Several years had passed since the Liberty Street incident. Thomas was now a final year student in high school, and the world around him had learned to keep its distance. Students whispered when he passed, but never too close. Teachers nodded politely, careful not to draw his attention, though their eyes always lingered just a little longer than normal.
Thomas walked through the hallways as he always did—head down, hoodie pulled over his hair, hands tucked into his pockets. He moved quietly, observant of every movement, every glance. Nobody dared to speak to him, and he liked it that way. No one could hurt him if they stayed away.
A few days ago, Milo had tried to approach him again. The same chubby, awkward boy who had once been his only friend. He had shuffled nervously toward Thomas in the cafeteria, stammering over words he had rehearsed a hundred times in his head. Thomas had looked at him with cool indifference. He said nothing, just shrugged and returned to his food. Milo had left quietly, defeated—but Thomas hadn't cared. He had learned long ago that getting involved with people only brought trouble.
And lately, trouble seemed to find him anyway. Strange things had started happening. He could hear noises that no one else could. Shadows seemed to move just a little differently when he walked past. Objects in his room shifted ever so slightly when he wasn't looking. Sometimes, when his anger flared, small things broke around him—doors, glasses, even a window once—but no one could ever prove it was him.
Thomas had long since stopped questioning it. He didn't try to explain, didn't try to control it. He just accepted it as part of who he was now. Something different. Something dangerous.
He passed by the lockers, keeping his gaze low. A group of students nearby tensed as he walked by. One of them whispered something, just loud enough for Thomas to hear. "Careful. Don't make him mad."
Thomas didn't flinch. He didn't acknowledge them. That was the only way he could survive.
Yet even as he walked alone, as he kept the world at arm's length, a part of him wondered—sometimes silently, sometimes in a whisper he would never voice—that maybe he wasn't meant to live like this forever. Something was coming, he could feel it, though he didn't yet know what. And it would change everything.
For now, though, he kept walking. Head down. Eyes sharp. Hands in his pockets. Alone, as always.
The air in the woods was thick and heavy that afternoon. Thomas had felt it building all day—the familiar pressure in his chest, the heat behind his eyes. Something inside him was wrong, restless, and urgent. He knew what was coming, and he couldn't control it.
Without thinking, he ran. The forest loomed just a short distance from the school, and he didn't stop until he had left the asphalt and noise behind. The smell of damp earth and pine filled his lungs, but he barely noticed.
His fists clenched, his teeth ground together, and a low growl escaped his throat before he realized it. The energy inside him erupted violently. Small blasts shot from his hands, knocking over saplings and scattering undergrowth. Trees cracked and fell. Rocks and debris jumped from the ground, thrown by the force radiating from him. Birds screamed and flew from the trees, fleeing the chaos.
Thomas's breaths came fast. He couldn't stop it. He had tried, countless times, but the power was part of him now, part of his anger, part of his fear. And in moments like this, it didn't care who or what was around.
Then he froze.
At the edge of a cliff, just beyond the forest clearing, he saw someone. A young man, standing perfectly still, staring at him. His hair was gold, catching the sunlight even through the leaves. His eyes were pale ice blue, cold and unflinching. His face betrayed nothing—no fear, no surprise, no judgment. Just stillness, like a statue carved from stone.
Thomas stopped mid-breath, his heart racing for a different reason now. He didn't know who this person was, or how long he had been standing there, but something about him made the power inside Thomas falter for just a moment.
The young man's gaze didn't waver. It held Thomas, and for the first time in a long while, he felt… watched.
And then, the woods fell silent, save for the crackling of broken trees and the low hum of energy lingering around Thomas.
His chest heaved, and a low, furious growl escaped his throat. He didn't know how to stop it, and he didn't care.
At the edge of the cliff, the young man still stood perfectly still. Eyes as pale as ice, staring down at him. Thomas didn't see curiosity or fear in that gaze—only calm, precision, and control. But before he could think further, a chunk of rock beneath the cliff loosened, shattered by the blast of Thomas's power, and tumbled toward the figure.
The young man's eyes narrowed. A subtle shift in his stance, and Thomas realized immediately that he had been interpreted as an attacker. He barely had time to react before a surge of force slammed toward him.
Instinct took over. Thomas dodged, leapt back, and raised his arms defensively. The man moved with deadly precision, striking, countering, and predicting his movements as if he could read them. Thomas's blows crashed harmlessly against air and trees, while the man's attacks pushed him backward, forcing him to retreat. Each strike made the ground tremble, each clash sent leaves and dust swirling.
The fight was chaotic. Thomas's energy bursts splintered trees, threw boulders, and cracked the earth beneath him. The man's attacks were sharper, controlled, like a storm he could command. Every time Thomas lunged, the man deflected him with ease, his movements flowing, almost effortless.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the forest and the sound of clashing power filled the air. Thomas's muscles burned from the effort of defending himself, yet he refused to yield. He had to survive.
And then, without warning, he slipped. His foot caught on the fractured edge of the cliff, and he tumbled toward the void. Heart in his throat, wind roaring past his ears, Thomas's hands flailed, grasping at nothing.
At first, the figure on the cliff did nothing. His eyes were fixed, unshaken, assessing. But something flickered—a sudden, instinctive decision that made him move faster than Thomas could follow. In a blink, he was there, one hand shooting out to catch Thomas's wrist.
Time slowed. Thomas's eyes met the man's icy blue gaze, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The forest, the shattered trees, the falling rocks—it all faded away.
With a single, effortless motion, the man pulled Thomas up, landing him safely back on the cliff. Thomas stumbled slightly, chest heaving, staring at the figure in disbelief. The sheer presence of someone who could command power like his own left him speechless.
Before Thomas could say anything, the man turned, leapt over the cliff edge, and vanished into the trees.
Thomas sank to the ground, trembling, his mind racing. He had just fought—and survived—against someone like him. Someone powerful. Someone… not human, or at least not like the others.
And then,Thomas felt a flicker of something unfamiliar: curiosity...