The silence did not last.
A sharp ringing filled Shango's ears as he lay on the floor, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Dust hung in the air, thick and choking, catching what little light remained from the broken window.
For a moment, he could not move.
Could not think.
All he could feel was the faint, lingering sensation beneath his skin.
Like something had been there…
And was now gone.
He forced himself to breathe.
In.
Out.
Slow.
Controlled.
But his body did not feel like his anymore.
A faint crackling sound echoed in the room.
Shango froze.
His eyes shifted to his hand.
For the briefest second,
A thin line of blue light flickered across his fingers.
Then it disappeared.
"No…"
His voice came out hoarse.
Barely a whisper.
Footsteps rushed from outside.
Fast. Panicked.
The door burst open.
"Shango?!"
His mother rushed in first, her eyes scanning the room before locking onto him. Her face lost all color instantly.
His father followed behind her, stopping at the doorway as he took in the damage.
The cracked floor.
The shattered windows.
The dead lights.
"What happened here?" his father muttered.
His mother was already at Shango's side.
"Are you hurt?" she asked quickly, checking his arms, his shoulders, his face.
"I… I don't know," Shango said.
And that part was true.
His father stepped further into the room, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"This does not make sense," he said quietly. "No storm. No thunder. No Cultivators around either. Nothing that should cause this."
His gaze shifted to Shango.
Just for a moment.
But it lingered.
Shango felt it.
That look.
Not quite suspicion.
But close enough.
"I heard something," his mother said softly. "Like an explosion…"
Shango swallowed.
"So did I."
A lie this time.
Silence settled between them.
Outside, distant voices rose.
Confusion. Fear. Questions shouted across the street.
His father walked to the broken window and looked out.
People were gathering.
Pointing at the sky.
Talking over each other.
Phones raised.
Recording.
"What's going on out there?" his mother asked.
His father did not answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was quieter.
Tighter.
"The sky…"
Shango's chest tightened.
"They're saying it broke," his father continued. "Like something tore it open."
Shango looked down at his hands.
They were steady now.
Normal.
Too normal.
Not yet.
His breath hitched.
That voice again.
Faint.
Distant.
Still there.
"Did you hear that?" he asked suddenly.
Both of his parents turned to him.
"Hear what?" his mother asked.
Shango hesitated.
Then shook his head.
"…Nothing."
A siren wailed in the distance.
Then another.
His father stepped away from the window.
"We need to get this place checked," he said. "Something's not right."
Shango almost laughed.
Not right.
That was an understatement.
His gaze drifted to the shattered glass scattered across the floor.
For a moment,
He thought he saw something in the reflection.
A flicker of blue.
Watching him.
He blinked.
It was gone.
Far above,
Beyond the sealed sky,
Something stirred.
"He awakened."
The voice carried weight.
Not loud.
But absolute.
Another answered, colder.
"Only partially."
A pause.
"That is enough."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
"Send word," the first voice said. "We cannot allow him to grow."
"And if he resists?"
A brief stillness.
"He will not."
Far below, in a broken room filled with dust and silence,
Shango sat surrounded by the aftermath of something he did not understand.
But deep within him,
Something had already begun.
And this time,
It would not stay buried.