Kael woke to shouting.
Not the distant kind that carried through thin metal walls or echoed across the settlement like background noise. This was sharp, close, and threaded with fear. Boots scraped across the ground outside the shelter, followed by the unmistakable snap of a power baton discharging.
He sat up instantly.
The weight was there—always—but muted, like a pressure waiting patiently rather than bearing down. His muscles felt… alert. Ready in a way they hadn't been before the collapse in the ruins.
Outside, someone screamed.
Kael pushed himself to his feet and pulled on his boots, hands moving without thought. The moment his palm touched the shelter door, it slid open.
Cold air rushed in.
The settlement was already awake, though dawn had barely touched the horizon. People clustered in uneven knots, voices overlapping, faces drawn tight. Armed sentries moved along the perimeter fence, weapons raised—not outward, but inward.
Toward the center.
Kael stepped out.
Mara stood near the old comm tower, her mechanical arm humming faintly. Her face was pale, jaw set hard, eyes scanning the crowd like she was expecting violence to erupt at any second.
She spotted him.
Their eyes locked.
For a fraction of a second, something unspoken passed between them—recognition, maybe, or shared guilt. Then her expression hardened.
"Stay back," she called sharply.
Too late.
The crowd parted as two men dragged a third toward the open space near the generator hub. The man between them was bleeding from the mouth, one eye swollen shut. His hands were bound behind his back with scrap wire.
Kael recognized him.
Joren.
A trader. Loud. Always smiling too wide.
"What's going on?" Kael asked, though the answer was already forming in his chest.
"Raiders," someone muttered nearby.
"No—worse," another replied.
"He sold us out."
Joren was thrown to his knees. He coughed, spitting blood onto the dust.
"I didn't mean—" he started.
A baton cracked across his ribs.
"You led them straight to the east sector," Mara said coldly. "You knew people would die."
Kael's stomach tightened.
"They would've found it anyway," Joren gasped. "I just—bought us time."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Fear twisted into anger.
"You bought yourself time," someone shouted.
Kael felt it then—a subtle shift, like gravity adjusting its grip. The world seemed to lean inward again, not crushing, but watching.
Joren lifted his head.
His gaze found Kael.
For a moment, something flickered behind his fear—calculation.
"You," Joren croaked. "You were there, weren't you? In the ruins."
Kael froze.
Mara's head snapped toward him. So did several others.
"What?" she said.
Joren laughed weakly. "He shouldn't be alive. None of us should. That collapse—"
"Enough," Mara barked.
But the damage was done.
Eyes turned toward Kael. Suspicion sharpened. Curiosity followed.
The weight pressed closer.
Kael stepped forward despite himself. "He didn't lead them," he said. "The collapse was an accident."
Joren stared at him, disbelief flashing across his face.
"You felt it," Joren whispered. "Didn't you?"
Kael didn't answer.
Mara's jaw tightened. "Take him to holding," she ordered. "We'll decide later."
The guards hauled Joren away.
The crowd slowly dispersed, but the tension lingered like smoke after a fire. Conversations resumed in hushed tones. Eyes followed Kael as he retreated toward the shelter row.
He felt exposed.
That night had changed something. Not just in him—but in how the world reacted to him.
Mara caught up to him near the water recycler.
"You shouldn't have said anything," she muttered.
"He was scared," Kael replied.
"So are they," she said, gesturing subtly toward the settlement. "Fear doesn't care about fairness."
Kael watched the horizon. The sun was rising now, its dull light stretching across the ruins. He felt warmer than usual beneath it. Not energized—aligned.
"Why are the sentries facing inward?" he asked.
Mara hesitated.
"Because the raiders didn't just probe the east sector," she said quietly. "They knew exactly where to look."
Kael turned to her. "How?"
"They were asking questions," she replied. "About a boy."
The weight shifted.
Kael's breath caught.
"They said he survived things no one should," Mara continued. "That he bends under gravity but doesn't break. That he came from nowhere."
Silence stretched between them.
"I didn't tell them anything," Kael said.
"I know," Mara replied. "Which means someone else did."
A low hum rolled through the settlement—deep, resonant, vibrating through metal and bone alike. The generator spiked, lights flickering.
Kael felt it immediately.
The pressure intensified—not inward, but outward. Like something calling.
He staggered slightly, hand bracing against the recycler unit. The metal beneath his palm warmed.
"Kael?" Mara said sharply.
Before he could answer, the hum cut out.
The generator stabilized.
Far above the planet's atmosphere, something adjusted its trajectory.
Kael didn't see it. But his body responded anyway.
His heart slowed.
His breathing steadied.
The weight eased again—then settled, heavier than before, as if the planet itself had acknowledged him.
That afternoon, the elders convened.
Kael wasn't invited.
He listened anyway, crouched beneath the shelter's broken floor grating, voices drifting through warped metal.
"…can't keep him here."
"…drawing attention."
"…raiders aren't the worst of it."
Mara's voice cut through the others. "He's a child."
"He's a liability," another snapped back. "Whatever he is."
Kael clenched his fists.
He didn't know what he was. But he knew what he wasn't.
He wasn't a weapon.
He wasn't a curse.
At least—he didn't think so.
That night, Joren escaped.
Or rather—someone let him go.
The alarms didn't sound until it was too late. By the time the sentries responded, Joren was already beyond the perimeter fence, sprinting into the ruins.
Kael felt it instantly.
The weight surged violently, like a warning scream.
He didn't think.
He ran.
His feet struck the ground harder than intended, kicking up dust as he vaulted the fence in a single motion. He landed awkwardly, momentum carrying him forward—but his body corrected, muscles tightening, balance snapping into place.
He was faster.
Not impossibly so—but undeniably different.
Joren stumbled ahead, panic driving him forward. He glanced back once, eyes wide as he saw Kael closing the distance.
"Stay away!" Joren shouted.
Kael didn't slow.
The ruins swallowed them, shadows deepening as structures rose around them. Kael felt every uneven stone, every shift in gravity. His awareness sharpened again—fracture lines appearing in his vision, paths unfolding instinctively.
Joren tripped.
Kael reached him before he hit the ground.
"Why?" Kael demanded, gripping Joren's collar.
Joren laughed hysterically. "You don't get it. They're coming whether I talk or not."
"Who?" Kael pressed.
Joren's smile faltered.
"Not raiders," he whispered. "Not traders. Not even empires."
A distant tremor rolled through the ruins.
Kael felt it—not as sound, but as alignment. Something vast had shifted course.
"They felt you," Joren said softly. "Whatever you are… they felt you wake up."
A flash of light tore across the sky.
Not a meteor.
Controlled. Precise.
Kael released Joren slowly, eyes lifting toward the heavens as the pressure deepened—no longer testing, but acknowledging.
Far above, a signal locked.
Solaryth confirmation achieved.
The hunt had begun.