School was the same. Or at least it tried to be.
Teachers droned. Pens scratched. A ceiling fan clacked like it might shake loose any second. Kids whispered about games, about parties, about nothing that mattered.
Kieran sat in the back, hood up, staring out the window. The sky was too still. Too heavy. Like the whole world was holding its breath.
It wasn't normal anymore. Not after last night. Not after what he'd seen.
Every flicker of light, every stretched shadow across the street outside made his chest tighten. He wasn't imagining it. He knew better now. The world wasn't waiting—it was already changing.
His pen hovered useless above the page.
The first siren barely registered. But the second one blared, sharp enough to rattle the windows.
The teacher froze mid-word.
A third siren wailed. Louder. Longer. The kind of sound that cuts straight into your spine and tells you to move.
At first, students laughed nervously. "Tornado drill?" someone muttered. But the sound didn't stop. It climbed, relentless, until the glass hummed in its frame.
Kieran's gut twisted. That wasn't a drill.
The intercom crackled. The principal's voice cut through, too tight, too fast:
"All students—school is dismissed. Go home immediately. Parents will be contacted. Do not linger. Go straight home."
Chairs scraped back. Bags zipped. The room exploded into noise, half panic, half confusion.
Kieran didn't move. His eyes stayed on the window.
Across the skyline, black smoke boiled upward like a storm had punctured the earth. It wasn't far—too close.
A kid in front of him pulled out his phone, live-streaming before the teacher could stop him. The reflection in the glass showed grainy footage of overturned cars, streets torn apart, people screaming as something huge moved through the haze. Not human.
Kieran's breath caught. Monsters.
The boy whispered, "They said it's across the river. Whole blocks gone already." His voice cracked. "They're saying… it's not just people awakening anymore."
Another kid asked, "Then what is it?"
Kieran didn't need the answer. This was the other side of awakening. Not everyone was going to be a hero. Not everything born from this change was going to stay human.
The bell shrieked. The hallways filled with pounding footsteps. Teachers tried to herd students out, but fear moved faster than orders.
Kieran shoved through the crowd, jaw tight, chest burning.
Across the city, something roared. The sound carried even here, over the sirens, over the shouts.
The golden dome from last night flashed in his mind. Protection. Containment. But it wasn't above the city now. Not this time.
This time, the monsters had gotten through.
———
Phones lit the hallway as students streamed out, screens flashing like fireflies in the chaos. Kieran's eyes caught on one. He froze.
A shaky livestream showed the city across the river. A skyscraper leaned at an impossible angle before folding in on itself, glass and steel collapsing like paper. Dust clouds rolled through the streets as people ran, their screams rising above the static.
Something huge moved between the towers. Its skin was ridged and black, its body hunched forward, its arms too long, dragging gouges in the pavement. It turned, and the camera caught its face—too many eyes, all burning the same molten red.
The feed shook as the thing lifted a bus in one hand and hurled it. The sound cut out, but the image was enough. Metal crumpled. Bodies scattered.
Kieran's chest lurched. He staggered sideways, slamming his shoulder against a locker. His stomach heaved, bile burning his throat.
Another phone shoved into his vision. Different angle. The ground itself cracked open, asphalt curling as clawed hands tore free. One. Then another. Then a dozen. More monsters clawed up from the dark, their roars rattling the speakers before the feed went dead.
Kieran pressed his fist to his mouth, shaking. His vision blurred.
This wasn't awakening. This wasn't evolution.
This was slaughter.
And it was happening just across the river.
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, legs trembling beneath him. The truth pressed down, heavier than the smoke rising into the sky.
In a week, it wouldn't just be the monsters.
It would be him.
And he wasn't sure what terrified him more—that the world was falling apart… or that, when his time came, it would demand he stand in the middle of it.