Philip Williams hated Mondays.
Not because of the classes — those were tolerable. It was the repetition, the dull loop of lectures, cheap coffee, half-hearted conversations, and the constant hum of ceiling fans that made him feel like life was on autopilot.
He sat at the back of Lecture Hall B, half-listening to Professor Granger drone on about "macro-environmental forces." His pen tapped rhythmically against his notebook, but the page remained blank — just like his motivation.
Outside the dusty window, seagulls circled lazily above the coastal city. Salt in the air. Waves crashing in the distance. It should've felt freeing. But to Philip, it was just background noise to a life he didn't ask for.
He glanced at the clock. 4:42 PM.
Almost time to head back to the dorms. Back to his single bed, cracked ceiling, and a shared bathroom where the tap never stopped leaking.
This was his life. Repetitive. Predictable. Quiet.
Until that night.
When the sky tore open, and a star fell — not from above, but from somewhere within.
By the time Philip reached his dorm, the sky had turned a deep indigo. Streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows on the cracked pavement. The sea breeze had picked up, carrying a strange scent — not salty, not floral — something metallic, almost electric.
He slumped onto his bed without turning on the light. Just silence, save for the leaky tap and the distant crash of waves.
He stared at the ceiling, tracing the spiderweb cracks above like constellations.
His phone buzzed.
"Party at Block C? Come on, man. You need this." – Mason
Philip smirked, typing back:
"Pass. I'm in the mood for existential dread tonight."
He tossed the phone aside, closed his eyes…
And then everything changed.
The room vibrated — subtly at first. Like a far-off engine revving up. Then it hit — a shockwave, deep and primal, shaking the walls. The lightbulb above exploded in a flash of sparks. Power died. Total darkness.
Philip stumbled to the window, heart pounding. At first, he saw nothing.
Then… he saw it.
A streak of blazing light sliced through the night sky, brighter than anything he'd ever seen. But it wasn't falling like a normal shooting star. It twisted, curved, aimed. And it wasn't burning up — it was growing brighter the closer it came.
BOOM!
The impact shook the entire dormitory block. Windows shattered. Car alarms screamed. Somewhere, someone shouted. But Philip didn't move.
Because the star — no, whatever it was — had landed.
Less than half a kilometer from his dorm.
And for a moment… everything was silent again.
Until the light rose.
And it started to pulse.
Philip didn't think — he moved.
Still barefoot, he threw on his hoodie, grabbed his flashlight, and tore down the dorm stairwell. The building was eerily quiet. No alarms. No voices. Just the steady dripping of that leaky tap echoing through the hallway.
Outside, the world looked… normal. No panicked students. No flashing lights. Just the usual hum of the street lamps and the distant roar of the ocean.
But he had felt it.
The quake. The pulse. The presence.
He ran across the empty courtyard, past the security gate. Nobody stopped him. No one even looked up from their phones or windows.
And then he saw it — the light. Faint, but pulsing. Not in the sky anymore, but beyond the cliffs, deep in the woods.
He sprinted toward it, lungs burning, heart pounding. The air felt different here — charged, like before a thunderstorm. The trees whispered as if they knew something.
He reached the clearing.
And there it was.
A crater. Smoking. Still hot. At its center hovered the orb — not a rock, not a meteor — something unnatural. Shifting, glowing, humming.
Philip stood frozen.
"Why didn't anyone else notice?" he whispered.
And the moment the thought crossed his mind…
The orb turned toward him.
And something spoke — inside him.
"Because it was meant for you."
The ground beneath him trembled, but only slightly.
"You are the first."
Philip stumbled backward. The first? The first what?
Before he could think further, the orb surged brighter, louder, and faster and the world around him blurred.
And then… everything went black.
around their arrival the next day:
Philip woke up in his bed.
No smoke. No crater. No orb.
Just the cracked ceiling and the endless drip of the bathroom tap.
For a moment, he thought he dreamt the whole thing.
But his hoodie was scorched. His shoes were still muddy. And his flashlight — still clutched in his hand — was bent at an unnatural angle, as if it had melted halfway through.
Something happened.
The whole day at college felt... off. Not for everyone — for him. The lectures buzzed past like white noise. His classmates laughed, gossiped, stressed about tests. But Philip couldn't shake the feeling that the world had shifted just slightly — like he was standing in the same place, but everything had rotated one degree.
And then they arrived.
It was during lunch, on the courtyard steps, when a black car pulled up near the admin building. No school crest. No driver in uniform.
Three students stepped out.
The girl — tall, athletic, with piercing eyes like frozen lightning. She scanned the campus like she'd seen it a hundred times already.
The guy with glasses — quiet, sharp, holding a notebook tightly to his chest like it was sacred. He didn't look up. He didn't need to.
And the third — a lean boy with silver hair and a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. He moved like a shadow that chose to be seen.
They didn't speak. They just walked. Confident. Unbothered. Like they didn't arrive — they were meant to be here.
Philip felt it the moment they stepped onto campus.
The same pulse. The same presence.
His heart kicked. Not from fear — from recognition.
These weren't ordinary students.
And as the silver-haired one passed by, he glanced at Philip and gave a small nod.
Not a greeting.
A warning.
That night, sleep didn't come easily.
Philip tossed and turned, his mind stuck on the strange students, the crater, and that pulse. He finally drifted off past midnight — but it wasn't peaceful.
He dreamed.
But not in pictures.
In words.
They echoed in an endless, colorless void.
"The vessel awakens."
"The seal is broken."
"He must choose… or be chosen."
"Purpose is not given. It's remembered."
Each word rippled through him like thunder rolling in reverse, vibrating down to his bones.
Then — silence.
And then — a noise.
Not in the dream.
Real.
A sharp, high-pitched hum — like metal grinding against air. Philip jolted upright, sweating. It was still night. But something wasn't right.
The hum was real. It was coming from above.
He grabbed his flashlight and slipped out of his room, climbing the stairwell all the way to the rooftop. The moment he opened the door, the cold wind slapped him hard. And then — he saw it.
A figure.
Standing at the edge of the roof, bathed in pale moonlight.
Not one of the three from earlier. Someone else. Cloaked. Still. Watching the forest line where the crash had happened.
Philip took a step closer.
The figure turned its head — slowly, like a marionette being pulled by invisible strings. Its eyes glowed faintly beneath the hood. Not human. Not fully.
"You heard the call," it whispered, voice like dry leaves on fire.
"Now they'll come for you."
And in a blink — the figure was gone. Like mist torn apart by wind.
Philip was alone again.
Except… he wasn't.
Behind him, three shadows watched from across the rooftop entrance.
The girl.
The boy with the notebook.
And the silver-haired one.
Philip spun around, heart racing.
The three stood there, silent, blocking the rooftop exit. The silver-haired one stepped forward first.
"You saw it, didn't you?" he asked calmly, but there was a glint of tension in his voice.
The girl crossed her arms. "And the figure… it spoke to you?"
Philip didn't answer.
"What did it say?" the boy with the notebook asked, his voice sharper. "Tell us. Now."
Philip clenched his fists. "Who are you?"
They didn't answer.
Instead, the girl lunged.
She moved like lightning, her fist slamming into Philip's ribs before he could blink. Pain exploded through his side as he stumbled back, gasping.
"You don't understand what's inside you," she hissed. "You weren't supposed to survive the contact."
Philip raised his hands in defense — too slow. The silver-haired one appeared in front of him in an instant, grabbed him by the hoodie, and threw him across the rooftop.
He hit hard, coughing blood. His vision blurred. The humming in the air grew louder — like something beneath his skin was trying to break free.
"We'll extract it if we have to," the boy with glasses muttered, opening his notebook. Runes glowed on the pages. "One way or another."
They advanced.
Then — it happened.
Philip screamed as a sudden surge of white-blue light erupted from his chest. A shockwave blasted outward, sending the trio flying backward like ragdolls.
He stood up slowly.
Eyes glowing. Veins lit like circuits. Hands crackling with energy.
And he moved. Faster than he should be able to. Instinctively.
He struck — one blow sent the girl sprawling across the rooftop. He caught the silver-haired one's punch mid-air and twisted, dislocating his shoulder. The boy with the book tried to chant something — Philip silenced him with a burst of energy that shattered his protective rune like glass.
"What… what is he?" the girl gasped, clutching her side.
"He wasn't supposed to awaken this fast," the silver-haired one growled, stumbling back.
They ran.
Disappearing into the stairwell like prey sensing the hunter had turned.
Philip stood alone in the moonlight, panting, fists still glowing.
And for the first time… he understood.
"This power… it came from the crash."
And now, whoever — whatever — had given it to him…
Was waiting.