The night hung heavy in Aetherin, a city of shimmering lights and deep shadows, where the neon glow flickered against the darkness. The streets bustled with life, filled with the sounds of laughter, distant music, and the occasional screech of tires. Yet, amid this vibrant backdrop, an unsettling stillness crept into the air, like a warning sign before a storm.
In a modest apartment overlooking the heart of the city, Zephyr Bishop sat quietly in his room, bathed in the soft blue light of his holo-screen. The familiar hum of machines surrounded him, a comforting rhythm in an ever-chaotic world. As he scrolled through endless streams of news, his mind wandered to his parents, who had left for an important meeting hours ago. They were always busy, their lives consumed by work, but they had promised to be back soon. He believed them. They always came back.
At least, they always had—until tonight.
With a sigh, Zephyr glanced at the clock on the wall. "10:45 PM." They were late. A knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach, tightening with every passing minute. He forced himself to focus on the news anchor's voice in the background, but the words blurred together. He could barely concentrate, his thoughts drifting back to the last time he had seen his parents. They had smiled at him, ruffled his hair, and told him to be good. A warmth filled him at the memory, but it was quickly overshadowed by worry.
Suddenly, his personal comm-link buzzed, jolting him from his thoughts.
"Unknown Sender"
"Get out. Now."
His heart raced, a wave of adrenaline flooding his system. What did that mean? Before he could process the warning, the sound of shattering glass shattered the stillness in his room. Zephyr spun around, eyes wide as the window imploded inward, shards raining to the floor. A dark figure dropped silently into the room, clad in a sleek black suit, its visor glowing a menacing red.
Panic surged through him, and he stumbled back, instinctively wanting to flee, but his feet felt glued to the spot. The intruder's visor swept the room, locking onto him with cold precision. Just as the figure lunged forward, impossibly fast, the door to his room burst open.
"Run, Zephyr!" his uncle, Jonah, shouted, bursting into the doorway with a strange, glowing sword that hummed with energy.
Without thinking, Zephyr bolted toward the door, narrowly dodging the assassin's grasp. Behind him, he could hear Jonah engaging in a fierce battle with the intruder, the electric hum of the sword filling the air with tension.
As Zephyr raced down the hallway, the reality of the situation crashed over him. His parents were in danger. A deep fear twisted in his gut as he sprinted through the familiar corridors of their home, now feeling like a terrifying maze.
The front door loomed ahead, and he threw himself against it, bursting into the cold night air. What greeted him left him breathless—a blazing inferno consumed the meeting hall where his parents had been. The structure was now nothing more than a pile of burning rubble. His legs gave way beneath him as the horror unfolded before his eyes.
"Mom! Dad!" he cried out, his voice cracking with desperation. The flames crackled in response, but he heard nothing from them—only silence.
A chilling breeze rustled through the trees, and in that moment, a cold realization settled deep in his chest. He wasn't just in danger—his entire life had been shattered.
Behind him, a dull thud echoed as Jonah collapsed to the ground, the black-clad assassin looming over him. The figure turned its gaze back to Zephyr, advancing slowly and deliberately.
Zephyr clenched his fists, feeling utterly helpless—no weapon, no way to defend himself. He stepped back, but then something sharp pricked the back of his neck. His body tensed, his vision blurred, and darkness began to envelop him. He collapsed to the ground, swallowed by the void.
When Zephyr came to, he found himself no longer outside the chaos . Blinking awake, he adjusted to the dim light of a strange room. The air was thick with an earthy scent, tinged with incense. He wasn't in his home anymore; he laid on a simple futon in a small, candle-lit space.
Zephyr slowly sat up, disoriented. His heart raced as fragments of the previous night flooded back—his parents, the intruder, the flames. Panic coursed through him, but he forced himself to breathe. He had to figure out where he was and what had happened.