The air felt heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.
Elius stood on the rooftop, the city sprawled beneath his boots like a reflection of his inner chaos. The wind tousled his dark hair as he leaned on the railing, holding the communicator to his ear. Radiant Man's voice buzzed through the device, stiff with tension, yet laced with disbelief.
"You said… his hair turned gold?" Radiant Man's voice trembled, a crack in the usual heroic timbre that carried so many weighty declarations in the past. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but Elius caught it—because he had been waiting for it.
"Yes," Elius answered flatly. "It shimmered, bright, brilliant. A beam of light erupted around him when the control broke. His aura flared. And just like that, his hair turned gold."
He said it not just to report it, but to press down on something—to twist the blade into whatever suspicion Radiant Man had kept buried.
A long silence followed.
