Chapter 1: The Breaking Dawn of Ang Mo Kio

At five in the morning, the horizon was just touched by a faint, fish-belly white, a delicate line separating the inky black of night from the promise of dawn. The air hung still and cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and the distant murmur of the waking city. In the heart of Ang Mo Kio's housing estate, the streets were already stirring, a silent ballet of early risers beginning their day. A lone teh tarik master, his movements fluid and practiced, skillfully swung his gleaming metal pots, the frothy tea drawing an elegant, caramel-colored arc in the air, its rich, spicy aroma a comforting blanket against the chill. This fragrant steam mingled with the exhaust fumes of a lone delivery truck, creating a uniquely Singaporean symphony of smells. Yoges, riding his cherished, modified vintage motorcycle, its chrome glinting faintly in the pre-dawn light, deftly weaved through the growing crowd. The rhythmic thrum of the engine, a familiar vibration against his thighs, was a comforting constant in his life. His destination: the Ang Mo Kio Electronic Supply Power Plant, a beacon of light in the distance, his goal to arrive by six. For Yoges, a Malaysian Indian working in Singapore, the daily commute between Johor Bahru and Singapore, though exhausting, was filled with hope for the future—a future where his family could thrive, where his wife, Vina, could finally pursue her passion for floral artistry without the constant worry of financial constraints, and where his aging parents could finally retire in peace, their days filled with the simple joys they deserved. He gripped the handlebars a little tighter, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his anticipation.

The power plant, nestled deep within the sprawling Ang Mo Kio industrial area, was a behemoth of concrete and steel, its towering cables a stark silhouette against the lightening sky. The air thrummed with the low, constant hum of its powerful machinery, a sound that resonated deep in Yoges' bones. It was the city's beating energy heart, a complex network of wires and transformers that pulsed with unseen power. As Yoges parked his motorcycle, the kickstand clanging softly against the pavement, and hurried through the plant, the vastness of the space always took his breath away. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss today. The air felt charged, almost electric, a palpable tension that prickled his skin. The usual hum of the machinery seemed to vibrate with a strange intensity, a discordant note in its familiar rhythm. He entered his workstation, the familiar smell of ozone and metal filling his nostrils, a scent he usually found comforting, but today, it was tinged with an unfamiliar, almost alien scent, a faint metallic tang that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

"Yoges, late again!" Anandh, his stern Indian supervisor, a man whose presence filled the room with an almost tangible weight, his thick eyebrows furrowed, his face a mask of displeasure. He glanced at his gleaming Rolex, a symbol of his authority and success, its subtle ticking a counterpoint to the plant's constant hum, his tone carrying an air of unquestionable authority, a subtle reminder of the power he held over Yoges and his colleagues. "Time is money, Yoges. And in this place, it's also about safety. Punctuality isn't just a courtesy; it's a necessity."

"Sorry, Anandh, traffic was heavy," Yoges apologized, the words feeling thin and inadequate, knowing Anandh's near-obsessive punctuality. He gave Anandh a cautious look, his heart pounding a little faster, silently hoping for a smooth workday, a day free from reprimands and complications. He knew Anandh wasn't just concerned about the schedule; he was also worried about the aging infrastructure of the plant, the constant pressure to maintain operations with limited resources.

"Change quickly. We need to move, this cable's old and prone to failure," Anandh said, a hint of worry finally breaking through his stern facade, aware of the cable's importance to Ang Mo Kio's power supply. "Any downtime could lead to serious repercussions. We can't afford that. The entire district relies on us."

Yoges changed into his worn work clothes, the familiar fabric a small comfort in the face of the mounting tension, and went to the cable repair site. Prem, his Malaysian team leader, a man known for his calm demeanor and steady hand, was finalizing the repair plan with Vincent, the meticulous Chinese leader of another team, his brow perpetually furrowed in concentration. They stood by the massive, aged cable, its thick, black casing cracked and worn, blueprints in hand, brows furrowed, discussing a tricky problem, their voices low and urgent, their words punctuated by the hiss of escaping steam. Kenny, his resentful Chinese nemesis, a man whose ambition outweighed his skill, stood arms crossed, a subtle, almost predatory smirk playing on his lips, his sharp eyes, like those of a hawk, constantly scanning Yoges, seeking an opportunity to undermine him, to expose any weakness. "Late as usual, Yoges," Kenny muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Yoges to hear, a subtle jab designed to unsettle him.

"Yoges, inspect the cable joints. Alvin, clean the cable surface," Prem assigned tasks, his voice calm and firm, a steady anchor in the swirling currents of anxiety, instilling confidence amidst the tension. Yoges began inspecting the joints, the cold, metallic surface slick with a thin layer of grime, tightening bolts with practiced ease, and examining details with a magnifying glass, his breath fogging slightly in the cool air. He felt a sense of responsibility weighing on him; he knew the cable's importance, any mistake, any oversight, could cause severe consequences, not just for the plant, but for the entire community. He ran his hand along the cold, metallic surface, feeling the subtle vibrations of the power flowing through it, a silent, unseen force that held the city in its thrall.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his eyes, a blinding flash of light that felt like a physical blow, a dizzying sensation clouding his vision, making the world spin around him. He saw the joints flash with a strange blue light, an otherworldly glow that pulsed with an unsettling energy, like an alien substance seeping in, violating the laws of physics. Yoges was startled, the light unsettling, and he felt a strange, tingling sensation spreading through his body, a wave of energy that seemed to originate from the very core of his being. "What's happening?" Yoges gasped, covering his eyes with his hands, trying to block out the searing light and ease the throbbing pain, feeling something stir within him, an unfamiliar energy flowing, surging through his veins like molten fire. He felt a surge of warmth, like a fire igniting in his veins, and his heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden silence.

"Yoges, what's wrong?" Prem noticed Yoges's distress, his calm facade cracking with concern, asking with genuine care, patting his shoulder gently. "Are you alright? You look pale. What did you see?"

"My eyes... I saw something strange..." Yoges stammered, his voice barely a whisper, unsure how to explain the impossible, the inexplicable. His vision blurred, the world around him distorted, the familiar shapes of the power plant warping and twisting, and he felt a strange, almost otherworldly presence in the air, a sense of something vast and ancient watching him.

Then, the cable crackled, a sharp, snapping sound that echoed through the vast space, a surge of electricity erupting, the air filled with a burning smell and the sharp, acrid tang of ozone, the smell of unleashed power. Yoges felt something awaken within him, a dormant potential finally unleashed, a strange energy coursing through his veins, his muscles tensing, his senses heightened to an almost unbearable degree. He felt his blood boiling, muscles trembling, an unprecedented power growing, an instinct telling him to act, to protect, to control the chaos that threatened to erupt.

"Careful!" Yoges shouted, his voice echoing with an urgency he didn't know he possessed, a primal scream born of instinct and fear. His eyes, now glowing with an eerie blue light, pierced through the chaos, seeing the world in a new, terrifying clarity. He clearly saw the surging current, a chaotic river of energy about to cause an explosion, the energy signatures like a map in his mind, the intricate pathways of power laid bare before him. He felt his body move, as if guided by an unseen force, an intense energy gathering in his palm, an irresistible force pushing him forward, compelling him to act.

In a split second, Yoges extended his hand, his fingers outstretched, a brilliant blue beam shooting out, a concentrated burst of energy that sliced through the air and struck the cable's fault with pinpoint accuracy. The surging current was instantly absorbed, contained, the chaotic energy channeled and controlled, the cable stabilized, the crisis averted. The air crackled with residual energy, a faint hum that vibrated the very ground beneath their feet, and the scent of burnt metal hung heavy in the air, a testament to the power that had been unleashed and contained.

The site fell silent, a profound stillness that replaced the chaotic energy of moments.