The rain pounded against the windows of Leo Valdez's small, cluttered room. To any passerby, it would have looked like a stormy night—the kind of night where you stay indoors, curled up with a warm drink, safe from the chaos outside.
But Leo wasn't like any other kid, and this wasn't any other rainstorm.
As he sat cross-legged on his bed, headphones in, sketching gears and flames in the margins of his notebook, he barely noticed the rain—until it began to turn warm. Drops sizzled on the window, leaving faint trails of steam against the glass. He pulled off his headphones, suddenly feeling the strange heat radiating through the room. The rain outside hadn't slowed, but now, with every drop that hit his window, a surge of energy tingled through him, settling deep in his chest. His fingers felt hot, his pulse quickened, and his eyes were drawn to his palm, where a flicker of flame sparked to life.
Leo yelped, dropping his pencil. "What the—"
But as soon as the flame appeared, it was gone, leaving only a faint warmth in his hand and the soft crackling sound of embers that weren't there.
Across town, Skye Grace was having a very different kind of night. Perched high on her bedroom window, she watched the branches of the old oak tree outside sway in the night breeze. A gust of wind slipped through the cracked window, lifting her hair and swirling around her like an invisible dance partner.
She loved these quiet moments with the wind. It seemed to whisper secrets only she could understand. Tonight, though, the whispers were louder, almost urgent, as if the air was trying to tell her something important.
A stronger gust swept through the room, tugging at the loose papers on her desk, and before she knew it, the wind had lifted her off her feet. Skye's eyes widened, but she didn't panic; instead, she felt a thrill shoot through her, a strange sense of power. She held out her hands, instinctively reaching toward the air as if grasping an invisible rope, and to her surprise, the wind obeyed, holding her aloft for a moment before gently lowering her back to the floor.
"What's happening?" she whispered to the empty room, heart pounding.
Miles away, under the dense cover of night, Calypso Nightshade roamed the quiet woods near her family's cabin. She had always been drawn to the stars, fascinated by the vastness of space and the mysteries it held. Tonight, something had drawn her out here—an inexplicable pull, like a thread leading her through the trees.
The sky was clear, every star in sharp focus, and as she stood there, breathing in the cool night air, she felt a strange connection to the stars above. Her thoughts drifted, and as they did, the stars seemed to move, forming shapes, patterns, messages only she could see. And then, in a blink, she saw something even stranger: a tear in the sky, a swirling portal, as though space itself had opened up just for her.
She blinked, and it was gone, leaving her with a sense of awe and a strange, lingering energy that hummed through her bones.
Back in the city, Jasmine Jackson was locking up the pool at her high school, her footsteps echoing in the empty room. She liked staying late after swim practice; the water had always felt like home. Tonight, though, the water was restless, little ripples darting across the surface as if it were alive.
She touched her fingers to the water, and it responded instantly, forming tiny waves that followed her movements. She stared, wide-eyed, and moved her hand again, this time tracing a spiral in the air. The water spiraled with it, mimicking her movements exactly. It was exhilarating, and yet it felt oddly natural, as if the water had been waiting for her command all along.
In the hills beyond the city, Bruce Wayne was working late in his family's garden, digging through the soil and planting new seedlings. Gardening had always come easy to him, but tonight, as his hands sifted through the dirt, he felt something more—a pulse, a heartbeat in the earth itself. He paused, pressing his palms into the ground, and felt a warmth rise from the soil, traveling up his arms and filling him with a solid, grounding energy.
When he stood, small green shoots were already sprouting where he had planted the seeds just moments before. He looked around, half-expecting someone to jump out and tell him he was dreaming. But the garden was still, and he was alone, left with only the faint thrill of something powerful growing within him.
And finally, on the outskirts of the city, Zane Maddock was tinkering with his grandfather's old pocket watch, his nimble fingers turning the gears with ease. He'd always been fascinated by clocks, by the silent power of time ticking on no matter what happened around it. Tonight, though, as he twisted the watch's crown, something strange happened. The watch stilled, and the ticking sound vanished. But the silence was deeper than that. He looked around, his heart hammering.
The world had frozen.
Leaves hung in mid-air outside his window, a bird was suspended mid-flight, and everything was silent. For a moment, Zane held his breath, caught between fear and exhilaration. Then, with a sudden release, time resumed, the watch began ticking again, and the world returned to its natural flow.
One by one, each of them felt something deep within shift, as though they were seeing their true selves for the first time. A fire that wouldn't extinguish, a breeze that obeyed their thoughts, a sky that bent to their will, water that danced, earth that pulsed with life, and time that could be held and released with a mere thought.
They didn't know it yet, but they were connected. Each was a thread in a tapestry woven long before their time, bound by ancient power and fate.
And somewhere in the shadows, something else had taken notice.
The Dark One had awoken.
A low, chilling laugh echoed through the depths of the earth, and dark clouds gathered on the horizon. The balance had begun to shift, and soon, the six would be called together, whether they were ready or not.
