The rain tapped softly on the window of a cozy apartment. The room glowed with the warm hum of yellow lamps and laughter.
Paul spun his daughter around in the air as she squealed in delight, her arms stretched like airplane wings.
"Higher, Daddy! Higher!"
"Alright, Captain Emily! Prepare for takeoff!" he laughed, his voice full of love.
His wife, Alina, chuckled from the couch. "She's going to throw up on you one day, I swear."
Paul brought Emily down and held her close, kissing her forehead. "Worth it."
They sat together, drawing with crayons on the floor. Emily proudly held up a lopsided figure with lightning bolts around it.
"Look! That's Eclipse!" she said. "He's scary but cool!"
Paul raised an eyebrow. "Scary?"
"He fights bad people! But… sometimes it's too much. I think he's sad."
Alina smiled. "Even heroes carry heavy hearts, sweetheart."
Paul looked at the crayon drawing again, thoughtful.
He didn't know much about Eclipse. No one did.
But deep inside, Paul felt something familiar—like a storm building far away.
He blinked it away and tickled Emily. "Alright, you little hero-watcher. Time for bed."
In a cold, broken room on the edge of the city, James sat hunched over a worn desk. The single bulb above him flickered like it was struggling to breathe.
His knuckles were bruised.
His arms sore.
His mind shattered.
The fight last night still replayed in his head.
He didn't mean to break that man's ribs. He only wanted to stop him.
But once the rage took over, it wasn't James throwing the punches.
It was Eclipse.
The other side of him.
"Am I really saving people... or am I just releasing the monster inside me?"
He looked over at his suit lying crumpled on the floor. Dried blood stained the gloves.
He hadn't cleaned it.
He didn't want to.
He couldn't forget.
The next day at school, James walked in wearing the same hoodie for the fourth day in a row. His classmates didn't notice him. They never did.
Except one.
"Mr. James," said a calm voice. "Take a seat."
Paul smiled warmly at the front of the classroom. "I heard you've been working nights at the port."
James nodded. "Yeah… just some lifting. Pays okay."
"Well, if you ever want to talk about science or need help with physics, I'm around," Paul said, handing him a worksheet. "You're sharper than you think."
James blinked, caught off guard. "Thanks."
Paul turned and continued the lesson, full of energy and curiosity. He loved teaching. And James could tell… this man wasn't fake. He wasn't like the others.
There was something comforting about him.
For once, James didn't feel completely invisible.
That night, the city bled.
James heard the scream before he saw the smoke. His body moved before he could think.
Eclipse launched into the alley where a robbery was turning into a massacre.
Three men stood around a fallen store owner, kicking him, laughing.
He dropped between them like a bolt of lightning.
The first thug turned. Too late. A punch shattered his jaw—he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
The second swung a crowbar. Eclipse dodged, grabbed his arm, and slammed his elbow backward. A crack echoed in the alley as the man screamed.
The third tried to run.
Eclipse flew—literally flew—tackling him to the wall with enough force to dent metal.
He stared into the thug's eyes. Blood leaked from his mouth.
"You were going to kill him…"
"I-I didn't mean—!"
Eclipse's fist raised, crackling with suppressed lightning.
The man screamed.
James hesitated.
His breath was ragged. His vision blurred red.
But he lowered his hand.
He wasn't that far gone.
Not yet.
Later, sitting in his secret hideout, James tried to study.
He couldn't.
The screams wouldn't stop.
He slammed his fists into the wall. It cracked.
His phone buzzed.
A new message. No number. Just text.
"You call yourself a hero. But do you remember what really happened the night you were born?"
James's heart froze.
Another ping.
A video.
He hesitated.
Then pressed play.
It showed him.
The rooftop.
Lightning.
Screaming.
Then static.
The video ended suddenly.
James dropped the phone. Backed away.
"Who… who sent this?"
His pulse raced. His hands trembled.
He wasn't alone.
Someone had been watching him.
Someone knew.
On the floor beneath the door, he noticed a black envelope. No name. Just a strange symbol drawn in silver—a circle split in two.
He opened it with shaky hands.
Inside, a note:
"The truth is coming. The world doesn't need a savior. It needs something worse."
James staggered back.
His breath caught in his throat.
He wasn't ready for this.
He didn't even know what "this" was.
But the shadows were closing in.
And the storm inside him was waking up again.
To Be Continued…
Next week on Friday