Shade: Unbound

In the murky depths, a boy floated, his limbs moving with a languid grace, a silent dance with the currents. The tide of gray bore down on him, eroding his once-vibrant essence. But amidst the bleakness, a flicker of longing shimmered within his eyes, resembling a distant star begging to be seen.

With a single movement, he surged through the water, a sleek predator chasing an elusive prey, his gaze fixated on the distant shore. The currents recoiled from his fervor, resisting him as if guarding a long-held secret. They whispered caution, urging him to reconsider his path and heed the mysteries that lay hidden beneath the surface.

Unfazed by the opposition, the boy forged ahead. Every firm motion cleaved through the resistance like a relentless blade. With reluctance, the currents yielded, guiding him hesitantly toward his destination.

He burst forth from the abyss, hands clasping the forgiving grains of the sunlit shore. A tangible foothold in a realm reborn, at last. Droplets of water ceased clinging to his form, cascading down in a shower of prismatic radiance, each droplet a fleeting prism that refracted the memories of his journey.

They danced in the air, a celestial ballet of liquid gems, as if bidding farewell to the depths which had held him captive. The glistening trail he left behind mirrored his metamorphosis. It spoke of hunger, a desire to prove himself against the shadows that threatened to consume his spirit.

Stretching beyond the sands, a vast expanse of barren land unfolded, devoid of life and sustenance. In the center of this desolate domain stood a colossal mountain, its summit hidden by the clouds.

The boy advanced, eager to commence his climb.

*******

Finn's eyes snapped open, heart pounding like a drum. He blinked, struggling to grasp the remnants of a dream more vivid than reality—textures, colors, and sounds evaporating like smoke. Adrenaline surged as he leaped from his chair, scanning his cluttered room—a familiar mess of posters and scattered books.

Could it be…?

Finn thrust his hand toward the wall, breath catching in his throat. His pulse quickened. Any second now… Nothing. A beat passed, still nothing. “Come on,” he muttered through gritted teeth, willing something to happen. He had been waiting for this moment his entire life—only to find… nothing.

He paced, anxiety creeping in. Had he been foolish to believe he was special? Maybe it was all a trick of his mind. Finn inhaled deeply, grounding himself. No! This was real. Something new had to be within him.

His gaze fell on his pen and notebook, shimmering under his stare. No, they were brighter.

As if pulled by an invisible thread, Finn crept toward his desk, heart hammering. The pen lay like a silent promise. He reached out, trembling fingertips hovering above the smooth surface. The instant his skin grazed the pen, a ripple of color surged from his fingers, spreading across the pen until it shimmered a vibrant electric blue. Finn swallowed—this was real. His power was real.

Awe washed over him as he stared at the shimmering pen. After years of feeling like a nobody, he was finally… something.

The next moment, he tried to focus on his power again.

His vision went dark.

Finn’s pulse quickened, panic surging through him. He stumbled backward, colliding with his chair and hitting the floor with a thud. “What…” His voice trembled as he scrambled up, breath quickening. Eyes darting around the now-ominously quiet room, he felt the walls closing in.

Light filtered in from under his door, casting long shadows that danced across the floor. The comforting mess of his room faded, replaced by looming silhouettes. He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, but the air felt thick.

“Alright…” he whispered, the sound barely audible. “So I can black out a room.” Gift or curse?

What if he couldn’t control it? He was superhuman. The implications hadn’t fully sunk in yet. He could seriously hurt people. Obscure the ground and trip someone. Darken a crowded stairway and wait for the domino effect. Black out all traffic lights at a busy intersection and cause mass chaos. Vivid images of car wrecks and broken bodies flashed through his mind. It would be easy.

Shaking those thoughts away, he turned back to the pen, now pure white. While at first, he hesitated to do anything else with it, a swell of determination nudged aside the fear. He flipped it over in his hand, marveling at how it retained its color after he stopped focusing. There wasn’t even any difference in tactile sensation. Nothing other than visual proof. This was it—his power. The ability to manipulate colors—or light? Either way, it was something.

His heart raced with anticipation as he considered the possibilities. Would it be enough? Finn clenched his fists. He was ready to push his limits. He could control this.

Experimentation ensued. He learned he could change colors without touching objects; it was just harder. As he brushed against the walls, he watched waves of black and white dance across them. Making things lighter or darker could have real uses! What if he could brighten a gloomy day or cast shadows for cover? Excitement mingled with anxiety, bringing his mind back to the balance he needed to maintain.

Considering, he swept his orange bangs aside—

Wait.

Finn bolted to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. In the mirror, a wide-eyed boy stared back, hair flaming orange. He was leaner than most, just shy of average height, and his usual bluish-gray eyes widened in disbelief. He touched his hair, heart pounding. Dispelling his power, it reverted to brown. So, his ability wasn't limited to inanimate objects. What if he could use it on himself—and others?

With determination flaring in his chest, he focused, paying more attention to his reflected self than he had in a long time. After a tense moment, his skin tone darkened, eyes brightened, hair turned canary yellow. He attempted to shift it to a normal blonde but only managed a wild, chaotic mix. He held his breath as his hair flickered into wild colors, control slipping from his grasp.

Green splotches flickered across his face, then he reversed it. The green spread, interspersed with patches of his pale skin. It was exhilarating, but what if he had an accident? What if he outed himself in public, or altered himself permanently? No, he wouldn’t make a mistake like that. It was fine.

Finn stepped back to the wall, observing himself from a distance. He concentrated, trying to match the color of the tiles. To his astonishment, he nearly succeeded! This one technique had incredible implications. Camouflage. Maybe even invisibility one day! The thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine.

It didn’t matter. He’d work with what he had. Blending in was a start.

He practiced until he saw progress, which wasn’t until he was well into the impromptu training session. But as thrilling as this was, reality hit him like a cold wave. What next? This power could open several paths.

When Finn finally opened the bathroom door, his heart sank as he came face-to-face with his mother. Her arms were crossed, her red hair catching the light from the hallway.

"Mom?" he said, trying to sound normal, though his pulse quickened.

"Finn, what were you doing in there?" she asked, her tone sharp but not angry. "This is the third time I’ve come up to tell you dinner is ready."

His stomach flipped. Had it really been that long? He had lost track of time entirely. "Just... looking in the mirror," he replied, trying to keep his voice even. But even to him, the lie felt hollow, like a poorly rehearsed line in a play.

"For two and a half hours?" she pressed, her brow arching.

Finn froze, his mind scrambling for an explanation. Two and a half hours? He had no idea it had been that long. His palms began to sweat, though his face remained carefully neutral. She couldn’t know. She could never know. Could she tell? Could she sense that something was off?

Then he realized the colors on his socks were still off, and fought really, really hard not to give into the urge to look down.

His mom’s stance softened slightly, her arms lowering. "I suppose you are at that age now," she mused, her voice taking on a thoughtful tone.

Finn's heart pounded, but not for the reason she probably thought. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t know about his powers. No one could. It wasn’t just about changes that came with being a teenager, it was something so much bigger.

"I'm not angry," she continued, running a hand through her red hair—actual red hair, unlike his poor imitation earlier. "I know you're going through a lot of changes right now. Your body, your mind... it's normal to feel confused or curious."

Finn clenched his jaw, nodding to get through the moment. His mother’s words and the faint embarrassment he felt from them blurred together, the intended reassurance missing the mark entirely. She wasn’t anywhere close to the real issue. She was talking about puberty, when what he was dealing with felt like another universe.

"...and if you ever need to talk about anything, you can come to me. You don’t have to go through things alone," she finished.

"Yeah. Thanks, Mom," Finn muttered, trying not to sound too distant. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

She gave him a small smile, satisfied with his response, and turned to head back downstairs.

Once the door clicked shut, he leaned against it, heart still racing. What was happening to him? He was supposed to use his powers, but he had to figure out how.

He had to choose.

That part, at least, was simple.

He would have to become a hero. Honestly, it was the only way. There was no other option—he couldn't become anything else, knowing what was at stake. This wasn’t just about him.

And even if he didn’t have a good reason, the only other options were villainy, which just wasn’t happening, or the military, which lacked upward mobility, freedom, and had a minimum age of sixteen for enlisting. No sense in waiting months before getting out there.

But even with that resolution, the path ahead was murky. If he joined a government program, he’d get a costume, support, everything covered. But telling his mother about his powers? There was no point; she would never understand. The less she knew, the better.

Independent hero? That was more appealing. But was he really ready? What if he just ended up patrolling his neighborhood, barely scraping by? He couldn’t afford to stagnate; he needed to grow!

There was someone he needed to fight, after all.

He rummaged through his pocket, retrieving his phone and searching for the app he was looking for. Having visualized this day for so long, it felt strange to be signing up for Aegis Corp.

Working for a decentralized mercenary corporation with influence in most parts of the world? He would have preferred not to, but it was a shot at real power.

Ostensibly, it offered only hero work, but everyone knew villains likewise accessed and utilized the network to keep apprised of the latest events. Furthermore, they used it to stage their own operations with secret codes for access and recruitment. Such was the price of anonymity. Anyone would be able to sign up.

Hence why many clients featured hidden requirements in their missions and submitted personalized requests to established heroes with a good reputation or a known skill set. Finn also wondered if he wouldn’t be putting himself at a disadvantage by not using the support network the other superhumans in the city had access to. He probably couldn’t even afford not to register. How far would he get if everyone else was exchanging information while he patrolled the streets blindly?

The registration screen appeared, asking for a name. Chroma, Hue, Spectrum—none resonated. They all gave a rather limited impression of his power. There was more to him than what those labels conveyed. He left it blank for now, putting it off for later.

He skipped the power section as well. No specific requirement, but how would he gain access to missions without showcasing his talent? It felt like a ticking clock; the more he hesitated, the more options slipped through his fingers. Aegis was right there, offering him countless possibilities.

And the store was their main selling point. Without it, the organization wouldn’t have been nearly as popular. Finn understood why, as it was also his main reason for joining.

Money, gadgets, weapons, primebeast materials, even surgery. If you had the credits, you could buy it. Granted, some things were illegal, but Aegis delivered internationally. Meaning that if one could travel to a place with different laws…

Overwhelmed, he took a deep breath. The agreement to take responsibility for his actions brought clarity. It felt like a promise, like he was finally seizing control.

He filtered for stealth missions when his profile was ready, finding a long list. Low pay, but expected. He could build himself up slowly, learn the ropes. Besides, Darkshiv did this sort of work, too.

Finn's thoughts flew faster than he could keep up. This was it—his first step into a new world. Could he do it?

“I’m going to do it,” he whispered to himself, his breaths coming faster now. “Tonight.”

His hands hovered over the screen. He was actually moving forward with this. No more fantasizing in his room about what he would do if he got powers. The day had come.

Hesitation gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside. This was his moment. He had a goal, a target.

He exhaled slowly, then clicked the button.