Luminosity - The Beginning - 3. Chapter 3

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‘Control the run, control the run.’ Speed felt good—too good. His body needed it. Faster and faster, the trail blurring. It was like jerking off, that same build-up to a release, but stronger, deeper. As an early teen, he had little else to compare it to, but the sensation was overwhelming, a climax rising within him. Faster, faster, faster—something was happening, something was coming.

**

Henry’s senses exploded, a torrent of heightened awareness that overwhelmed him. The world snapped into sharp relief—distant cliffs along the coast stood out, each jagged edge vivid against the horizon. His body thrummed with the rush of speed, the air’s cool bite, the sun’s warmth, and subtle shifts in pressure brushing his skin. Everything was more—more intense, more alive, and still building. It was like that feeling he’d had before, the raw, pulsing build-up, but magnified, a climax of power surging through every fiber of his being, electric and unstoppable.

Where was he? The trail had vanished. Instinctively, he knew he was on Coastal Highway 1, cutting through Big Sur’s rugged expanse, over a hundred miles from school. The realization crashed over him like a wave. How had he traveled so far, so fast? The ecstasy of the run twisted into terror. His expanded perceptions began to falter, dimming as if squeezed by an unseen force. His vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges, threatening to swallow him whole.

In the distance, through a fogging gaze, he glimpsed a brilliant blue point of light, haloed by blazing orange and yellow, stretching skyward, filling the horizon with an otherworldly glow.

Then, nothing. His consciousness slipped away, plunging into blackness.

Henry opened his eyes. Morning sunlight streamed through a window, warming his face. Was it all a dream? He lay in a bed, a faint weariness lingering in his limbs, but otherwise, he felt fine—better than fine, as if his body hummed with quiet energy. Glancing around, he recognized the school infirmary, its sterile white walls and faint antiseptic scent grounding him in reality. A distinguished older man in a crisp white coat approached, his demeanor calm but professional.

“Hello, Henry. I’m Dr. Schwartz from Stanford Medical Center. Your parents and the school asked me to monitor you until you’re fully recovered.”

“How did I get here?” Henry asked, his voice rough from disuse.

“A classmate carried you to the clinic late yesterday afternoon. Remarkable strength for a boy his size. You’re fortunate he found you.”

Henry sat up, heart pounding. “Who was it?”

“His name’s Tomas. Oddly, he insisted we place you by the window with the blinds up. I saw no harm, so here you are, soaking in the sunlight.”

“Where is he? Is he still here?”

Dr. Schwartz smiled, amused. “I’m not sure. Likely in class or his dorm. He said he’d visit between classes, somehow certain you’d be ready. You were running a dangerously high fever when you arrived—alarming, frankly. I used cold packs, antibiotics, and IV fluids to stabilize you. Tomas claimed none of it was necessary but to proceed if it eased my mind. I should’ve been offended, but his confidence was strangely reassuring. He was right about the IV—you were already hydrated, and the antibiotics hadn’t taken effect before your fever broke.”

Henry leaned back against the pillow, a smile tugging at his lips. Tomas was back. The knot of anxiety in his chest loosened, though a swarm of questions buzzed in his mind. What had happened on that run? How had Tomas found him? “How did my parents take it?” he asked.

“They were distraught, naturally, but they’re calmer now that you’re recovering. They’ve been here all night, just down the hall. Would you like to see them?”

“Yeah, please.”

His mother swept into the room, her warm presence like a lifeline. She cupped his face in her hands, kissing his forehead with a tenderness that made his throat tighten. “I was so worried, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, Mom,” Henry said, managing a small smile. “Tired at first, but better now. Sorry I scared you and Dad.”

His father stepped forward, his stern face softened by concern, though his jaw remained set. “Ready to come home, Sport?”

“Home?” Henry frowned, confusion flickering. “I feel fine—better than fine, actually.”

“This school can’t keep you safe,” his father said, voice firm, edged with frustration. “It’s clear they’re not equipped to handle whatever happened. We need to get you out of here. I’ll call an ambulance if I have to, get you home today.”

“Please, Dad,” Henry pleaded, his voice rising. “I want to stay.”

His father blinked, caught off guard. “I thought you hated this place.”

“We just want you safe,” his mother added, her eyes searching his. “We can hire tutors, convert the old stables into a classroom. It’ll be perfect, sweetheart. You’ll be with us, where we can look after you.”

“No, Mom, Dad,” Henry said, shaking his head. “I need to stay.”

Before they could argue, a knock sounded at the door. Tomas stood at the entrance, his posture polite but assured, waiting to be invited in. Henry’s heart leapt. He scrambled out of bed, rushing to embrace Tomas, who returned the hug with a warmth that steadied him. Shyness hit as Henry realized he was in an open-back hospital gown. Blushing, he fumbled to check he wasn’t exposing himself, backing toward the bed’s covers. His parents chuckled at his flustered modesty, their laughter easing the tension.

Regaining his composure, Henry said, “Tomas, these are my parents, Henry and June. Mom, Dad, this is Tomas. We’re on the cross-country team together.”

“You’re the young man who brought Henry to the infirmary,” June said, her voice thick with gratitude. “Thank you. What happened out there?”

Tomas glanced at Henry, his gaze calm but deliberate. “I was away for a week. When I returned, I went for a run on one of our favorite trails and found Henry by the path. I think the sun got to him—maybe heat exhaustion. I gave him water from my flask and helped him back to campus. Dr. Schwartz took over from there.”

Turning to Henry, Tomas added, “Coach said you weren’t on the assigned trail. Did you get lost?”Catching the subtle cue, Henry nodded. “Yeah, without my running partner, I must’ve taken the wrong trail.”

“I’m back now,” Tomas said, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’ll keep you on track.”

Henry burned to ask what really happened—Big Sur, the light, the blackout—but his parents’ presence held him back. He sensed Tomas’s story was a cover, a way to shield the truth until they could speak alone. Satisfied that Henry was in good hands, his parents prepared to leave for some much-needed rest. June turned to Tomas, her expression warm. “I’m so glad Henry has a friend as responsible as you. When you get some time, come spend a weekend with us in Woodside. We’ll feed you well, and you can swim or ride the horses—they could use the exercise.”

“That sounds wonderful, June,” Tomas replied, his tone genuine.

June kissed Henry’s cheek, his father shook their hands firmly, and they left, their footsteps echoing down the hall. Tomas turned to Henry. “I’ll leave you with the doctor for now. Come by my room when you’re ready to talk.” With a nod, he exited.

Dr. Schwartz conducted a final check-up, his stethoscope cold against Henry’s chest. “You’re remarkably resilient,” he said, scribbling on a chart. “You’re cleared to return to your dorm. Take it easy for a day or two.”

That evening, Henry made his way to the dining hall, the familiar clatter of trays and hum of conversation grounding him. He wasn’t particularly hungry but grabbed a chicken burrito with salsa and a side of tortilla chips, more out of habit than need. Settling at his usual table with the other outcast kids, he noticed something unusual. His classmates, typically averse to prolonged eye contact, kept stealing glances at him. The “ignored kids” prided themselves on their invisibility, yet their eyes lingered.

Catching Cynthia Walsniac’s gaze, Henry raised an eyebrow. “What’s up? Got something in my teeth?”

Cynthia shook her head, studying him. “No, it’s just… you look different. Healthier, better. It’s hard to explain.”

“Huh,” Henry said, a bit thrown. “I guess I feel better. Thanks.”

The comment stuck with him, a quiet confirmation of the change he felt within. Tomas didn’t appear at dinner, and Henry’s eagerness to unravel the mystery of his transformation was tempered by a sudden, overwhelming shyness. Tomas’s confidence, his effortless way of drawing people in, was magnetic. Even Henry’s parents, often skeptical of strangers, had been charmed instantly. Henry felt a pull toward Tomas—admiration, gratitude, and something deeper, a stirring he couldn’t quite name.

After dinner, he walked to Tomas’s dorm, the campus quiet under the evening sky. Standing before the second-floor door, he hesitated, nerves tightening. He knocked, and the door opened almost immediately. Tomas’s warm smile dissolved his tension, inviting him in. The room was small but lived-in, a stark contrast to its emptiness days ago. Henry took the desk chair, Tomas plopping onto the bed, facing him. The moment felt surreal, a continuation of the strange, transformative weeks that had upended Henry’s life.

“I know you have questions,” Tomas said, his voice steady. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know. No secrets between us.”

Henry swallowed, his voice soft. “What’s happening to me?”

“You’re changing. Your body is processing lumin.”

“What’s lumin?”“Energy, abundant around us, especially from stars like the sun. That’s why I insisted on the window with the blinds up—you healed faster in sunlight. Lumin drives your need to run fast, that urge you can’t ignore.”

“Is this happening to anyone else?”

“You’re not alone, but it’s rare here. It happens often on the plains, but not in this world.”

“Plains? Like the Great Plains in the Midwest?”

“No, the plains are… elsewhere. Another realm, hard to explain. It’s dangerous for off-plainers to change without a guide. Without help, you’d have died yesterday, like others before you.”

Henry’s stomach twisted. “You saved me?”

Tomas smiled faintly. “I’ve been nearby since you started changing.”

“Why me?”

“I don’t know why. It’s rare—once every millennium or two. Myths of sun gods and fire heroes with superhuman abilities stem from plainsrunners who changed here without guidance. They don’t survive long.”

“How do we get to the plains?”

“Through a massive expenditure of lumin. It’s perilous, but possible. I came from the plains to guide you. With training, we can go there together.”

“What about my parents?” Henry asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tomas’s gaze softened, heavy with empathy. “You’ll have to say goodbye. You can’t stay here and live.”

The words landed like a blow. Henry turned inward, the thought of leaving his parents—of abandoning his mother’s warmth, her stories of chasing dreams, and even his father’s stern expectations—crushing him. The Woodside mansion, with his mother’s vibrant studio, felt like a world he was being torn from. Tomas sat quietly, his presence a steady anchor, offering space without pressure. After a long silence, Henry looked up, his resolve hardening. “What do I need to do?”

“We run together. I’ll teach you to harness lumin as your body changes.”

“Okay. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow, after classes. The school trails will suffice for now, but we’ll need open spaces later. The cross-country team provides cover.”

Tomas studied him, concern in his gaze. “You okay tonight?”

Henry nodded, though his heart raced at the thought of staying. Tomas’s offer felt like more than mentorship, stirring a shiver of excitement, a flicker of that same intensity he felt running. “I’d better sleep in my room,” he said, standing. “Tomorrow sounds busy.” Tomas nodded politely as Henry left, the door closing softly behind him.

The next afternoon, Henry reached the oval for cross-country practice, the familiar scent of grass and pine grounding him. A “C” teammate spotted him and shouted, “It’s Henry!” The team swarmed, clapping his back, delivering playful slaps, and asking how he was. The warmth caught him off guard, a stark contrast to his usual invisibility among them.

Coach O’Brien, masking relief with his gruff demeanor, couldn’t hide a grin. “Adams, try not to get lost again, you hear?”

“I won’t,” Henry replied. “Tomas’ll keep an eye on me.”

“Tomas?” Coach scoffed. “Haven’t seen that deserter in a week. Thought he dropped out.”

“I’m here, Coach,” Tomas called, jogging across the field. “Sorry, family emergency. Can I rejoin?”

Coach’s grin widened. “Fine, but look after Adams.”

“‘A’ squad, ‘Ridge Trail,’” Coach barked. “Don’t overdo it, Adams. Tomas, stay with him.”

They trailed the pack, the rhythm of their steps syncing. Tomas spoke, his voice low. “You’re safe with me. I can extend my lumin to guide you, like in Big Sur when you blacked out. You’re processing lumin, and soon you’ll erupt.”

“Erupt?”

“When lumin flares, tangible and glowing. It’s a rite of passage, beautiful but dangerous. It takes months on the plains to control, years to master. I’ll guide you, let you feel lumin’s subtleties. Experiment—it’s safe with me.”

They veered onto the state park trail, the air damp with salt from the distant coast. Henry felt Tomas’s gentle guidance, a reassuring force that gave him confidence to explore the lumin within. Some power came from just outside his body, malleable, shifting subtly. Tomas kept it aligned, preventing any misstep. At the trailhead, Henry’s watch showed twenty-eight miles in fifty minutes—a distance that should’ve been impossible.

“‘A’ squad’s finishing the ‘Ridge Trail,’” Tomas said. “We’ll join the back. We run again tomorrow.”

They hacked the running log to match the squad’s route, avoiding Coach’s suspicion. Off the trails, Henry ate with the outcasts, while Tomas mingled with all groups, his charisma bridging Woodside’s rigid cliques. They met in their rooms to plan training, their conversations a mix of strategy and quiet trust. Henry noticed classmates treating him differently—girls and boys approaching with flimsy excuses to talk, their eyes lingering. Were they flirting? The idea seemed absurd, yet it kept happening.

One evening, after a shower, Henry caught a reflection in the dorm’s mirror. Startled, he grabbed a towel to cover up, then realized it was himself. His body had changed—still trim but toned, with defined abs that hadn’t been there before. A stir of excitement hit him, a flicker of pride. He realized he was aroused by his image and smiling, thought , ‘I can take care of that,’ the echo of that raw, climactic rush from the trails lingering in his mind.

Over the next weeks, Henry learned to harness lumin, each run a step deeper into its power. After two weeks, Tomas announced, “Tonight, we run along the California Aqueduct—a hundred miles of open road to train.”

“How do we get there?” Henry asked.

“I’ll absorb you into my lumin’s force, traveling faster, showing you realized luminosity.”

That night, behind the auditorium, they met under the cover of darkness. “Run with me,” Tomas said. Henry felt lumin pulse through him, Tomas’s control a steady anchor. They moved faster, Henry’s senses overwhelmed, like shooting through a tunnel. Tomas glowed yellow-orange, enveloping Henry in a protective aura. A blue glow flashed, and they stood by the aqueduct, its concrete channel snaking into the distance under moonlight.

“You’ve learned much,” Tomas said. “I’ve used less control. Let yourself go—I’m here if you need me.”

Henry ran, Tomas’s presence a quiet reassurance. Lumin poured out, driving him faster. The ecstasy built, that same raw intensity, like a climax teetering on the edge. Doubt crept in, but Tomas’s voice cut through: “Let yourself go.” Henry pushed, lumin pulsing. He erupted, his body glowing, one with the power. Ecstasy overwhelmed him, a release unlike anything he’d known.

Tomas’s lumin embraced him. “Let it go, Henry.” The lumin receded, leaving an afterglow of pride and awe.

They returned to the aqueduct three more times that week. Erupting grew easier, though never as intense as the first. After the fourth trip, Tomas said, “You’re ready. We’ll travel to the plains next week.”

“I need to tell my parents this weekend,” Henry replied, his voice heavy.

“Want me to come?”

“Yes.”

They spent the weekend at Henry’s parents’ Woodside estate, a sprawling property of glass and steel nestled among rolling hills. They swam in the pool, the Bay Area sun bright overhead, and rode horses along the shared trails winding through the ten-acre grounds and neighboring estates. Meals were lavish, the dining room filled with the clink of silverware and the warmth of his mother’s laughter. Yet Henry’s heart was heavy, the looming conversation casting a shadow over every moment.

Sunday evening they met Henry’s parents in the kitchen. Henry poured iced tea from a chilled pitcher, his hands trembling slightly.

Returning the pitcher to the refrigerator, they strolled to the expansive patio, overlooking a pastoral valley framed by gentle wooded hills. The four sat at a wrought-iron table, the air carrying the faint scent of his mother’s herb garden nearby.

“Mom, Dad,” Henry began, his voice shaky, “I have to tell you something.”

His parents leaned in, sensing the weight in his tone, their expressions shifting to concern.

“I have to leave. I’ve been… changing. Tomas is helping me.”

June frowned, her voice gentle. “Sweetheart, it’s normal to change as you grow. If you’re saying you and Tomas are together, we understand. We like him, and we’ll welcome him into our family.”

Henry shook his head, frustration rising. “No, Mom, it’s not that. I’m processing lumin. It makes me run fast—too fast. It’s rare, and if I stay here, I’ll die.”

His parents stared, their concern deepening into fear, as if they suspected the fever had unhinged him, that their son was spiraling into delusion.

Tomas stood, stepping a few paces away from the table. “Henry’s different,” he said calmly. “He processes energy in a way no one else here does.” As he spoke, his body began to glow with a brilliant, translucent blue light, soft yet commanding. “This trait will kill him unless we leave this world.”

Henry’s parents froze, paralyzed by the spectacle. The glow faded, and Tomas stood before them, casually holding the iced-tea pitcher. “Would anyone like a refill?”