. Found an old HVAC unit half-tipped over near the edge. It had to weigh at least a hundred kilos. Maybe more.
He crouched next to it. Placed his hands beneath the edge.
Lifted.
The metal groaned—but not because it resisted him. It groaned because the screws anchoring it to the concrete gave out under the force.
He lifted the entire unit off the ground like it was a duffel bag.
Held it at shoulder height.
Then gently set it back down.
His arms didn't tremble. His muscles didn't twitch.
It felt natural.
Too natural.
Next, the wall test.
He walked to the rear edge of the rooftop, where the building's stairwell rose a few feet higher than the main surface. The wall was solid—aged brick, stained by years of rain and wind.
He placed his fist against it. Took a breath.
Then punched.
He didn't go all out. Just enough to feel it.
The wall cracked.
A clean, spider-web fracture burst out from the point of impact, and dust drifted into the morning light like ash.
Raj stepped back, flexing his hand.
No pain.
Not even a scratch.
He looked down at his fingers, then back at the wall.
That shouldn't have happened.
Not at that strength. Not from someone who wasn't wearing armor.
He blew out a breath, long and slow.
Then came the glow.
It started in his chest—just beneath the collarbone. A soft warmth. Like a sunbeam focused in a single spot.
It spread slowly, curling through his shoulders and into his arms. He didn't mean for it to happen. He wasn't even straining.
But the sunlight had been on him too long.
He held up his hand.
Veins began to shine. Faint golden trails, pulsing lightly beneath the skin. Not blinding. Not dramatic. But impossible to miss.
Even his fingernails looked like they were catching light from the inside.
Raj stepped back into the shadow of the stairwell.
The glow dimmed almost instantly.
He stepped back into the sun.
It returned.
His skin wasn't just reacting to light.
It was storing it.
Using it.
Becoming something else.
He pressed his back to the wall and closed his eyes.
Control it.
He focused on his breath. Slow. Measured.
One in. Two out.
He imagined the heat sinking inward, not burning outward. He imagined a lid on it. A glass jar. Something tight and quiet and sealed.
His heartbeat slowed.
His fingertips cooled.
The veins dimmed. The glow faded.
Gone.
He opened his eyes.
His hands looked normal again.
Human.
Raj let out a slow breath. A real one.
It was working.
He could dim it.
Not stop the sun. But choose how it moved through him.
"I don't have to shine. Not unless I choose to."
The rooftop stayed quiet.
Only the wind moved now.
Raj stood in the center again, arms open, soaking in the sunlight. Letting the power fill him—but not overflow.
It felt like balancing on a wire.
But he could do it.
He had to.
As he left the rooftop, hoodie pulled over his head, he glanced back once at the cracked brick wall and the HVAC unit resting crookedly in the sun.
He touched his chest lightly.
Still warm.
Still calm.
Still his.