Golden Boy

Back in high school, Ethan was my best friend—the bright, unbreakable one. Everyone loved him: teachers, kids, even the janitor. I was just the quiet girl with a useless little trick: I could drain tiny bits of energy from things I touched. Enough to dim a lightbulb or slow a heartbeat for a second. Pathetic next to whatever was waking up inside Ethan. Now he’s Radiant, the city’s number-one hero. Golden hair, perfect smile, light that can heal cities or blind armies. Billboards, parades, the whole world at his feet. I’m Eclipse, official rank number two. The Hero Commission paired us years ago. My “support power” amplifies his—every time he needs a bigger blast, I pour what I can steal from the world straight into him. The crowd cheers louder for him, cameras flash on his face, and I stand just behind his shoulder where I belong. But no one sees what it costs me. Every boost I give him pulls something deeper out of me. My skin has gone pale and thin, veins dark like cracked ink beneath. My hands tremble when I’m alone. The hunger is growing—quiet, patient, endless. It whispers that one day I could take instead of give. Drain him. Drain everything. Ethan still claps me on the back after every mission, eyes shining with that same naive faith. “You’re the reason I can save them all,” he says, grinning like we’re still teenagers. “We’re unstoppable together.” He doesn’t notice how I flinch at his touch now. Doesn’t see the shadows pooling in my eyes when the lights go down. Last night we stopped an invasion. He lit up the sky like a second sun. I fed him everything I had and more—siphoned life from the air itself until my vision tunneled black. When it was over, he hugged me for the cameras. I smiled back, teeth clenched, feeling the void inside me stretch wider. One day soon, the hunger will win. And the world’s perfect hero will finally see what his shadow has become. But by then, it’ll be too late for both of us.