Eidolon: The Shifting Sovereign

The night Zayn Silas died was the night his new life began.

It started with the screech of tires and the deafening crunch of metal against stone. A sharp pain exploded in Zayn's chest as his car spun out of control, slamming into the highway's concrete barrier. The world blurred into flashes of red and white as his body was hurled from the wreckage like a rag doll. Then, there was silence—a void where his heartbeat should have been.

Zayn's consciousness flickered like a failing lightbulb. He vaguely remembered the shouts of onlookers, the cold touch of rain on his skin, and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. His body was shattered—broken ribs, fractured limbs, and deep gashes that bled freely onto the asphalt. He should have died then and there.

But he didn't.

As darkness claimed him, a strange warmth erupted deep within his chest. It wasn't comforting; it was searing, like molten lava coursing through his veins. His broken bones began to shift, knitting themselves together with unnatural speed. Torn muscles and ruptured organs fused as if guided by an unseen force. It wasn't healing—it was reconstruction.

Zayn woke up gasping, his hands clawing at the pavement. He felt... different. His skin rippled unnaturally, and his hands trembled as he stared at them. Something beneath the surface of his flesh seemed alive, shifting like restless shadows.

"Hey! Are you okay?" a voice called out.

Zayn turned, his vision sharp yet distorted. A paramedic sprinted toward him, his face a mixture of relief and confusion.

"You were in that crash, weren't you? How are you even—" The man froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening in horror.

Zayn followed the paramedic's gaze. His left arm, which moments ago had been splintered and twisted, was now a mass of blackened, sinewy tendrils slowly retracting into the shape of a human limb.

"Stay back!" the paramedic shouted, fumbling for his radio.

"Wait, I—" Zayn tried to speak, but his voice cracked. Something felt wrong in his throat.

Before he could explain, the paramedic bolted, leaving Zayn alone on the rain-slick highway. He staggered to his feet, his body heavier than he remembered. Each step felt unsteady, as if he were learning to walk all over again.

His reflection in the shattered side mirror of his car stopped him cold.

His face was the same—sharp jawline, unruly black hair, and stormy gray eyes—but his skin seemed... wrong. It shimmered faintly, as if something dark and liquid pulsed just beneath the surface.

"What... what is happening to me?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

Minutes turned into hours as Zayn wandered aimlessly, his mind racing. He avoided the highway, sticking to dark alleys and abandoned streets. The city lights cast eerie shadows that seemed to dance around him, mirroring the turmoil within.

As dawn approached, Zayn found himself in a desolate park. He collapsed onto a bench, his head in his hands. The warmth in his chest had subsided, but the strange sensation in his limbs remained. He clenched his fists, and to his horror, his fingers stretched unnaturally long before snapping back into place.

"What the hell am I?"

Before he could spiral further into panic, he heard footsteps—measured, deliberate.

"You're awake," a deep voice said.

Zayn's head shot up. A tall man in a long black coat stood a few feet away, his face obscured by shadows.

"Who are you?" Zayn demanded, rising to his feet.

"A friend. Or an enemy, depending on how you use your new... gift."

"Gift? This isn't a gift—it's a nightmare!" Zayn snapped, his voice echoing through the empty park.

The man stepped closer, and Zayn finally saw his face. He was older, with sharp features and cold blue eyes that seemed to pierce through Zayn.

"My name is Dr. Kael Brannock," the man said, his tone calm but commanding. "And you, Zayn Silas, are no longer ordinary. You've been chosen—though by what or whom, I can't yet say."

Zayn stumbled back, his mind reeling. "How do you know my name? What do you know about me?"

Kael smirked faintly. "I've been watching you. The accident wasn't random—it was a trigger. Whatever lies dormant in your DNA has been awakened. And now... they'll come for you."

"Who?"

Kael's expression darkened. "The Obsidian Accord. They won't stop until they have you—or until you're dead."

Kael handed Zayn a small vial filled with a faintly glowing liquid.

"Drink this. It will suppress the worst of the side effects, for now."

Zayn hesitated but eventually took the vial. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, he felt a rush of clarity. His body relaxed, and the rippling under his skin subsided.

"What did you just give me?"

"A stabilizer. It's temporary, but it should keep your abilities under control until you learn to manage them on your own."

Zayn stared at the man, his fear slowly giving way to anger. "Why should I trust you?"

Kael's gaze softened, just slightly. "Because I've seen what happens to people like you when the Accord gets their hands on them. And because, whether you like it or not, you're part of something much bigger now."

As Kael turned to leave, Zayn called out, "Wait! Where are you going?"

"To prepare. If you want to survive, find me when you're ready to learn the truth."

With that, Kael vanished into the early morning mist, leaving Zayn alone once more.

As the sun rose, Zayn stood in the park, staring at his hands. The world felt alien now, every sound sharper and every shadow deeper. He clenched his fists, determination replacing fear.

He didn't know what he had become, but he knew one thing: whoever "they" were, he wouldn't go down without a fight.

And so, the Shapeless awakens.