The world outside Alaric's window felt heavier than it used to.
Maybe it was the air, thick and gray from the city's constant breathing.
Or maybe it was him — the way every light seemed a little too bright, every hum too sharp, every silence too loud.
It had been three days since his suspension.
Three days of the same routine — wake up late, avoid his mother's eyes, stare at the ceiling until the shadows shifted and the day was gone.
The world kept turning without him, and for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure if he wanted to catch up.
The faint sound of a fan filled the small apartment.
His room was half-dark — curtains drawn, light seeping through in fractured stripes that cut across the wall. His textbooks lay open but untouched, the ink of his pen dried where he had stopped mid-sentence two days ago.
He stared at it now — the words "Electromagnetic Induction" underlined twice, ironic enough to make him laugh. He closed the book instead.
His arm tingled again.
The same faint vibration beneath his skin that had never left since the experiment.
It wasn't painful — just… alive. Like something inside him refused to stay still.
He clenched his fist, watching faint sparks ripple under his wrist, then fade.
No matter how much he told himself to ignore it, the feeling lingered — a heartbeat that wasn't his.
From the kitchen, his mother's voice broke through.
"Alaric! You're not going to stay locked in there all day again!"
He sighed.
"Just five more minutes!"
"That's what you said two hours ago," she shot back.
Her voice had warmth and exhaustion in equal parts — the kind that came from worry, not anger. She'd been trying to act normal, pretending everything was fine, as if her son hadn't disappeared for days and come back half-broken.
He pushed himself up, rubbing his face. "Alright, alright. I'm coming."
---
The apartment was small — three rooms and a narrow balcony that looked over the lower blocks of New Albion's South Sector.
From here, you could see everything and nothing — neon lights bleeding through fog, trains crawling on suspended rails, the distant hum of a city that never knew rest.
His mother stood by the counter, sorting vegetables into a basket. She glanced at him over her shoulder, her brow tightening.
"You look like you haven't slept."
"I did," Alaric lied, grabbing a glass of water.
"You sure? Because your eyes—"
"I'm fine, Mom." He said it a little too sharply, and she fell quiet for a moment.
"Alright," she murmured. "If you're fine, go get some air. The market's open — buy some things for dinner."
He frowned. "You could just order it."
"Not everything comes in a box, Alaric."
He stared at her for a moment before sighing and nodding. "Fine. What do you need?"
She handed him a short list — potatoes, tomatoes, milk — the normal, mundane things that belonged to a normal, mundane life.
Things that almost made him feel human again.
---
Outside, the evening air carried the familiar mix of warmth and dust.
Streetlights flickered as he walked past, one after another — a small ripple of energy that seemed to follow him. He kept his hands in his pockets, pretending not to notice.
People filled the sidewalks — vendors shouting over one another, hovercars buzzing past, children weaving through crowds. It all looked ordinary, but Alaric couldn't unsee the patterns.
Every vibration, every flicker, every distant hum — he felt them before he heard them.
The city pulsed like a living thing, and somehow, he was tuned to its rhythm.
As he crossed the intersection, a large holo-screen flashed above the square.
"Aurion Industries releases official statement following previous containment breach—"
He froze.
The words Aurion Industries still sent a shiver through him.
He forced himself to look away, but fragments of the broadcast bled into his mind.
Something about restructuring, ethical oversight, new research branches forming.
And then — a familiar name, whispered under the noise.
"Project Lyra to begin under the supervision of Dr. Havel and Dr. Myles—expected to focus on biological energy symbiosis."
Biological energy.
The phrase itched at the back of his skull.
He didn't even notice the light flicker above him again.
---
The market was crowded but alive.
Rows of metal stalls lined the street, steam rising from food carts, the air filled with the smell of spices and rain. Vendors called out prices while neon signs buzzed faintly overhead.
Alaric moved quietly between the stalls, picking what he needed.
His reflection followed him in glass surfaces — tired eyes, faint shadows under them, a stranger wearing his own face.
When he reached for a bag of tomatoes, a static snap jumped from his fingertips. The vendor yelped.
"Oi! Careful, kid! You got a shocker on you?"
"Sorry—static," Alaric muttered, quickly handing him credits. He turned away before the man could say more.
But it wasn't static. It was him.
He felt the pulse travel through his hand, faint but undeniable. The hum beneath his skin had grown louder over the past few days. And when he got angry — when he lost control, like during the fight — it lashed out.
He could almost hear Shepherd's voice again.
"You're not dying. You're changing."
He clenched his fists until the buzzing faded.
---
A voice broke his thoughts.
"Alaric?"
He turned — and froze.
It was Evans, standing a few steps away, holding a small bag of groceries.
His expression was caught somewhere between relief and fear.
"Holy hell, man. I thought you moved or something," Evans said, stepping closer. "You've been off the grid since the… suspension thing."
"Yeah," Alaric muttered. "Just needed a break."
Evans frowned. "Everyone at school's talking, you know. They said you—"
"Let them talk."
The words came out colder than he meant. Evans hesitated.
"Look, I didn't mean— I just wanted to check in. You don't look so great."
Alaric sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well. A lot's been happening."
Evans nodded awkwardly. "You hear about the Aurion thing? They're saying it wasn't an accident. Some people online think they were doing experiments or something."
Alaric's heart skipped a beat.
He forced a chuckle. "Internet loves a good conspiracy."
"Yeah…" Evans said, squinting at him. "Still. Weird, though. You vanish for a week and then—"
Alaric's glare cut him off.
"Drop it, Evans."
Silence stretched for a moment before Evans sighed. "Fine. Just… take care, okay?"
He walked off, leaving Alaric standing in the fading light.
The moment he disappeared into the crowd, Alaric's jaw unclenched. His pulse was racing again, electricity coiling inside him like a storm waiting to break.
---
By the time he got home, night had fallen.
The apartment lights were warm and steady — a rare comfort. His mother was setting the table when he entered. She looked up, eyes scanning his face for signs of… something.
"You were gone long enough," she said softly.
"Ran into Evans," he replied, dropping the bag on the counter.
Her smile faltered. "Evans. The one from school?"
"Yeah."
"He's a good boy," she murmured, though her tone carried something else — worry, maybe guilt. She didn't say it out loud, but Alaric could feel it. Every glance she gave him was heavy with unspoken questions.
Dinner passed in silence.
She tried to talk about normal things — the price of vegetables, Mrs. Heller's broken elevator — but Alaric barely heard her.
His mind was back in that room — the glass chamber, the hum, Shepherd's calm voice.
Halfway through the meal, his mother finally spoke.
"You've been… different lately."
He froze. "Different how?"
"I don't know," she said carefully. "You stare at nothing for hours. You barely talk. You flinch when the lights flicker. I just—" she hesitated. "I just want to know you're okay."
"I'm fine," he said again, but this time it cracked around the edges.
She put her fork down. "Alaric. Talk to me. You disappeared for days. I was going insane. I filed reports, called everyone, and—" her voice wavered— "no one listened. Not the police, not Aurion, not anyone. Then you just show up, covered in ash, saying nothing. What am I supposed to think?"
He swallowed hard.
"I don't know what happened," he said quietly. "I really don't."
"That's not good enough!" she snapped suddenly, standing up. "You think you can just shut down and pretend it's fine?"
His eyes flashed — literally. For half a second, the faintest spark flickered behind his pupils. The lamp above them dimmed.
His mother stepped back, startled.
Alaric blinked, and the light returned to normal.
He realized his hands were trembling.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean—"
She exhaled slowly, her anger fading into worry again. "Alaric… I just want my son back."
He turned away, his voice barely a whisper. "So do I."
---
That night, sleep didn't come.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring out the window at the glowing skyline.
The city was alive — wires humming, billboards flickering, trains gliding above.
And somewhere beneath it all, Aurion was rebuilding.
He remembered the newscast. Project Lyra.
He didn't know what it meant, but the name carried the same taste — cold, sterile, dangerous.
He flexed his fingers. Tiny arcs of electricity danced between them, faint but real.
He could feel energy in the air, like static whispering in a language he almost understood.
He whispered into the silence.
"Shepherd… if you're still alive… what did you turn me into?"
Outside, thunder rumbled softly — distant, uncertain.
And for the first time, Alaric didn't know if it came from the sky or from within him.