A Knock on the Door
What the hell was that...?
The image still burned in Eli's mind. A helicopter spiralling into the earth. Bodies slumped, lifeless. Aether—purple, wrong—writhing in the cabin. And then that thing… teleporting out just before the crash.
He stared blankly at the television, where the feed had long since cut to a pale blue screen. In harsh white letters, a government-issued message looped:
"We'll be right back. Stay indoors. Stay safe."
Yeah. That always made people feel so much safer.
Temp jumped onto the couch, curling beside him, placing his heavy head squarely in Eli's lap. A low whine escaped the dog's throat. Eli ran his fingers through Temp's fur, grounding himself in the moment.
He grabbed his phone with his free hand, unlocking it with muscle memory, and opened the chat group named "Uni." Everyone in his class—including their homeroom professor—was in it.
Unread messages blinked at the top.
"Did you guys see the news?"
"Yeah… Should we be worried??"
Prof. Halden: "This is just someone's mana core going unstable. Happens every few years."
"Didn't you see that helicopter crash?! That's not normal, Professor!"
Eli sighed, scrolling with a thumb. That wasn't helpful.
The TV glowed dimly in the corner. Temp's tail flicked once. Eli kept scratching behind his ears.
The air felt wrong.
Just in case…
He stood up, gently shifting Temp off his lap. He walked over to the front door, slipped his keys into the lock, and turned them with a soft click. Then he left them in—still locked, but easy to double-check later.
The leftover pasta was long finished. Tomato-smeared dishes sat neatly stacked in the sink. Eli rinsed them, loaded them into the dishwasher with practiced ease, and headed toward the bathroom.
With a casual flick of his fingers, he released a controlled pulse of air pressure.
Click.
The dishwasher door shut cleanly behind him. A second pulse triggered the sensor.
Whrrr…
It started up with a low hum.
Eli didn't look back.
Eli stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The hiss of water against tile filled the small space, steam curling up to fog the mirror.
As he peeled off his shirt, his mind still replayed the broadcast on loop. The way that thing moved—erratic, but precise. The bite. The teleportation. The sudden, wild crash. That wasn't just someone losing control of their mana core.
Could it have been… necromancy?
The thought drifted in like steam through an open window, but he shook his head. That sort of magic was theoretical—mythical, even. The textbooks listed it under obsolete classifications, dismissed as legend by modern researchers. No evidence had ever emerged of it working, let alone manifesting in someone.
Maybe someone's ability mutated? Tweaked their genetics by mistake? That seemed more likely… but still. You'd have to be either wildly unlucky—or deliberately twisted—to end up with a power that could mimic undeath.
Which left the final possibility.
What if it wasn't a power at all?
He stepped into the warm spray, water cascading over his shoulders. Muscles unknotted, just a bit. The heat helped, but it didn't loosen the knot in his stomach.
In a world where everyone had powers—where quirks of DNA were the cause behind everything from flying to healing—it sounded almost absurd. But the thought refused to leave him.
A virus.
Not a spell. Not a core malfunction. A scientific accident.
The idea clung to him even as he stepped out of the shower, towelling his hair dry. It followed him into the bedroom like a shadow. Even the familiar softness of his mattress didn't ease it.
Under the covers, Temp already curled at the foot of the bed, tail twitching in light sleep. Eli opened his phone again, more out of habit than hope.
The class chat hadn't changed much. More panicked messages. Professor Halden trying to calm people down with measured responses.
Then came the news sites.
A few were down. Others replayed earlier footage on loop.
No updates. No real answers.
He was just about to give up for the night when his screen lit up with a new government alert. The font was harsher than usual. Blockier. Red.
[EMERGENCY ALERT – ABILITY CONTAINMENT FAILURE]
ZONE: RENDLE CITY + MUNICIPALITIES
STATUS: NOT CONTAINED
CASUALTIES: 1000+
ADVICE: REMAIN INDOORS. AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.
Eli stared at the words, motionless. The warm sheets around him suddenly felt suffocating.
This wasn't just someone losing control.
Something new had entered the world. And it was spreading.
Rendle City was at least a hundred miles away. That fact alone offered a small bubble of comfort—just enough for Eli to breathe a little easier.
He silenced the alert screen but left the volume on, placing his phone beside the mattress within arm's reach. Just in case.
Temp stirred as Eli lay back down, the shaggy black shepherd mix letting out a quiet huff and shifting in his sleep. A single pat behind his ears sent one ear twitching, then settling back against the blanket. His breathing slowed again.
The studio wasn't large, but it was home. A narrow hallway opened into the living space—just big enough for a small sofa, a dining table, and the TV on its low shelf. The kitchen hugged one wall with an island that had seen far too many late-night meals. Next to the dining table, a compact wooden staircase spiralled up to the open loft above.
That's where his mattress lay—a wide, king-sized slab of fabric directly on the floor, no frame, just comfort. There was no real separation between spaces, but Eli liked it that way. Open. Honest. No dark corners.
He rolled onto his side, the warmth of the covers wrapping tighter around him. But sleep didn't come immediately.
His eyes traced invisible patterns across the ceiling.
Zombies… seriously?
The idea felt like something from the pulp novels his classmates read during lectures. Outlandish. Irrational. Magic already ruled the world—what else could possibly go wrong?
But the memory of that broadcast lingered in the silence.
He exhaled through his nose and turned onto his back.
It didn't matter now.
Whatever was happening was miles away, and it wasn't his problem—at least not yet.
All that mattered tonight was closing his eyes—falling asleep.
It started as warmth.
A field. Not the kind he'd ever seen in real life, but something impossibly golden and wide, lit by a sun that hung too low in the sky. The grass shimmered like silk, waving without wind. He stood barefoot, feeling nothing beneath his feet.
Far in the distance, figures stood.
Dozens of them.
Not moving, not approaching. Just watching.
Their faces were blank. Some bled light from their eyes, others had none at all. But they didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
They whispered, too quiet to make out. Like rustling leaves, or distant static on an old radio. The sound came from every direction and nowhere at once.
Eli took a step forward.
The grass didn't bend.
The whispers grew louder.
He tried to turn back—but his legs refused. Another step forward. Then another.
The sky flickered. That perfect gold began to peel, cracking at the edges like burnt paper. Darkness leaked in.
One of the figures in the distance moved. Twitched. Then all of them did.
Their heads turned in unison, faces angled toward him. Their mouths opened—
BWAAH!
A digital buzz blared against the silence, followed by a high-pitched ping-ping.
Eli bolted upright, heart hammering, breath caught in his throat. Temp let out a low growl in his sleep, then went quiet again.
His phone screen glared into the darkness.
He blinked. Focused.
[EMERGENCY ALERT - ABILITY CONTAINMENT FAILURE – NATIONWIDE ALERT]
Status: NOT CONTAINED
CASUALTIES: 10,000+
ADVICE: SHELTER INDOORS. LOCK ALL ENTRIES. AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.
– Federal Security Broadcast (FSB)
The glow of the screen painted the room in pale blue, and for a moment, everything felt still.
Too still.
Eli didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared.
His dream had already begun to fade—but the chill it left behind still clung to his skin like damp fog.
Eli barely had time to process the message when Temp jolted upright with a sharp, guttural bark—more panic than warning.
"Temp?" Eli whispered, throat dry.
The dog stood at the edge of the mattress, fur bristling, ears flat against his skull, low growls rumbling from deep in his chest. His gaze was locked on the narrow loft window above the kitchen.
Eli followed it.
Beyond the glass, the skyline of Vellwyn was burning.
Smoke plumed in thick ribbons across the horizon. Orange and red licked the rooftops like a second sunrise had clawed its way through the night. Sirens didn't echo. There was no sound at all. Just fire. Distant and impossibly close.
Eli moved slowly, heart thudding, leaning over to grab his phone again—
THUD.
A heavy knock. No—bonk. Like someone hitting the door with their whole weight. Wood and metal vibrating from the impact.
Temp leapt off the bed, claws scraping against the wooden stairs as he darted toward the hallway.
Eli didn't breathe.
Another bonk, heavier this time. Then nothing. No voice. No scratching. No begging for help.
Just silence.
Vellwyn burned quietly in the distance.