The Asher

The Asher: Chapter 1 - The Strike

The sky was painted a shade of deep gray, a storm brewing on the horizon. It was an unusual sight for a summer afternoon, but the people of Blackwood City were used to strange weather. Asher, a young man in his mid-twenties with a habit of daydreaming, strolled down the street, lost in thought. The rain had not yet begun, but the heavy, humid air felt electric, as if nature itself was holding its breath.

Asher was heading home from his job at a local bookstore, where he spent most days surrounded by tales of adventure and magic. Little did he know, today he was about to experience something far beyond the stories on those dusty shelves.

As he approached the city square, a sudden flash of lightning tore through the sky, followed almost immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. He glanced up, startled. The air felt charged, like static electricity prickling on his skin. He had the urge to find cover, but his curiosity kept him rooted in place, watching the dark clouds churn above.

Unbeknownst to him, a series of underground experiments were taking place just a few blocks away. In a secret lab, Dr. Nathaniel Cross, a brilliant but reckless scientist, was testing a new device designed to harness the energy of lightning. The machine, an intricate web of wires and glowing tubes, was supposed to draw in the raw power of a storm. But something had gone terribly wrong. The storm intensified beyond control, spiraling into a force far greater than anticipated.

Asher felt a strange pull, like a magnetic force drawing him towards the center of the square. He tried to resist, but his feet moved involuntarily. His heart raced as the wind picked up, swirling leaves and debris around him in a chaotic dance. He barely had time to register what was happening when a bolt of lightning, brighter than anything he had ever seen, struck him directly.

Time seemed to stop.

He didn't feel pain at first—just a cold, numb sensation, like being plunged into icy water. The world around him slowed, colors dimming and sounds fading away. He could see raindrops hanging in the air, suspended like tiny crystal beads. His thoughts were a blur, but one word rang clear in his mind: Why?

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment passed. The force that held him vanished, and he collapsed onto the wet pavement, unconscious.

Passersby screamed, rushing towards him. Someone called for an ambulance, while others whispered in shock, pointing at the scorch marks on the ground where the lightning had struck. The storm quickly dissipated, as if it had spent all its fury in that single moment.

Within minutes, paramedics arrived and loaded Asher onto a stretcher. His body was limp, but there was no sign of severe burns or injury, just a faint, golden glow flickering across his skin. The medics exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of what they were witnessing.

As they drove off, sirens wailing into the distance, a shadowy figure watched from a nearby alleyway. It was Dr. Cross, his face pale and eyes wide with realization. He hadn't expected the lightning to strike anyone, let alone infuse someone with its raw power. He knew immediately that this was his doing. His machine had malfunctioned, and now an unsuspecting young man lay at the mercy of forces beyond comprehension.

The scientist's hands trembled as he turned and walked away, a mix of fear and guilt swirling inside him. He had no idea what kind of power he had unleashed—or what this young man would become.