Chapter 1: Tangled Sparks
Dr. Lena Voss hunched over her desk at the Mauna Kea Observatory, the hum of cooling fans a steady drone she'd tuned out. At 32, she was young for her post, dark hair spilling from a hasty ponytail, glasses slipping down a nose sharpened by late nights. The high-altitude air bit her lungs, but her triple monitors glowed with star charts, Andromeda's spiral looming like a cosmic threat. 85% of the universe expansion is unexplained, going against known physics. Conveniently coined as dark matter and dark energy. Galaxies moving away from each other, yet here's Andromeda halo approaching, unknown energy peaks no textbook explained. She'd tracked it for months with the Subaru Telescope: a collision course, imminent, flooding their region with forces she couldn't pin down yet.
"This isn't right," she muttered, voice tight, fueled by Red Bull, her third can sat dented beside scribbled notes.
The door creaked. Milo, her lanky grad student, shuffled in, bleary-eyed, a coffee mug dangling from his hand. At 23, he was all elbows and sarcasm, surviving on caffeine and her goodwill.
"Still at it, Lena? It's past midnight. You're gonna crash," Milo said, slumping against a console, nearly knocking over a stack of printouts.
"Maybe, but crash later," Voss snapped, eyes glued to the data. Andromeda's edge warped, "Look at this, gravitational anomalies, spiking like a heartbeat. It's not just noise."
"Noise?" Milo snorted, peering at her screen, rubbing his neck. "You mean the universe's mixtape? What's it playing, doom metal?"
"More like a warning track," Voss said, smirking despite herself, adjusting the telescope feed. Static flickered, sharp. "Andromeda's not just sitting there. It's rushing us, dumping energy we can't dodge."
"That's impossible, Andromeda is 2 million light years away. Collision won't happen for a couple billion years give or take a million" Milo said, raising an eyebrow, sipping his coffee, spilled a drop, cursed softly.
"Light years don't mean squat when it's bending space," Voss shot back, fingers flying over the keyboard. Data scrolled, purple peaks climbing. "This surge, it's hitting Earth, right now. I'd bet my last Red Bull it's waking something."
Milo grinned, leaning closer (too close, knocking a pen off her desk). "Waking what, space monsters? Glowing randos? You've been doom scrolling too much."
She swatted his arm, half-laughing. (Kid's a pain, but he's quick.)
"Laugh it up, Milo. Those 'randos' match my readings," Voss said, flipping to a hacked feed, Project Veilwatch.
Her breath hitched. It was a government op, tracking the same surge. Fragments she'd stitched over weeks: "anomalous subjects," "enhanced capabilities," "containment priority." One line froze her: "Awakened assets deployed." People, touched by this, weaponized. (How long have they known?) She'd caught whispers at a conference last year, "cosmic contingencies," fringe then, real now.
"Whoa, you're in deep," Milo said, peering at the encrypted files. She shoved the screen away. "What's 'Veilwatch'? Some Area 51 crap?"
"More like 'don't ask, don't die,'" Voss said, voice low, syncing Connect posts: "Goblin trashed my car in Ohio, fake af lol.""Guy glowed blue in Tulsa, CGI garbage."
Considered as noise, but it's data to Lena. She synced them with her data: gravity blips in Ohio, energy spikes in Tulsa, patterns no one caught. A video looped, a kid hurling a rock fifty feet, captioned "Super strength? Lmao." Comments mocked: "Movie stunt," "Photoshop." Lena scribbled, "Human anomalies linked to surge?", handwriting frantic. News dismissed it, CNN called Tulsa a "prank." She scoffed. (Idiots.)
"Coincidence," Milo shrugged, then paused. Static hit, a massive surge spiking her readings, energy off the charts, shaking her chair. "Okay, what the hell was that?"
She checked the timestamp, 23:47, March 07, a rift event, real and monstrous.
"That," Voss said, scribbling fast, "Unprecedented spike, Awakened trigger?", heart racing, "was a surge. Huge, stateside, somewhere. Something just went off."
"Off like a nuke?" Milo asked, eyes wide, coffee forgotten.
"Off like a power I can't measure yet," Voss said, voice sharp. Andromeda pulsed, purple and alive. "Get me the radio logs. We're not alone in this."
Half a continent away, Kai slouched in the warehouse break room, scrolling Connect as username HiddenTroll on his cracked phone, the weight of six months since business school graduation a dull ache. Fluorescents buzzed, nearly drowning Riley's wrench clanks as she wrestled a conveyor belt, the latest casualty after her forklift fiasco. His shift had ended, but he lingered. The rooftop was his escape, stars whispering dreams of science he'd loved since chanting Sesame Street to learn English, worlds his supply chain diploma couldn't touch. He's awkward around girls. Three rejections, "Too weird," "Loser," "Pathetic," hardened his silence, forged at 12 when he'd landed in the US, smiling blankly at kids who laughed at his broken words, fists flying when "fuck off" wasn't a hello.
He'd fought back, three-on-one, boots in his ribs, used to it since seven in a slum, fending for himself while his mother scraped to immigrate. Odd jobs kept him alive, scrap, crates, but the funeral home paid best: twenty bucks to pick up a body, thirty to assist embalming, thirty more for viewings. He'd carried corpses twice his size, watched fluids drain under flickering lanterns, set chairs for mourners who ignored him. The youngest was eighteen, a girl, naked on the slab, her stillness stirring guilty heat, then nausea that kept him up nights. Girls terrified him after, dead or alive, a knot of shame and fear making him a raging introvert, a string of heartbreaks trailing like ghosts.
Cancer took his mother at 18, on his birthday, leaving her telescope and a dream to be a doctor. Grief sank his grades, medicine slipped, so he settled for business, a cage he hated. Now, at 24, he doom scrolled Connect posts, each tugging that buried dream: "Goblin chased me, fake.""Dude glowed blue, trash.""Lifted a dumpster, hoax." A woman sparked flames, "Firestarter? Lmao, CGI." Another: "Goblin near here, cops say bear. Bullshit." Comments: "Movie promo," "Grow up." Kai's gut twisted. He'd seen the sky shimmer for weeks, sketching it like the science he'd devoured. News called it an "aurora glitch"; police blamed "drones." A radio blurb, "Glowing figure in Tulsa dismissed, calm urged," rang hollow.
"Stargazer!" Riley's voice snapped him up, yanking him from memories of knuckles and corpses. She wiped greasy hands on jeans, smirking as she sauntered over. Faint purple threads sparked around her fingers, same as last week with the forklift, cursing its gears. Kai had watched, awed, as those threads grew brighter, sharper, the dashboard sparking, wires sizzling, circuitry melting into slag, acrid smoke rising. She'd laughed it off, "Junk crapped out, rare glitch," and the supervisor agreed, muttering "faulty wiring" as they hauled it away. Kai didn't buy it, those threads weren't normal, but he stayed quiet, too scared of her to speak.
"What's got you hooked?" Riley asked, oblivious to his stare.
"Just… weird stuff," Kai mumbled, eyes on his chipped mug, safer than her gaze.
"Weird like those monster rumors? You're obsessed," Riley said, dropping into a chair, boots thudding on the table, too much like a bully's kick.
"Bet you think that goblin's real, huh? What's your theory, cosmic pranks?" Riley asked.
"Maybe," Kai said, face burning, her voice dug up every laugh, every fight, every rejection, her power amplifying it. "Sky's been off lately. Could be…"
"Stellar love notes?" Riley teased, eyes dancing, a spark that tightened his chest, shame and want twisting. "Stars flirting with you?"
"Only if they're as loud as you banging that belt," Kai risked, voice shaky, defiance from years of hits.
"Oh, you've got bite!" Riley laughed, bright, unguarded, hitting him like a punch, his stomach flipped, hope he didn't trust.
The door slammed open. Chad swaggered in, six-foot-two of gym-bro glory, biceps bulging, hair gelled glossy.
"Yo, Riley, still babysitting this twig?" Chad flexed, grinning, another fight Kai couldn't win. "Saw you fix that belt, hot stuff. Ditch him, spot me."
Kai shrank, rejection stinging, girls like Riley didn't pick him, not with Chads around, not with his scars.
"Chad, I'd rather date the forklift, before it crapped out," Riley said, kicking her boots off the table. "Better stories, less grunting."
Kai snorted, then froze. Chad's glare pinned him, like a gang's sneer.
"What's funny, nerd? Bet you buy those Connect hoaxes, monsters, magic hands," Chad mimed a curl, smirking. "Only power I need's here."
"Still not lifting your ego, big guy," Riley smirked, a blade Kai couldn't wield.
"I'd crush any monster, saw that post. Total fake," Chad puffed up. "You'd cry, twig, stick to stars."
The lights flickered, a stutter prickling Kai's skin, like those lanterns. A hum shook the room, deep, rattling the table, coffee sloshing, death's echo anew. Riley's boots hit the floor.
"That's not the grid," Riley said, standing, smirk gone, her confidence a wall he couldn't climb.
"Chill, it's just…" Chad started, flexing, unbothered.
The window flared. The sky ripped open, a rift gashing the lot, jagged, pulsing purple. Three figures erupted from it, scuttling into the dim light. Kai's first glimpse froze him, monstrous beyond reason. They were squat, no taller than his waist, but grotesque, skin like wet slate, glistening with a sheen of filth, stretched tight over wiry frames. Their heads lolled, too large, skulls bulging with uneven ridges, eyes sunken pits glowing red as embers, flickering with malice. Noses flared wide, snuffling the air, leaking black ichor that dribbled onto jagged teeth, yellowed, curved like fishhooks, jutting from lipless maws that drooled strings of rancid spit. Claws capped their gnarled hands, long, black, chipped like old knives, scraping the asphalt with a screech that clawed his spine. Spines bristled along their backs, bony and barbed, quivering as they hunched, tails lashing, short, spiked, whipping the ground. A stench hit, rotting meat and sulfur, thick enough to gag, alien, alive, shredding crates with feral glee.
Riley cursed, faint purple threads sparking around her hands.
"Stay here," Riley snapped, bolting out, grabbing a wrench from the table as she went.
"What the…?" Chad gaped, then snarled, snatching a fire axe from the wall, his bravado flexing.
Kai didn't stay. Those Connect posts weren't fake, and he'd faced worse at seven. He stumbled after, legs shaky, the goblins' shrieks, high, wet, like drowning rats, echoing in his skull.
Riley hit the lot, threads lashing. A goblin's arm sliced off, black mist spraying as it shrieked, violence he knew. She crushed it with brighter sparks, air rippling, control he'd never had. Another goblin lunged at Chad, who roared, swinging the axe full force, blade biting its shoulder with a dull thunk, steel meeting resistance like stone. A small gash opened, black mist trickling, but the goblin barely flinched, snarling louder, claws raking Chad's arm, blood welling, red like the slab's runoff.
"Shit!" Chad yelled. "These assholes are tougher than they look!" axe dropping as he flailed back toward the warehouse. "Not worth it!"
The goblin chased, relentless, claws slashing air.
Kai turned, too late. The third goblin slammed Riley into the asphalt, her head cracked a crate, wrench clattering, threads flickering out as she lost consciousness.
"Riley!" Kai yelled, voice breaking, panic and helplessness.
The two goblins rounded on him, one from Riley, one peeling off Chad, claws raised, red eyes glinting like death's lanterns. He stumbled back, pain seared as claws slashed his arm, tearing his jacket. Warm liquid flowed down his arm as his vision dimmed, expecting death. A purple flare burst in his mind, bright spark-like threads spiraling from his hands, intense and vivid, a surge tearing through him, both goblins' chests imploding with wet crunches, limbs twisting, black mist spraying as he blacked out, the power's echo fading.
He jolted awake, sprawled on cold ground, arm bleeding, alive, fighting. The goblins lay dead, one a heap, chest collapsed; another mangled, limbs splayed; the third near the warehouse door, ribs caved in, a small axe gash on its shoulder, corpses he'd made, the surge's toll proving steel couldn't match. Riley stirred, breathing shallow, a bruise blooming on her temple. Chad loomed, panting, flexing, arm scratched, back from his retreat, weak despite his size, axe abandoned on the ground.
"Took care of it, twig," Chad said, voice tight, lying like those kids, sweat beading as he glanced at the axe.
"What?" Kai blinked, head throbbing, the surge's hum faint. (I did that, not him.)
"Yeah, uh, smashed those freaks," Chad shifted, rubbing his arm, guilt Kai knew. "You blacked out, lucky I stepped up."
Riley groaned, sitting up, clutching her head, alive, intimidating.
"Chad?" Riley rasped. "You got them?"
"Guess you're the hero," Kai muttered, truth wouldn't help without proof.
"Yeah, babe, had to," Chad nodded, jaw tight, she turned away, hiding a quick snort. "I thought we were done. Thanks, I owe you."
Riley said, gratitude locking, a look Kai'd never earned.
Headlights cut the dusk. A black van rolled in, unmarked, engine growling. Doors slid open, three people emerged, dark gear, masks reflecting dying light. One tapped a wrist device, scanning, Chad, Riley, Kai.
"Two potentials detected," a man said, cold, pointing at Chad and Riley. "Negative on the third."
A woman stepped forward, boots crunching, faint purple mist trailing her hand, glowing softly. Kai's throat tightened. (Healing?) She knelt by Riley, mist intensifying, Riley's bruise faded.
She rose, a gentle purple haze steadying over Chad's arm, cuts sealed smooth under the mist.
"Names and what happened," the woman said.
"Took one down, got hit. Chad finished them," Riley mused as she rubbed her temple.
"Smashed those freaks, saved them. Pure muscle," Chad puffed up.
"I… didn't see much. Chad got them," Kai stammered, the lie burned, hands still.
"Riley, ranged. Chad, enhanced strength, per testimony. Kai, null," the man typed. "You two, with us, training starts tonight," the woman nodded at Chad and Riley. "You, stay. Forget this," the woman told Kai, mist dimming, nothing sparked in him.
"Hell yeah, I'm in!" Chad grinned.
"Fine," Riley frowned but had known for a while about her mysterious sparks and welcomed any clarity, glancing at Kai. (He's off.) Then followed.
The van roared off, dust stinging Kai's eyes. (They're wrong, it was me.) The surge's echo taunted, silent.