Racing Star

They say legends don't die - they just vanish when the world no longer deserves them.
That's how it was with Xelqua. The best racer anyone had ever seen - no, felt. You didn't just watch him drive; you felt it in your bones, in the way the air seemed to bend around him and the roads turned to liquid silver under his tires. Some called him reckless, others called him untouchable, but everyone agreed on one thing: Xelqua wasn't human behind that wheel.

He could thread through traffic like wind through the trees, drift around corners at impossible angles, and leave the competition choking on the echo of his engine. They say he raced not for fame, not for money, but because the road called to him - like it was alive, whispering only his name.

Then came the night of the accident. No one knows exactly what happened. Some say his car caught fire mid-race, others whisper he went off-road chasing something no one else could see. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left. No wreck. No body. Just tire marks that ended in dust.

Since then, people have been arguing - did he retire? Did he die? Or did he simply become one with the machine, driving roads the rest of us will never see?

All I know is this: his car, that sleek midnight racer they called Ghostline, vanished with him. Custom built, tuned to outrun anything on the ground - even the cops couldn't catch it. And trust me, they tried.