In the year 202X, the world was familiar—but never quite the same.
Airships quietly drifted above glass-like skyscrapers. Steel trees powered by solar pulses lined the streets of Washington City—rebuilt thrice since the Second Dawn War. In textbooks, it was still called Earth. Still known for its wars, politics, and legends.
But the First President—the man who helped birth the republic—was spoken of with both reverence and confusion. Records were contradictory. His tactics during the Revolution were… inexplicable. Some said he moved faster than the eye could track. Others claimed bullets bent around him.
Noah Washington sat near the back of Room 3A, silently solving the advanced physics equation projected at the front of the class. His hand moved in sharp, efficient strokes. He finished before anyone else—again—but didn't bother to raise it.
He was quiet, precise, and always alone.
Teachers whispered about his brilliance. His scores were unmatched in every subject: physics, chemistry, political theory, ancient history—even languages. He mastered things most students struggled to comprehend.
But it wasn't just that.
Noah was built like an athlete—lean, fast, coordinated—but he never tried out for sports. No one had ever seen him run, punch, or lift. He deliberately avoided gym class when he could. Rumors swirled that he was scared, weak, or hiding something.
He didn't care. He liked the silence. The distance.
His only real interest, beyond learning, was observing. People, patterns, problems—they all fascinated him. But the more he saw, the more out of place he felt. Like the world was just slightly misaligned. Like he was watching someone else's life from inside the wrong skin.
And lately, the dreams had returned.
Fire in the sky. Blades of light clashing in a world made of ruins. A man—tall, commanding—falling to his knees as seven shadows closed in.
Noah always woke up just before the killing blow.
That day started like the others. But it didn't end that way.
A low hum filled the classroom. The lights flickered—then froze in an eerie violet hue. The air changed. Heavy. Charged.
Symbols began to etch themselves across the floor beneath the students' desks. Black lines intersected with glowing sigils. A circle of dark blue light pulsed beneath Noah's chair—then widened, consuming the entire row.
"Noah?" someone whispered, the panic starting to rise.
He didn't answer.
His gaze was fixed on the center of the circle, as if he recognized it.
The floor dropped away.
And so did the world.