The sun was already slipping beneath the horizon when Dave stood quietly outside the modest townhouse in Washington, D.C. From the outside, he looked like any other high school student-backpack slung over one shoulder, hands in his pockets, staring at nothing in particular. But inside him, a power far older than time stirred, as calm as it was terrifying.
He had lived with Mira for as long as he could remember. She wasn't his real mother-at least, not by blood-but she was the only mother he'd ever truly known. The way she spoke, the way she smiled with gentle grace, how she always seemed to know when he was holding something back-Dave loved her.
Not with the hesitant love of a stranger taken in, but with the kind of quiet loyalty that ran deeper than blood.
Mira never told him everything, not even when he asked. But she kept him safe. Raised him.
Watched over him like a hawk hidden behind a veil of warmth. And in return, Dave never gave her trouble-well, not much.
As he turned to head inside, Mira's voice called gently from the kitchen,
"Back so
soon?"
Dave kicked off his shoes and grinned, "Told you I wouldn't burn the city down."
Mira peeked her head from around the hallway. "You say that like I wasn't tracking your every move from here."
"You need a hobby," Dave said with a smirk.
"I have one," she replied dryly. "It's keeping a cosmic-level ticking time bomb from blowing up my kitchen."
Dave chuckled. "Well, mission accomplished.
I'm still in one piece."
"And the city?"
...mostly."
She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Go wash up.
Dinner's in ten."
Dave nodded, but his eyes lingered on her for a moment. The warmth she carried, the strength behind her calm—it always amazed him. She didn't know the half of what he was.
What she couldn't know, was that Dave had awakened.
He had awakened when he was seven years old.
Since then, his powers had grown in secret.
He had lived two lives—the one Mira saw, and the one the universe had started to whisper about.
Tonight, the stars were a little too quiet.
Dave's eyes flicked upward.
Something was coming.
He didn't know what. He didn't fear it.
But he knew... it was coming.