The violet glow dimmed in Rudran's eyes, and the bone-like shadow gauntlet crumbled into smoke, drifting away from his arm like ash.
He forced a cough—something ordinary. Something human.
Zayn stepped closer, squinting. "What the hell just happened to you?" he asked.
Rudran waved a shaky hand. "Low blood sugar," he said. "I haven't eaten since morning."
Arin raised an eyebrow. "Low blood sugar makes your eyes glow now?"
Rudran gave a weak laugh. "Probably just the sun," he replied. "Reflection or something. I'm fine."
Hiro, quiet as ever, didn't look convinced—but stayed silent. His eyes lingered a beat too long on Rudran's shadow—like he'd seen something he wasn't ready to say.
A tense pause settled between them. Rudran remained still, making sure his shadow stayed close and calm. It obeyed—for now.
Zayn exhaled. "Anyway... the world's ending," he muttered. "Let's not start turning on each other."
"Yeah," Arin said with a nod. "I need to get home. My sister's freaking out. She thinks the cracks are divine punishment or something."
"Same here," Zayn added. "My uncle's in the military—he says they're mobilizing tanks. Tanks, bro. This is serious."
One by one, they drifted off with rushed goodbyes, shoulder slaps, and promises to check in—if the networks held. Only Hiro lingered a moment longer, his gaze narrowing ever so slightly at Rudran's shadow, before he turned and headed down the stairs.
And Rudran was alone.
He stared at his hands.
They trembled—not with fear, but with weight.
His power wasn't just real—it had rooted itself inside him. It hadn't just called him. It had nested inside him—breathing, waiting.
> "Take it... or be consumed."
He didn't know what it meant.
He didn't want to find out.
---
Later That Evening — Rudran's Home
The apartment was small, quiet, and warm.
In the kitchen, his mother stirred a pot of dal. She looked exhausted—her eyes shadowed with a soft, familiar fatigue. Her clothes still carried the scent of sanitizer and the hospital she cleaned. But when she turned and saw him, her face lit up.
"Rudran, you're home. Did you eat anything today?" she asked.
He nodded. Lied. "Yeah, I grabbed something."
She gave him a longer look, brushing his hair aside. "You look pale, beta. Are you sure you're alright?"
"Just tired," he said. "It's been a long day. Everyone's talking about those cracks."
Her smile faded. "I know," she said softly. "The city's on alert. Your brother's been calling nonstop."
Right on cue, Ishan stormed in from his room, phone in hand. He was six years older, heavier-built, and always intense—like a pot perpetually on the edge of boiling over.
"Bro, you saw the videos, right?" Ishan asked, his voice quick. "It's real. Monsters. And people—some of them are changing. They've got powers now."
Rudran tensed. He didn't answer.
"If anything happens," Ishan continued, lowering his voice, "we leave the city. Got it? Don't trust the news. Don't trust the government."
Their mother stepped in, her voice firm but gentle. "We'll stay calm. Together. Always."
They sat down to eat—dal, rice, and vegetables. Familiar, grounding. A normal dinner in an unraveling world.
Rudran glanced down at the floor beneath the table.
His shadow twitched.
Alive. Watching.
Waiting.
> Tomorrow, he would have to face it.
But tonight—he just wanted to be a son.
A brother.
Not a weapon.
Not a cursed chosen.
Not yet.
---