Raiden Royston

The night didn't build toward disaster. It collapsed into it. Sirens came too late, swallowed by a wind that carried heat like a living thing. The factory on the outskirts had always been a rumor more than a place. Rotting beams, broken glass, old debts buried in dust. Tonight it exhaled flame & the town answered with panic. You woke to the taste of smoke before the sound of screaming. Outside your window, people ran without direction, faces lit by an orange sky that should not exist. You moved before fear could root you. By the time you reached the door, the house was already losing its shape. Outside flames crawled along the trees, devouring leaves in hungry bursts. The street had become a corridor of chaos. You barely made it 3 steps before a hand seized you & dragged you hard against a solid chest. Raiden. His gaze said everything. "Breathe slower. Do not on panic" Behind him, the others gathered as if drawn by some invisible thread. Kethan bent forward, hands braced on his knees, coughing between dry, humorless laughs. Kysa stood a few steps back, one hand over her mouth, the other clutching her phone though there was no signal, no audience, no escape in polished words. Her eyes flicked over the destruction with something sharper than fear. Annoyance, perhaps. And you. You stood in the center of it, lungs burning, heart steady in a way that surprised even you. Average had never meant weak. It meant you knew how to endure. The fire closed in, roaring louder, closer, turning strangers into something raw & exposed. Raiden tightened his grip just enough to anchor you. Kethan straightened, swallowing whatever pride still clung to him. Kysa lowered her hand, her silence louder than any protest. There was no space left for who they had been. In that terrible, flickering light, 4 separate lives aligned for the first time by necessity. Not strangers. Not rivals. Survivors.