The Final day
The alarm blared in Marcus Carter’s ears, an irritating siren that yanked him out of restless sleep. He groaned, blindly swatting at his phone until the noise stopped. For a moment, he considered lying back down, pulling the blanket over his head, and pretending the world didn’t exist.
Then reality hit him like a slap.
“Shit.”
He bolted upright, eyes darting to the clock on his phone. 8:42 AM. His lecture started in exactly 18 minutes.
Marcus flew out of bed, yanking on the first hoodie he could find and jamming his legs into his worn-out jeans. His apartment was a mess—empty ramen cups stacked on his desk, a sink overflowing with dishes, and his laptop lying half-open on the floor. He grabbed his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder as he shoved his phone and notebook inside.
He didn’t have time for breakfast. He barely had time to exist.
Racing out the door, he nearly tripped over the pile of unopened mail on the floor.
Bills.
Final notices.
One particularly aggressive red envelope from his landlord. He’d deal with it later.
If he ever got around to it.
The moment he stepped outside, the cold rain smacked against his face like needles. His hoodie did little to protect him, and by the time he reached the bus stop, he was already drenched. The bus pulled up just as he arrived, hissing as the doors slid open.
He scrambled inside, swiping his transit card. The bus was packed, and he had to squeeze between a businessman on a phone call and an old woman clutching a bag of groceries. He didn’t even try to find a seat—he just grabbed a metal pole and let his heartbeat settle.
Marcus hated mornings.
More than that, he hated his life.
For years, he had convinced himself that things would get better. That one day, he’d figure everything out. Get a stable job, pay off his debt, maybe even find something worth waking up for.
But at twenty-two, he was still stuck in the same endless cycle—barely passing his classes, working a dead-end part-time job, and struggling to afford rent.
At this rate, he’d be lucky if he wasn’t homeless by next year.
----
By the time he reachedGrayford University,it was already 8:57 AM.
Marcus sprinted across the rain-soaked campus, hisshoes slapping against the pavement. Students milled around, some staring at their phones, others chatting in small groups. None of them were in a rush.
Because none of them were late like he was.
He burst through the lecture hall doors just as the professor started speaking. The room was massive, filled with over two hundred students. Marcus scanned the seats, spotting an empty one near the middle.
He tried to sneak in.
Tried to be quiet.
But luck, as always, was not on his side.
“You’re late again, Mr. Carter.”
The voice rang through the hall like a judge’s sentence. Marcus froze, feeling two hundred pairs of eyes snap toward him.
Professor Hayes peered over her glasses, her lips pressed into a thin line. Marcus swallowed, quickly slipping into his seat.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered under his breath.
The professor didn’t respond. She simply adjusted her notes and continued with the lecture.
Marcus let out a slow breath, running a hand through his damp hair. His heart was still racing. He pulled out his notebook, though he barely heard a word the professor was saying.
Instead, his gaze drifted to his phone.
Three missed calls from his landlord.
He winced. That wasn’t a good sign. Rent was due last week, and he was already on thin ice. Maybe he could pick up another shift at the diner. Maybe—
A sharp pain stabbed through his skull.
Marcus flinched, pressing his fingers to his temples. The edges of his vision blurred. The lecture hall suddenly felt distant, like he was underwater. The professor’s voice faded, replaced by a strange ringing in his ears.
Something was wrong.
----
At first, Marcus thought it was just a headache. Maybe the stress, the exhaustion, everything catching up to him at once.
But then the lights overhead flickered.
The projector screen glitched, displaying a mess of unreadable symbols. Students whispered, some looking around in confusion. Marcus tried to focus, but the pressure in his chest grew unbearable.
Then—
A brilliant blue light erupted beneath him.
His breath hitched as a glowing pattern spread across the floor, forming intricate runes that pulsed with raw energy.
The temperature dropped, and the air crackled with electricity.
Students screamed.
Some jumped out of their seats, scrambling away from him. Others pulled out their phones, filming the bizarre scene unfolding before them.
Marcus couldn’t move.
His body felt like it was being pulled apart, every nerve on fire. He tried to speak, to call for help, but his voice wouldn’t come.
The runes intensified, swirling faster, brighter.
And then—
The floor vanished beneath him.
----
Darkness swallowed Marcus whole.
He fell.
Fell through an endless void, his body weightless, spinning out of control.
"What the hell is happening?!"
He tried to scream, but the sound was stolen by the abyss.
A voice—soft and distant—whispered in his ear.
“He has arrived.”
“The Starborn awakens.”
Marcus’s eyes widened.
Before he could process the words, a brilliant silver light engulfed him. He felt something shifting inside him, a strange warmth spreading through his chest.
And then—
He hit the ground.
----
The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. Marcus gasped, blinking against the harsh sunlight. His body ached, his limbs heavy.
He wasn’t in the lecture hall anymore.
He was lying on soft grass, surrounded by towering white pillars covered in glowing blue symbols. Beyond them stretched an endless forest bathed in golden light. Strange, bird-like creatures soared through the sky, their wings leaving behind faint trails of luminescence.
It was breathtaking.
But also terrifying.
"Where the hell am I ? "
A rustling sound made him freeze.
Footsteps.
He turned his head just as a figure emerged from the trees.
A girl, no older than him, with long silver hair and piercing violet eyes. She wore an intricate white cloak, a curved dagger strapped to her hip.
She stared at him, her expression unreadable.
Then, before Marcus could speak—
She drew her weapon.
And pointed it directly at his throat.
“You,” she said coldly. “Who sent you here?”
Marcus swallowed.
"Oh, crap."
