Astral Knight

Dylan woke up in a daze, his chest heaving as if he'd just run a marathon. His lungs felt like they were filled with sand, each breath a struggle that left him wheezing and hyperventilating. The room spun around him, the walls closing in as he fought to steady his breathing. His hand shot out instinctively, searching for his inhaler, but it wasn't there. Panic surged through him, his heart pounding in his ears.

The door creaked open, and Aunt Marla stepped in, her face a mix of concern and exasperation. She carried a glass of water in one hand and a damp towel in the other. Without a word, she pressed the glass into his trembling hands and began dabbing his forehead with the towel.

"Drink," she said, her voice firm but not unkind.

Dylan didn't need to be told twice. He gulped the water down, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. The sound of him swallowing echoed loudly in the quiet room, and he could feel Aunt Marla's eyes on him, watching him with that heated but affectionate gaze of hers.

When he finished, she held out a small pill bottle, but Dylan shook his head, pushing it away.

"No," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "Not those."

Aunt Marla raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She set the bottle on the nightstand and crossed her arms, her gaze never leaving his face.

"You look like death warmed over," she said bluntly. "What happened last night?"

Dylan hesitated, his mind racing. He couldn't tell her the truth not all of it, anyway. "Just… couldn't sleep. Went for a walk."

"A walk," she repeated, her tone flat. "At two in the morning?"

"Yeah," he said, avoiding her eyes. "Needed some air."

*Really... some air, bro you've lost more air than yesterday than you've passed your grade test.. Tttt not a very good excuse.*

Aunt Marla sighed, shaking her head. "You're lucky you didn't get yourself killed. Or worse, arrested. You know how folks around here feel about folks sneakin' around at night."

Dylan didn't respond. He couldn't. His mind was still reeling from the events of the previous night the chase, the strange glowing object, the burn on his hand. He glanced down at his palm, half-expecting to see the blistered skin, but it looked normal. Had he imagined it? From that moment nothing felt real again. Dylan remembered the burning of his palm yesterday, his flesh was sizzling like a meat over the coal, but now it was so new he didn't think it was his own.

Aunt Marla's voice pulled him back to the present. "You were organized when you came back, though. I'll give you that."

Dylan blinked, confused. "What?"

"Your walk," she said, her tone softening slightly. "You were organized. Came back, locked the door, didn't wake me up. That's not like you."

Dylan frowned. He didn't remember coming back. The last thing he remembered was collapsing in the woods, his lungs on fire, his inhaler misplaced. How had he gotten home? *Yes that's true... How the actual fuck did i get home?*

He knew his friends at NovaGen wouldn't mind if he was too be taken back to sleep in their lab if they found him. Marcus, pftttt ..... probably went of the grid forgot even his own car and couldn't get a minute of sleep after he tucked himself tight on his father's bed. He didn't recall any good Samaritan which he didn't believe in, bringing him back home. This was tricky, some sort of IQ test maybe.

Aunt Marla didn't seem to notice his confusion. She straightened up, her hands on her hips. "Anyway, breakfast is downstairs. And don't forget first day of school today."

Dylan's eyes widened. School. He'd completely forgotten.

Aunt Marla gave him one last look, her expression a mix of concern and something else he couldn't quite place. Then she turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Dylan sat there for a moment, his mind racing. School. The thought filled him with a sense of dread he couldn't quite explain. He wasn't ready to face the world, not after everything that had happened.

But he didn't have a choice.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his body protesting every movement. His head throbbed, and his lungs still felt tight, but he forced himself to stand. He needed to get ready. * This couldn't possibly be real, maybe it was just some bad dream or..or maybe he didn't go out with Marcus.. just a normal walk Dylan.* Dylan thought to himself none of this was making any sense. The more he kept looking for an explanation, the more stupid he felt. So he just gave up, brushed his hair backwards with his hands and did some careful stretching lest something decided to shift.

*Oh dear, I've already lost a lung can't be loosing my mind too. I just wanna be normal but i guess being normal isn't for me.*

As he shuffled toward the bathroom, his mind kept drifting back to the previous night. The glowing object, the burn on his hand, the way it had seemed to pulse with energy. What was it? Was it even real? And why had it been in that room?

He didn't have any answers, but one thing was clear something very, very unethically strange was going on and he didn't need more complications in his life.

And Dylan was determined to figure it out.