Chapter 2: The Ripple
The night had a taste of electricity, like the city itself was holding its breath. Kalin walked past a row of shuttered shops, his hoodie soaked with drizzle, his mind barely on the mundane path he took every night. But something was different. Every shadow he passed seemed heavier, every distant siren sharper, as if the air itself whispered his name.
He rounded the corner of an alley and froze. A figure was there, watching. Not hiding, not threatening, just… observing. A girl, but unlike anyone he had ever seen. She moved like she belonged to the skyline, her posture perfectly balanced between grace and command. And yet, she didn't belong to this street. The contrast made him uneasy—and curious.
Kalin didn't know why, but his pulse thrummed harder. His power stirred, not violently, but like a heartbeat responding to a distant drum. He could feel it—her presence triggered it, though he had no idea why.
"I've been watching the ripple," she said, her voice calm, measured, with a note that made people obey it without thinking. "It's rare. Most people never notice."
Kalin blinked. "The… ripple?"
She stepped closer, and for a moment he could see it—just barely—a shimmer in the air around him, like heat over asphalt in the daytime. Something moved, something hidden, something alive. She smiled faintly, not cruelly, but knowingly. "It's your pulse. The force you think you control. You're stronger than you realize."
His heart raced. No one ever noticed, no one ever spoke to him like this. Not until now. And yet, something in her eyes told him she wasn't just intrigued—she had power too. A different kind. Calculated, refined, and untouchable.
Kalin's fingers itched. He could manipulate, bend, freeze… almost anything. But here, now, with her? The rules felt different. Like there was a system he hadn't discovered yet.
"You can't just wander blind through the city," she said, her gaze flicking to the shadows, "not when… they are watching."
"They?" Kalin asked. The word felt heavy on his tongue.
"The hidden ones," she replied, almost like a warning. "The ones who move wealth, power, governments… all without anyone seeing. They call themselves Omnivare. And your little pulse? It's making waves they don't want."
The air seemed to thicken around Kalin. Waves. Hidden forces. People who controlled everything, and now him—an invisible variable in their equation.
He swallowed. "Then why are you telling me this?"
Her smile deepened, sharp but fleeting. "Because they'll come for you. And if you want to survive… you'll need to learn fast. The world isn't as blind as you think."
Kalin realized that nothing he had lived through—the hunger, the cold, the desperation—had prepared him for this. The city's streets, once familiar, now looked like a chessboard, and he was suddenly a piece with powers that could topple kingdoms—or be crushed underfoot.
She extended her hand, not for friendship, not yet. For an offer. A choice. A step into a world that had always existed, invisible, untouchable, and absolute.
Kalin stared at it. His pulse thrummed. The ripple in the city answered. And the night waited.