Cael's life was outright simple.
He lived in a town with one school, one bus line, one local shop that smelled permanently of cheap floor cleaner, and exactly zero surprises. It wasn't a bad life—just forgettable. Even his dreams were quiet, like someone else's memories played at half volume. Every morning, the same three pigeons flapped off the cracked roof across from his window. The same milk delivery van wheezed by at 6:42 AM. Even the weather seemed tired of changing—perpetually overcast, like the sky couldn't be bothered.
He was fifteen years old, and Cael Harrow had mastered the art of doing just enough—because trying never made a difference.
The teachers at St. Elwin's Comprehensive knew that by now. He handed in assignments late but still managed perfect scores. He answered questions with a shrug and a bored tone—not because he was arrogant, but because everything felt like busywork. Empty motion in a world that never changed.
He sat in the back corner of the classroom, hood up, earbuds in, pretending to listen to lo-fi while actually listening to everything. Conversations, sighs, even the flickering hum of the ancient overhead lights—he noticed it all.He'd once tried to calculate how many hours of his life he'd spent staring at the classroom ceiling tiles. The number had been depressing. More so when he realized they'd all looked exactly the same—just faint variations in dirt and decay.His notes were full of tiny sketches and weird symbols he didn't remember drawing, wrapped around half-finished formulas.
"Mr. Harrow. Would you care to join us in this reality?"
Cael blinked up at Mr. Halcombe.Math. Right.He said nothing, just rotated his notebook around and slid it forward.
The teacher squinted at the work. His frown twitched.
"...Correct. Again."
The class murmured. Cael leaned back, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't that he wanted to embarrass anyone. He just couldn't fake enthusiasm for a world that seemed stuck on repeat.
He'd spent all fifteen years in the same flat neighborhood, where nothing ever shifted out of place. The buses groaned by like clockwork. The sky stayed locked in a permanent shade of grey, as if someone had turned down the saturation and forgotten to fix it.
Every morning, the same trio of pigeons launched themselves off the cracked rooftop across the street, always too lazy to fly far. At precisely 6:42 AM, the milk van rattled past with a wheeze like it was coughing up its last mile. Even the clouds looked bored—just a smudged ceiling over a world stuck on repeat.
Life felt like a hallway with flickering lights and no doors.No magic.No wonder.
Until he woke up the next day, and things weren't quite the same.
His phone alarm didn't go off. That was the first glitch. Cael checked it—dead battery, even though it was plugged in.
He rubbed his face, rolled out of bed, and that's when it hit him.
A faint chime, like a notification, but inside his skull.
Then the text appeared—not on a screen, but hovering in front of him. Like light etched into the air.
SYS: AETHERIS INITIALIZEDWelcome, User: CAEL HARROW
▫ Hydration: 98%▫ Calories: 1247 / 2500▫ Emotional Stability: 6.4 / 10▫ Urban Access Tier: CIV-2▫ Vein Resonance: DORMANT
He blinked. "What the hell is this?"
The glowing overlay remained, pulsing softly, as though waiting for him to do something.
But there was nothing to click. No menu. No tutorial voice. Just raw data. Health stats. Emotion metrics. Vein Resonance?
He reached toward the floating UI instinctively, but his hand passed through it like smoke.
No alarms. No magic fire. No dramatic music.
Just the same dead phone, same dull light filtering through his bedroom window, and now a weird, useless interface burned into his vision.
Cael Harrow sat down on the edge of his bed and stared into nothing.
And for the first time in a long time… he was curious.