Four men stood outside the truck, their outlines caught in the narrow beam of light that sliced through the cliffs.
For a long moment, no one spoke. They could only hear each other breathe.
It was risk—and opportunity—woven together.
How to choose?
None of this reached Damian.
He stayed inside the cab with Adrian, unaware of the looks exchanged outside.
Beside him, the youth was trembling, pale as chalk, biting down hard to keep from making a sound.
Every muscle in his jaw locked tight.
The air around him pulsed with faint, invisible heat—like a cocoon beginning to crack.
Damian's chest tightened. The sight tore open a memory he thought he'd buried.
He could still see the street at dusk:
a fragile, beautiful boy crouched by the curb, skin white as paper.
His eyes were glassy with exhaustion, his lips bloodless.
When Damian had bent to ask if he was all right, the boy had grabbed his wrist with cold fingers.
Later, he learned that was Elian Frost's first awakening—the birth of a Psionic gift so strong it burned through his body.
Elian hadn't eaten in days.
Damian had acted on instinct.
He'd opened his coat, pressed the rest of his cores into those shaking hands, then pulled the boy close until the tremors eased.
And then, their story had begun.
Now, years later, a future overlord lay before him—pale and fragile.The same scene, a different man.
He reached into his coat and drew out a handful of mid-grade crystal cores, their faint glow spilling between his fingers. Gently, he placed them in Adrian's trembling hands.
So what did he do next?Just one thing—a single, simple gesture.
With a small, comforting smile, Damian opened his arms and drew Adrian into his embrace.
"Easy," he whispered, just as he had long ago. "It's all right. I've got you."
The faint hum in the valley deepened—a frequency only Noah could perceiveEnergy threading through the air, rising in pitch until the dust itself began to tremble.
Outside, Marcus turned toward the cliffs.
A low vibration crawled up from the ground—steady, rhythmic, like something massive stirring beneath the rock.
One of the headlights flickered, then went out.
"Did you feel that?" someone asked.
No one had time to answer.
Inside the truck, Damian held on, steady and unafraid.
He had no idea what was being born in his arms—only that he refused to let it break alone.
And miles away, in the heart of the city, Elian Frost froze.
For no reason he could name, his chest hollowed—as if something that had once belonged to him had just been taken away forever.
He stood at the end of a narrow street, a worn backpack hanging from his hand—the same one Damian had given him years ago.
Cheap canvas, dated style, nothing like what he used now.
But it was still the best thing he owned.
Inside were a few folded clothes and the small gifts Damian had given him over the years—trinkets, odds and ends, each one quietly expensive in its own way.
They were all he had left of that part of his life.He tightened his grip on the strap, standing in the fading light, not sure where to go next.