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 Storm Bound
By Leonard Petracci
Book 4 of the Places of Power Series
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 Dedication
To my family, friends, and online
community - without them, this would
not be possible.

Poets say science takes away from the

beauty of the stars - mere globs of gas
atoms. I too can see the stars on a desert
night, and feel them. But do I see less or
more?
-Richard Feynman
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For more stories by Leonard Petracci,
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Child will be released, sign up for his
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Recap of Star Child, Negative Film, Titansong, and Forgotten Pages. If
you have not read Forgotten Pages, do so now or read this.

Star Child, Book 1

The story begins as Star Child’s mother gives birth to him on a

space station in secret, granting him the ability to warp space. SC stays

hidden in his early years, knowing that the government would take great
interest in his power, and with it being unregistered, it could result in heavy
punishment. However, his mother is kidnapped, and SC hatches a plan to

find her. Allowing himself to be captured, he attends an academy to hone

his powers under the pretense that he is a Telekinetic and discovers a link
there to his missing mother. But the academy has other plans for him, as

Siri, the headmistress, has powers allowing her to brainwash students

through song, and soon SC loses sight of his mission. With the help of

friends, he overcomes the brainwashing and uses Siri’s powers against her,

luring in The Hunter, father of Arial, to lead to her capture. As the story

closes, Arial and SC share their first kiss, Darian, Slugger, and Lucio move
in with SC in a subway hideout his mother’s power protects, and SC frees

his mother. Deep in the subway, he also discovers that Peregrine, one of

Siri’s cohorts, has started to build a machine that allows for teleportation to

hundreds of end points across the globe.

Negative Film, Book 2

Lola, one of the students from the academy, reunites with SC as the

police hunt for her. They discover that she’s royalty of a tribe in the

Amazon, sent to America as an outreach with her mother. But when her
mother dies, Lola is stranded and left homeless after the academy fails.

Together, SC and the team travel with Lola to the Amazon to stop Lacit, a

new villain with incredible Telekinetic abilities, from harnessing the power

of an age-old weapon in the forest. SC learns from Lola about the other

side, a double world that exists alongside and reacts against his own, one
only accessed by Transients. He learns powers originate from the

interactions of these two worlds, and that her tribe built a weapon of Death

by manipulating this world, one that Lacit now seeks to obtain. Together,

they stop Lacit—but not before meeting Ennia, a Blender attending a secret

university in the Amazon, or the Litious, a hermitage believing all Specials

are heretics and should be killed. One of the Litious saves SC from Lacit

before disappearing, and Darian undergoes Fractonis Essentia, when a

power is strained so much that one’s essence changes fundamentally in

nature. After the death of her grandmother, Lola stays behind with her sister

to rule over the Amazon for centuries to come due to a benefit of their
power, and Darian remains there with them. The team returns home, and

Zeke, their guide in the Amazon, departs as well.

Forgotten Pages, Prequel Story

This story covers the past of Cane, the physical education teacher at

the academy. An enormous man, it’s revealed that Cane’s power is the
manipulation of poison and ability to store it as fat. Generations before he

was born, his family was found by a nameless man who entered their care,

and now it is now Cane’s turn to guard over him. This man holds the secrets

of the world through his power, but with all knowledge he intimately knows

all evil, which poisons his mind. Cane works with him to remove poison

and record the history and secrets of the world, keeping the man young by

removing the poison of age and storing his books in hidden caches around

the world. It’s revealed that this is the man who wrote the Directory, he’s

near immortal, and has little humanity left within him. But Cane constructs

a personality for him, and he becomes Lynns, another teacher at the

academy who instructed SC on his presumed Telekinetic abilities. This

story ends as they apply together for positions at the academy, because they

know that Siri has stolen some of Lynns’ books and that events will soon

occur there that must be recorded into history. Lynns also reveals that he is
a Titan, a Special whose power is so strong that it strips away his humanity,

and mentions that Siri too is affected by this condition to a lesser extent.

Titansong, Book 3

In the third installment of the Places of Power series, SC and team are

notified that a certain type of Special have started to go missing:

SilverTongues, those with the same power as Siri, the ability to control

others through speech and song. They travel to Rome to guard one of the

few remaining SilverTongues, senator’s daughter, movie star, and opera

singer named Francesca, and Lucio tricks her into believing she is dating

SC with false memories. With her father as a senator, SC carefully keeps

watch at her side, soon discovering that Blake too has been tracking this

SilverTongue as well. Meanwhile, Arial discovers that the Litious, a zealot

group of Regulars, are embroiled in the situation- and more importantly,

that they have discovered a method to suppress the powers of Specials.

Arial pretends to join their team, learning this power, and the story

culminates when it is revealed that Francesca’s choir is composed of the

missing SilverTongues, brought together by the Instructors to control

Titan’s in Siri’s absence. Past teacher Lynns teaches SC and team about the

nature of Titans, as well as aiding them in their journey. The Litious

attempt to assassinate Francesca, invoking the rage of her father who is
revealed to be a Titan, and who destroys half of Rome trying to save her.

Francesca is killed in the fallout along with a member of the Litious, though

the titan is neutralized. The team returns home with a sour outlook, as Arial

contemplates leaving through guilt of Francesca’s death.

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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1 SC
Chapter 2 SC
Chapter 3 SC
Chapter 4 SC
Chapter 5 SC
Chapter 6 Lucio
Chapter 7 Lucio
Chapter 8 SC
Chapter 9 SC
Chapter 10 SC
Chapter 11 SC
Chapter 12 SC
Chapter 13 Dieta
Chapter 14 Dieta
Chapter 15 Dieta
Chapter 16 Dieta
Chapter 17 Dieta
Chapter 18 Dieta
Chapter 19 Dieta
Chapter 20 SC
Chapter 21 SC
Chapter 22 Arial
Chapter 23 Arial
Chapter 24 SC
Chapter 25 Lucio
Chapter 26 Lucio
Chapter 27 SC
Chapter 28 SC
Chapter 29 SC
Chapter 30 SC
Chapter 31 SC
Chapter 32 SC
Chapter 33 SC
Chapter 34 Lucio
Chapter 35 Lucio
Chapter 36 Lucio
Chapter 37 Lucio
Chapter 38 Lucio
Chapter 39 Lucio
Chapter 40 Lucio
Chapter 41 SC
Chapter 42 SC
Chapter 43 SC
Chapter 44 Ennia
Chapter 45 SC
Chapter 46 SC
Chapter 47 SC
Chapter 48 SC
Chapter 49 Lucio
Chapter 50 Blake
Chapter 51 SC
Chapter 52 SC
Chapter 53 SC
Chapter 54 Jeannie
Chapter 55 Jeannie
Chapter 56 Jeannie
Chapter 57 Lucio
Chapter 58 Blake
Chapter 59 Lucio
Chapter 60 Lucio
Chapter 61 Lucio
Chapter 62 Arial
Chapter 63 SC
Chapter 64 Lucio
Chapter 65 SC
Chapter 66 Arial
Chapter 67 Arial
Chapter 68 Arial
Chapter 69 SC
Chapter 70 SC
Chapter 71 SC
Chapter 72 Ennia
Chapter 73 Ennia
Chapter 74 Arial
Chapter 75 SC
Chapter 76 SC
Chapter 77 SC
Chapter 78 SC
Chapter 79 SC
Chapter 80 Lucio

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Prologue
Dieta was born an Exterminator.

Her father was born an Exterminator, and his before that. It was a
family business, one reaching back as far as the ancestry tree in the attic

could remember. Of course, Exterminators were common, but none reached

the same variety of power as her family, with the same grade of distance

and control. It was a trade secret, for only her family knew how to access

this particular strain—that once a year, the mists roll down from the
California mountains and into a small valley just north of our town,

carrying with them a specific poison that evaporates off the flower petals
along the cliffs. A typically mild insecticide, one extremely effective when

vaporized. No bugs survive that night, and if a child is born then, just as the
mists reach their heights and the sound of buzzing their lows, then the

power passes on to them.

Dieta's variety lives an easy life—the rich pay high salaries to keep

them on their properties, eliminating any pests from their grounds. And

she'd been in the work force for six years when Mr. Arachne employed her,

offering her a 200 percent raise, higher than any competitor, though he had
two stipulations: First, that she travel an hour outside town to reach his

home, and second, that she never leave the premises without permission.

But 200 percent was low for someone like Arachne—with his own powers,
that of sensing potential future paths down the web of time, he could

certainly afford it. Stock brokers would pay a fortune for those like him,

despite its legality.

It was standard for the rich to want her presence, for that was what

eliminated the pests—as Dieta lounged in a recliner by Arachne's poolside,

her eyes taking in the beautiful scenery of his Napa valley home, she knew

that no mosquito would venture within five hundred feet of her presence.

No living mosquito anyway—it was rare one would make it inside that

range before dropping from the sky, and the toughest only survived to three

hundred feet before their crash landing. It made transportation for her a
problem, as anywhere she traveled, Dieta required an Environmental

Clearance, and could only reach there by helicopter lest she wreak havoc on

the local ecosystems. But for Arachne, the arrangement was perfect—he

owned a vineyard, and Dieta kept the vines clean of any sort of pest, except

those he might desire. That was one of the perks of her Exterminator variety

—that with enough study and focus, she could make exceptions to our

exterminations. Something that no other Exterminators could control.

"Dieta," Mr. Arachne said to her, two weeks into her stay, as Dieta

read a book inside his sun room—one gifted to her that was near a library,

for simply browsing their shelves once a month to clear away their

silverfish. In her contract, Arachne stated that she would not be used for the
same purposes as normal servants, meaning she could relax and read while

on duty. Her powers were all that mattered, and similar to how an

accountant would not be expected to sweep the floors of his business, she

was not expected to do anything beyond that particular passive ability.

"Dieta, I need you to ensure that you are on premises for the Gala this

Saturday. There are several important guests to be in attendance, and I

wouldn't want them to miss your presence."

"Of course," Dieta said with a smile. Like all Exterminators, she was

accustomed to formal events, and had come to enjoy them. Her family was

so famed that they'd even become a talking point over cocktails, and she

had rubbed elbows with people of surprisingly high status. Already, her

thoughts turned to which dress she'd be selecting, and the earrings she

would pair to match. "Per my contract, you can expect me there."

"Wonderful, wonderful," said Arachne with a smile. "And I do

request, no exceptions for any pests for this Gala. I don't want your powers

being called into question. I shan't have them think we are second rate."
"Rest assured, sir," Dieta answered, turning the page, "if I can kill it, I

will."

And she did.

The guests arrived by limousine and were met with glasses of wine

straight from the cellar. Arachne's home was far enough away from the city
that several guests needed the alcohol to eliminate their miffed expressions,

itself an exterminator of negative emotions. Dieta watched from her upstairs

bedroom of the estate as the cars continued to pour forwards, and noticed
that it was always the same drivers—Arachne had a parking lot a mile off-

site, where his own chauffeurs picked up the attendees to ride the rest of the

distance in style. And as she watched, she saw the drivers stop halfway to

the house on occasion, then take a side path down towards a shed on the

edge of the property, depositing what looked like long baggage before

continuing their routes.

She frowned, squinting. It was difficult for her to tell, but several of

those bags looked too long and awkward to be luggage. They looked more

like snowboarding bags, she thought, wondering where their owners might

be, since those cars returned without occupants. But whatever it was, as an

Exterminator, it likely was none of her business—she was here to keep the

pests away, and she surely would.

"Welcome," Arachne said later that evening after the guests arrived,

as they gathered before a wide dinner spread that seemed to be set for too

many, each of them with a glass of champagne, "and know as you dine

tonight, that you are among friends. Only friends, as we discuss the

betterment of this world. Rest assured, if there were any impostors among
us, they have been removed—and there were plenty! I'd like to recognize a
few of you, from Marsha Annalee, with your three-billion-dollar

contribution to the fund. And, Mikhail, your specialization in discovering

youths with incredible powers to better our cause has not gone unnoticed.

Cheers, and be merry tonight, so we may build a better world tomorrow."

Glasses rang together, and Dieta sensed the room relax with his

words, some unknown tension immediately alleviating. Staring around,

Dieta noticed several people smiling at her, raising their glasses in a cheers.

People she had seen on the news, whose faces were as famous as most

cereal brands. People that were now gathered together for some cause, one

she knew little about.

People whose bodies looked all too similar in size and shape to the

luggage in the shed.

***

The weeks passed by slowly at Arachne’s estate, but slow was good

for an Exterminator. It meant that no pests had somehow escaped her

notice, being somehow shielded from her power to later be discovered by a

guest. It was rare, but not unheard of, for such occurrences—and though the

pests died instantly on exposure, was still considered unacceptable to the

employers. Early in her career, it had happened to Dieta once—her client

had ordered a refrigerator, which had a roach infestation on the inside. The

combination of the metal box, the packing materials, and her distance from
them meant that they had not been discovered until one fateful night when

she was off the premises on leave. The roaches had been almost dead, but

were still living, which had nearly cost her the job.

But when the estate was active, it seemed to wake up from a slumber.

There were more galas, and dinners, all with Dieta in attendance. And all

with important guests that Dieta was starting to know on the surface level,

billionaires that smiled and waved as she passed, musicians that promised

to add her into their next album. Each seemed so grateful to her, so excited

to be in her presence – but Dieta was so used to the eccentricities of the

ultra-rich that it came as little surprise to her that they would find such

fascination in a bug squasher.

“They take to you because you’re the best,” said Lee, sipping on a

martini and leaning against the back wall of the room. It was at the end of

her third gala, the attendees slowly trickling up to their rooms or back out

into the night. Arachne was at the head table, speaking in earnest to several

of the more notorious guests, a smile forming across his face, waving down

a servant to bring another round of drinks before his guests had a chance to

ask. Of course, he’d known that they were on the verge of asking, and being
around Arachne had the simultaneous effect of extreme warmth and a

sensation as if you were being watched.

 “You’re like a fine wine,” Lee continued. “For the rich, they want the

best. You could convince them that toilet paper that they used was imported

due to the extreme fiber count of some tree in Africa, and they would

discuss it for hours. But give them anything second rate—second rate to

them, mind you, likely the pinnacle of anything we would experience—and

they’ll immediately turn up their noses. Hell, it doesn’t even have to

actually be second rate; you just have to convince them that it is.”

Dieta scrunched her nose as she looked to Lee, watching him down
his entire martini in a single gulp, then motion for another. He had a few

years on her, grey just starting to touch the tips of his hair, and a smirk that
reached permanence on his face from years of use.

“Maybe they’re just attracted to my charming personality,” she

countered, and he snorted. Like her, Lee was in Arachne’s employ, and

knew the second he stopped being of use, he would be out of it.

“I know, because it’s my job to give them the best,” he said, spinning

the empty martini glass by the stem and studying it for flaws. “Arachne
brought me on because I’m an Amplifier. Ever heard of us?”

Dieta shook her head, and he continued, the words slightly slurred
from the accumulation of drinks.
“Thought not. We’re rare, exceedingly rare. Not many can afford my

services, let alone my services and an Exterminator. Alone, I’m useless—

but in combination with other powers, I can make them stronger. Take
Arachne over there; alone, he can see the whips of potential realities

extending away into the future. But with me, those whips become tangible,
solid. I’m like reading spectacles for the man.”

“So he keeps you as a crutch, then? Seems a waste he’d have you
around all the time,” Dieta responded. “Could get by a lot cheaper if you

were on call.”
“Maybe they’re just attracted to my charming personality,” he said
with a flash of a grin. “But no, if I was here just for Arachne, you’d be right.

But I’m here for his chefs, for his security, for anyone else that’s Special
and can use a boost. Like I said, I make others into the best. That’s what I’m

the very best at.”

Dieta opened her mouth to respond, but then saw Arachne waving her

down to his table, speaking with a man with a thick mustache that weighed
down his words as much as his accent.

“Dieta!” Arachne said with a smile, adding before she could speak,
“No, no, don’t apologize, you weren’t keeping us waiting. Dieta, this is the

projected winner for this year’s political election in Rome—to be their new
senator. I thought it would be wise for you two to meet.”

***
 Dieta frowned, looking down at the single cockroach that wriggled on
the table before her, its six legs twitching as it tried to scurry away. The

twitches came sporadically, disjointed, like a seizure rather than coordinated

motion. Instead, the roach spun in a slow circle, while her power slowly

smothered it from above.

But that wasn’t how her power worked. That roach should be dead.

Not half alive, not sick—dead, long before she should be able to see it.
“I wouldn’t worry much,” said Lee, holding his palm to his head, his

face scrunched in regret from the martinis the night before. She’d found
him in the kitchen, already running the coffee machine before she had a

chance to boot it up, the rest of the estate quiet at this hour. The guests had
cleared out the night before; the other servants were busy cleaning after the

mess they left behind, and Arachne spent his mornings confined to his
study. The only other soul in their presence was the roach, which threatened

her position and reputation.

“Maybe it’s the hangover,” she said, though she had only downed two
martinis compared to Lee’s eight.

“Ah, it’s not you, lovely, it’s me,” said Lee, pouring the steaming
coffee into two cups, pouring enough cream into his that he could down it

immediately despite the heat. “I told you I’m an Amplifier—my presence

disrupts your powers, distorts them. It’s the same for everyone. Certain
aspects grow stronger, while others are weaker. It’s less uniform. Your

range is probably increased, but maybe your potency has gone down. No
worries, however. Look, he’s dead; it just took a few minutes longer.”

Dieta glanced down to see he was correct, that the roach had stopped
all movement. With the back of her hand, she flicked it into the waste bin in

disgust, speaking to Lee as she checked the rest of the kitchen for signs of
unwanted pest life.
“Can you control it, then? What parts you enhance?”

“Completely passive,” he said, raising his hands, and resumed his

normal slouch against the wall. “Means I can get blasted drunk and it

doesn't matter—hell, might as well put me in a coma. You could say it’s the
laziest profession out there. Except, maybe, for your own.”

“I suppose so,” Dieta answered, the roach in the bin still pulling at her
attention, refusing to let her settle. Her thought flicked back to last night,

how Arachne had taken the time to introduce her to each of his
acquaintances, men and women far above her stature. For a passive servant,

that seemed beyond what would be appropriate. And as she ruminated,

Arachne himself appeared in the doorway, startling her enough to spill her

coffee on the table.

“I trust you’re both well rested,” he said, casting a suspicious eye

towards Lee, who was already on his third cup of coffee and second cup of
water, and starting to eye up the whiskey cabinet across the room, “and

enjoyed your night. Dieta, should you have a moment, can I see you in my
study?”

“Of course,” she answered, knowing it was more of a command than

a request. Arachne departed, and after sharing a glance with Lee, she rushed

to her quarters, taking a quick shower and dressing for the day before
climbing the stairs to Arachne’s study. She’d never entered, only seeing the

door from the outside, as well as the glass dome of the solarium when she
first entered the grounds.

But the inside was breathtaking.

The glass dome afforded a full 360-degree view of the surrounding

countryside, with vineyards stretching away in front of her and mountains

to her back. Sliding ladders covered the inside, each reaching different

heights of the twenty-foot peak. Gold paint covered the glass, in branching
lines and text descending like a waterfall, shining bright in the sun.
“Welcome!” said Arachne as he completed a line with gold-tipped

brush halfway up the dome, then climbed down from the ladder. “It’s time, I
believe, for you to understand our purpose here. After all, your

understanding is crucial to your role.”

“It is?” she asked, thinking back to the twitching bug and praying he

had not found another this morning.

 “Why, of course,” he said, then gestured to the dome. “You see, Dieta,
you are the protector of this! You keep out the pests that would destroy it, or

would corrupt it.”

Dieta cocked her head, looking towards the gold lines, trying to recall
if she knew any insect that would consume the paint.

“I think you’re taking a very conservative approach,” she said,

squinting.

“Not at all. Not at all. Dieta, my power lets me see the future. See that
point at the crux of this dome, the very top? That is the present. Every line

coming down from there is a potential future, a different branching, a new

series of events. That’s why I brought Lee—because with him, I can see the

outcome of more possibilities, I can trace them farther down the glass.”
“Possibilities for what?” she asked, and he gestured around the

expanse.
“For our world, Dieta,” he said. “You see, I can sense all possibilities,

good and bad. I can see individuals of great power, ones born and unborn. I
have their names, their roles to play. And I intend to use them to bring about

a new world, a better world. I shall bring them together, to harness them for
good. But there are those aware of my plans, those who would use them for

nefarious purposes. And that’s why you are so important. That’s why I need
you on my side. Should you ever disagree with my motives, you must let
me know immediately.”

“And why is that?” she asked, eyes tracing along the top of the dome,
where she saw her own name written on the glass.

“Because those people who would corrupt the future are pests, Dieta.
With Lee’s help, so long as you think of them as such, your power keeps

them away. That’s why you are here—to preserve the integrity of the future.
For we gather great power. And I’d shiver to think that power would enter

the wrong hands.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 1 SC
Darkness descended upon the university, forming the time after

dinner but before the beginnings of night life when the streets turned still. A
few lone students flitted between dorms, and in the distance, the cheers of

intramural sports flared. The perpetual lights of the library burned bright
near campus center, a beacon to those with the upcoming midterms, and

two blocks to the right of it, the doors of a brick building opened to release

a trail of weathered undergrads.

Eight PM marked the end of the final class on campus, the physics

lab, situated just beneath the small observatory donated twenty years prior.
But not just any physics lab—this one belonged to Dr. Kwan Thomson,

who had taught at MidTech university so long that some of the students’
parents still woke up sweating in the middle of the night about his

apocalyptic tests. On campus, he was a legend, known for his purple

walking cane and Starry Night backpack, which wove a path that

disregarded all sidewalks from his old pickup truck to the observatory door

every morning and evening. Never deviating, so that the grass browned

under years of his careful treading, though no one else followed his
footsteps.

Kwan’s classes enforced a curve so strict that the last person to

receive a natural A was said to head the space program, and that over forty
percent of his students dropped his class as soon as they discovered he

would be instructing. But despite his difficulty, the university kept Kwan

around for two reasons. One, that the students that survived his class were

the best in their field, and that despite his difficulty, his lessons were the

most engaging to be found on campus. And second, for his research papers,
studying deep space from his observatory and speculating about the

mysteries of the universe.

But for every dozen students that left Kwan’s class, two others slipped

in, taking advantage of the open door before it slid shut and auto-locked.

They crept down the tiled hallway, passing lecture halls and offices,
checking in each of the doors until they arrived at 1104, Kwan’s lab.

The professor watched from his desk as his attendants completed the

lab cleanup, checking that students had properly powered off lasers and

prisms, and that the stock materials were returned to their correct positions.

He squinted, the blue light of his computer screen reflecting off his

spectacles, and pecked at the keyboard one index finger at a time. Neither

he nor his attendants noticed the pair at the door, an albino girl and dark-
haired boy, a few years shy of attending the university themselves. Until the

boy rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, drawing Kwan’s attention

upwards, his gaze as sharp as his most powerful lasers.

 “I shan’t be changing any test scores,” he said, disregarding them

after only a moment to resume his staccato typing. “I do not care if your

mother, father, boyfriend, counselor, or the Queen of England herself calls

me. In physics, we understand cause and effect. And the cause of your

scores is your studying. F is for final, should you find it at the top of your

paper.”
“We didn’t come for that, sir,” said the boy with black hair, stepping

forwards into the classroom. “We were wondering—”

“No make-up labs either!” Kwan snapped. “If I am still alive, then

there hasn’t been a disaster of large enough scale to warrant one.”

“Neither is that our request,” the girl responded. “Rather, we were

hoping to ask you some questions on your work.”

“You’ve missed office hours. If you have inquiries regarding

coursework, both Dimitri and Anton will be there for you during that time.”

He indicated the attendants, which had stopped cleaning momentarily and

were watching the two approach.

“We were hoping we could ask you. We’ve travelled quite a long

way,” said the boy.

Kwan harrumphed, “Quite a long way! I’ll tell you, boy, the walk

from north campus is only a stretch, that hardly qualifies as quite a long

way. Quite a long way means lightyears, not miles!”

 “We are from across the country. But we came to ask you about this,

which should interest you,” the boy said, then extended his hand flat in

front of him. In his palm, a darkness swirled into being, twisting around as
it popped into existence from just above his wrist. But it was more than

simple darkness—it was a blackness that pulled in the light from around it,

that distorted the edges of the boy’s face, elongating his nose and flaring his

ears out like an elephant’s. Slowly, it drifted forwards into the gap between

him and the professor, coming to rest at the center of the classroom, just

above a table of lab equipment. The professor’s key taps slowed to a stop as

he looked upwards, his glasses sliding to the end of his nose, his face

turning as white as the orb was dark.

For a moment, all was silent, the lab attendants still, the room

waiting. Then his voice came in a whisper, the words harsh, the tone cold.

“Get out,” Kwan said, frozen. “Out. I’ve told you before, I want

nothing to do with this. With any of you. Now leave, before I call security.

Or the police.”

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Chapter 2 SC
I froze, the orb still hovering in midair, Ennia crossing her arms by

my side. Kwan’s stare gained intensity, and I spoke before it reached a

breaking point.

“This is the first time we’ve been here, I don’t know what—”
“The first time you’ve been here, sure!” Kwan snapped, rising to his

feet. “But don’t you try these tricks on me. I can read you like a book.” He

pressed a finger down on the tome on his desk, one thicker than my fist, and
smoke started to curl out from between the pages. It twisted up towards the

ceiling before darting away at an angle, directly into a vent installed into the
wall as he continued. “I wanted no part of the program back then, and I

certainly don’t now. I refused responsibility before you were born and now
it’s not my problem that you have grown into a problem beyond control.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, pulling the dark orb
back towards me. “I was recommended to come here in order to understand

my power.”

“Of course you were,” he huffed. “And if I take you in, how about the

others? No thank you. As I said, cause and effect. This should not have been
meddled with, I advised them not to, and it’s not my problem, neither now

nor then. Now leave.”

 Beneath his finger, the book had nearly caught fire as dark smoke

poured from the pages, and I turned to look at Ennia.

“We are simply bystanders in pursuit of knowledge,” Ennia stated in

protest, “as any astute student would be.”

But Kwan refused to budge, and we backed away through the door,
entering into the hallway. Darkness had completely fallen outside, and even

the burning streetlights looked dim as we left him behind.

“All that way for nothing,” I muttered, scuffing my shoe against the

ground. It had taken me two weeks to discover a path from Peregrine’s

portal nearby, to the center of a forest still recovering from a fire, then
another two hours on a bus to make it to the university. We’d completed the

trip twice—first arriving after classes had departed for a weeklong break in

the schedule, then again after discovering the late night lab.

“There are more professors,” said Ennia. “The beauty of knowledge is

that it can be shared. We simply need to look up his degree, then target

another.”

“And what the Hell was that about anyway?” I asked “Have you ever
seen him before? He practically recognized us.”

“He recognized you, or what you can do,” she said as we exited the

building, passing a group of students hunched over books on the picnic

tables outside.
 “And who from our department wouldn’t?” came a voice from behind

us, and I jumped, wheeling around to face one of Kwan’s attendants. He

was thin, his face long and wrists small enough they looked like they would

snap, his hair unkept and swept to one side. He still wore his safety glasses

from the lab, and above them, two dark eyebrows peeked out, accenting a

pointed brow.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded, casting a look over at

the tables nearby. But the students there were all wearing earbuds, and not

one looked up from their studies.

“It means that, when you bring theoretical physics into the theoretical

physics building, people tend to take notice. Especially Kwan. He prefers to

live in his books, so reality can frighten him a bit. Anyway, I’m Anton.”

He extended a hand, and I hesitated for a moment before shaking it,

the skin dry like paper and fingers fragile.

“Looks like he prefers to burn them.” I responded, and Anton smiled.

“Ah, in the same way that we burn our lives away. You see, Kwan is a
Knowledge Collector—he was experiencing that book, one he asked me to

fetch for him from the store. That’s the drawback of collectors, however,

that they actually take the knowledge. By reading it, he destroyed it.”

“You’re saying that he read that entire book while we stood there?”

asked Ennia, her eyes widening.

 “Oh no, not the entire book.” Anton laughed. “Probably just half. That

one was more complicated, full of theorems and math, so they take longer

than something like a storybook. When he gets in the mood for science
fiction, those go up like matchsticks.”

“Which is interesting,” I said, glancing back towards the building.

“But for all his knowledge, he turned us away. It sounds like he can’t be of

use to us.”

“Maybe he can’t,” said Anton, “but maybe I can. As a research

assistant, I’m driven by curiosity. And let’s just say your power has mine

piqued. Maybe you can share your story with me, and then I can share what

I know. Here—come with me; I know a place where we can talk.”

I paused, glancing at Ennia, who also hesitated. Then Anton spoke

again, his voice placating.

“Of course you don’t have to. But Kwan likes his whiskey. After three

or four glasses, he starts talking about those experiments all those years

ago. And should it be my fault if my curiosity prompted him to keep

speaking? I’d say as a student, it would be my duty.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 3 SC
Anton led us across campus, taking shortcuts through buildings and

green patches that only an accustomed student would know, leaving the
observatory and lab to fade behind us.

“I’d drive you, but I can’t afford a car at this time,” he mentioned,
indicating the backpack he wore that had nearly been reduced to threads.

“Nothing that would survive the winter anyway. Student salaries don’t

stretch far, I’m afraid.”

“Sounds like an unpaid internship,” said Ennia, her voice practically

bordering on accusation that I brushed aside.

“I’m sure the experience is worth it,” I said, more as a jab to her than

to him. We rounded a corner to a dormitory building flanked by parking

lots. Anton produced a key, the door squeaking and catching as he opened

it, then we turned down the first hallway to emerge into a small gym. The
equipment here had rusted, the entire room smelling strong of mildew, and

stains covered the concrete floor.

“My roommate is home, so this will have to do. We won’t be bothered

here—a few weeks back, a pipe burst and flooded this room, and the faculty
is in the process of replacing the equipment. Won’t go through until the next

quarter, though, as that’s the time to add it to the budget.”

 “For a university, everything here seems pretty old,” I said, and Anton

nodded.

“Most the money goes to research and such, which is why I’m here,

so I can’t complain. Anyway, back to our discussion—your ability; can I

have another demonstration?”

He whipped out a small speckled notepad, along with pen from his

shirt pocket, and stared intently through his glasses. I hesitated, glancing

down at the paper poised for notes.

“How about you tell us what you know, then we’ll give you a

demonstration,” I answered, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Ah, the suspicious sort, I see,” he said. “But that’s fine by me; a

standard exchange of information should go nicely. Now, where to begin?

As I said, Kwan loves his whiskey—usually, he’ll only talk about how one

professor or another received an unfair grant, or about how an intern is

slacking off. The typical complaints of a man too aware of his surroundings.

But sometimes, we get him to talk about the old days. The days before he

started teaching here and was still fresh out of school.”

Anton sat on a bench station as he spoke, crossing his legs and

tapping his fingers on his kneecaps, likely the longest he had spent on

exercise equipment that semester. Ennia and I still stood, listening, all too
aware of how small the room was and how, scrawny though he might be,

we still did not know Anton’s power.

“Anyway, Kwan was quite the character in his youth. Even more

eccentric back then than now. Always had the best stories, kept the room at

attention. Used to live in some real seedy neighborhoods and you wouldn’t

believe the ways he booby-trapped his own backyard with physics.

Electrified his handrails, had kinetic energy traps—all absolutely insane. If

the police had known, he’d probably still be in jail. But the stories he only

tells when he’s really drunk are about his year working as a space

contractor for some shady company out west.”

“In space?” I asked, my heart fluttering. How old was Kwan? I’d

been born in space, and Kwan was old enough to have been in the program.

Not just in the program, but he could have known my mother. And if he

knew my mother, Kwan could be, could be—

“No,” said Anton, cutting off my thought process. “Terrible fear of

heights; you’d be lucky to get him up on a bridge, let alone up in the air. An
ironic fear for someone whose life work sent others higher than any before.

They kept him on the ground, used him as an expert from afar. Until, that is,

he stopped working with them.

“Kwan was all about getting people up in space. That enthralled him,

the idea of setting up an ecosystem, what he called his island under the sun.
He was all about building it, creating. Apparently, he personally designed

the fight correction system, then supervised a group of interns that came up

with the initial designs for the ventilation system. Evidently, he fired one
himself when they left a dead space in an entire section of the ship that

would create a carbon dioxide build-up that would endanger the flight crew.

“But once they were in the air, and his contract expired, the program

sought something else from him. They wanted him, but he refused. They

said they had something for him to study, a new phenomenon. Something

not seen until this point. Something that guaranteed his name in the

scientific textbooks, a way to emulate deep space in the confines of the

station.

“They wanted him to make containment vessels for these discoveries.

Ways to keep them from spilling into the rest of the ship, endangering the

other inhabitants. A space station is very fragile, you understand—like an

egg that can be cracked from the inside or out, and even the smallest

puncture means death. So Kwan started their designs, started building out

these vessels to contain experiments. But he noticed his work was being

augmented.

“That plumbing was being added to the vessels, along with tubes for

meals to be delivered, and ventilation to circulate in fresh oxygen. And

Kwan realized that these vessels were not for inanimate experiments—no,
there had been children born on the station. Children they had to contain.

Children that they wanted to use for their powers, ones never before seen,

with effects that could be disastrous.

“Just a month before, one of the nuclear reactors had broken open,

killing ten on that side of the ship and rendering it unusable. But Kwan

investigated the machine code, and found no errors. That the machine was

still functional. Something else, someone else, had killed those people. And

through the live feed, he could see two of them with radiation sickness in

the medical bay. Powers like that don’t exist on earth. Even those born near

nuclear sites release only alpha or beta radiation—this would have to be

gamma.

“What they were developing up there was weapons. And I’m

assuming that’s what you are, or were. A weapon.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 4 SC
“So there are more like me,” I breathed as Anton finished, and he cast

me a curious eye.
“Well, of course,” he said, the bench creaking under him as he shifted

his weight. “You didn’t think you were the only one, did you? Launching an
entire space station for a single birth seems a bit of a waste, no?”

“I was something of an unintended consequence,” I explained. “I

wasn’t a part of the program. As far as I know, they don’t actually know I
exist.”

“Now that’s interesting,” said Anton, stroking his chin. “So what
brought you here to see Kwan, then, if not for the program’s history?”

“This,” I said, holding out my hand as a dark orb sprang into

existence. Despite having seen it before, Anton’s eyes widened and he

leaned forwards, extending a finger.

“Don’t touch it! Aren’t you supposed to be a physicist?” I warned,

and he snapped his hand back.

“Of course, but of course, that would be one painful way to clip my

nails.”
“Right. And the reason we came is to learn more about it and what it

can do. We recently learned that others have possessed this power in the

past, and they utilized it in more interesting ways than I have been. We were
hoping Kwan could help explain it more, or at least what it could

potentially do.”

Anton laughed, throwing up his hands. “Oh, you wouldn’t need him

to tell you that! That’s like hiring a Nobel prize winner to do lab rat work!

You could get just as much sound advice elsewhere.”

“Then where else would you recommend?” Ennia asked. “The

occurrence rate of professors back home is dismal.”

“For starters, myself,” Anton said, puffing out what little of a chest he

had. “Since I’m a graduate student, I have access to the libraries to pull any

additional information you might need. I can tell you right now that’s a
miniature black hole, which is about the least interesting thing about what

you’re doing, and also incredibly dangerous.”

“Least interesting?” I asked and leaned forwards. “What do you mean

by that?”

“I’m operating under the assumption that you’re creating that through

spatial distortion. There’s no way that you’re packing enough actual mass

in there to create a real black hole, and if you were, then none of us would
be alive right now. But black holes are just one of the many things you can

do with spatial manipulation. Time dilation, gravitational waves, even

wormholes—you might not be able to actually do these things, but they are

possible in physics.”
 “You’ll be able to teach him how to do these things?” asked Ennia. “I

wouldn’t have thought he’d be able to bend enough space for some of those

effects.”

“Well, I can teach him the theory and the math,” said Anton, his hand

absentmindedly brushing the calculator in his front pocket. “Actually

making it happen will be up to him.”

“And what do you want in return?” I asked, suspicious. “We can’t pay

you.”

“To study,” Anton said. “Study you, that is. And to use you for

creating some lab conditions. You see, what you can reproduce doesn’t

happen naturally on earth. We can only view such anomalies from far away

and make inferences about them. Try to recreate similar conditions. But

with you here, I can study them directly. So, in essence, I simply require

your time.”

“No one knows who I am, then,” I said. “That’s my condition. Not in

your papers, not among your colleagues.”

“Of course,” said Anton with a smile. “Your anonymity is important,

and we’ll keep it that way. Now, I’m going to need you to tell me

everything you can do with your power. Even if it sounds weak or

unimportant, I need all the details.”

 “Before we start,” I said. “Those other kids born on the station, do

you know who they are? Or where I can find them?”

“I don’t, but Kwan does. I think your best chances are to look into the
company that owned the program. I can find that for you, maybe the name

of an employee or two, and that should set you on the right track. But it

won’t be free—I’ll want more of your time.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 5 SC
Anton settled for an I Owe You note.

“I’m not willing to pass on an opportunity like this, but I’m booked
solid the next two weeks,” he said. “We have ongoing experiments that I

can’t let sit idle, as no one else can operate the equipment, and Kwan will
fire me in less than a femtosecond if I leave. Besides, I still need to extract

your information from him.”

“Information first,” I said. “Then we can return. That will give us

time to check it, as well as start investigating. It’s a long journey, though, so

you’re going to have to send it to us.”

“That’s a deal, but I’ll need some collateral. Can’t have you just

running off on me after you have your data.”

“Going to have to trust us, then. I don’t see what we can give,” I said,

and Anton frowned. But Ennia held up a hand, then rummaged through her
backpack, pulling out a small notebook that she placed on the table.

“This is my diary,” said Ennia, flashing through the pages. “It has our

names, our location, more than enough information to track us down if you

so desired. How’s that for collateral?”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “We don’t know who could get ahold of that,

or if he’ll read it while we’re gone.”

 “I can promise not to read it unless you don’t return, but then you’re

just trusting me,” said Anton. “And we’re back to circular math.”

“Not if there’s anything I can do about it,” Ennia proclaimed.

“Because I have an idea. Anton, we’re going to need you to show us to the

nearest art store. I’m going to need some supplies.”

A half hour later, we returned back to the weight room, Ennia

carrying a bag filled with tubes of paint, brushes, craft paper, and glue. She

spread the paper out over the floor, then put the diary in the middle while

pouring some paint onto a paper plate next to it. It was dark and glossy,

viscous enough that just a thin coat would completely obscure anything
underneath.

“Now, feel free to watch, but from the other side of the room. I don’t

want you reading this,” declared Ennia, and cracked open the book to the

first page, which contained only a sketch. Anton stepped away before

against a rusted weight rack, and Ennia turned her gaze towards me.

“Both of you,” she said, gesturing with the brush. “This is my diary,

after all. I don’t want you reading it either, SC. And to be clear, this is
collateral. You don’t read a word unless we break our promise. If you do,

deal’s off.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” said Anton. “Besides, it would be useless to me—if

you return, I would already have your names.”

 Based on the creations I had seen from Ennia, I doubted that

statement. Anton had no way of knowing, but this was the girl who spent

her free time designing new variations of hearts and flying tigers, then

actually built them. And that was only the half of it—some of her creations

were half living, Frankenstein-esque contraptions controlled by her like a

puppet master. As a Blender, Ennia could convert material’s essence, and

she made heavy use fresh of tendons and muscles to bend inanimate objects

to her will.

But now, Ennia dipped the brush in the ink, then completely covered

the sketch on the first page. She turned to the next, running her palm along

the dry side, smearing the paint like sandwich filling in between. The pages

stuck together, and as the paint dried, it would become inseparable. She

repeated the process, flipping to the next page, then the next, blotting out

her entire work while simultaneously sticking the book together.

“If this is some sort of trick, I’d consider it outside the spirit of the

deal if I can’t actually read your names,” said Anton. “By that logic, I’ll
speak your information to you in Chinese or my own made-up language.”

“Not a trick,” said Ennia as she finished and held up the mass of

gooey pages, paint dripping out from between each as she gave the book a

squeeze. Then she unstopped the glue bottle and ran a heavy stream along

the page edges, completely sealing them together. “You’re lucky I only
write things down so I can remember them. I don’t really need to read them

again afterwards. Taking notes just helps me, so this is useless to me now,

since everything in here is finished. Now, we just let this dry, and it’s all
yours!”

“And what, exactly, do you expect me to do with it?” Anton asked as

Ennia started to roll up the craft paper now stained with globs of paint and

glue.

“To start, the number you can reach us at is on the back; we only

monitor the phone at exactly midnight. And I don’t expect you to do

anything else with my diary, since we’ll return after you call us,” she said.

“But should we fail—well, you might not be able to read this. But Kwan’s

power will, though it would destroy it as well. So long as I get that book

back in one piece and unburned, then we comply to your terms. And if we

break the deal, I’m sure you could convince him to tell you the name of

someone between the pages.”

Anton’s face cracked into a smile, but then he shook his head. “I don’t

know, Kwan probably wouldn’t read it now that he knows who you are.”

“Then don’t tell him it’s from us. Tell him it’s from someone else

after one of his research grants, or that there’s something valuable inside

that someone is desperately trying to hide. You’re a student; be creative.

And if all else fails, like you said, the man likes his alcohol solutions. I’m

sure you could titrate one.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 6 Lucio
Lucio had never watched more of the weather channel in his life, and

found himself wishing he could alter his own memories of the last two
hours.

“Boring highs in the Midwest,” he chanted, mimicking the reporter as

she waved her hand over a red section of the map. “And boring lows here,

down here in the subway!”

He yelled that last line, letting his voice bounce around the walls,
nothing to keep him company besides the repeating television. There was

no one there to hear him—SC’s mother was running errands, with Slugger
to help her carry anything she bought. SC and Ennia had traveled to the

university, and apparently, since she was experienced in universities, she

got to tag along, though in his opinion, a jungle-based university shouldn’t

count. Lilac had been fun to pet, but Ennia had returned her to the Amazon
after repairing the damage from the last battle. And Arial—well, Arial had

been busy ever since they had arrived back from Rome. He hadn’t seen her

since.

And that meant he was stuck with news duty, searching for anomalies.
After arriving back from Rome, SC had dedicated his time to

discovering as many locations as possible through Peregrine’s tunnels,

marking them each on a map along with the directions to reach them.
 “With enough coverage, we could be anywhere else in the world in

just a few hours,” SC had said as the pins started filling up the countries.

“So long as it’s on land, and we have means of transport,” added

Ennia.

“Which is why we need to be ready. At the first sign of a Titan, it’s

through the portal. Each of us should have bags with essentials ready, just in

case. Keep them light, but some changes of clothes, a few days of food, and

some bottled water. That way, we can leave through Peregrine’s portal at a

moment’s notice, and intervene before things get out of hand.”

“If we hear about it, then things have gotten out of hand,” stated
Ennia.

“Then we are damage control. That’s the best we can do.”

So now Lucio flicked back and forth between all the worst channels,

searching for anything outside the ordinary. There was the finance channel,

filled with dollar signs and arrows, which Lucio had mainly learned to

ignore as everything there was either gibberish or a dire emergency, or both.

Next was the news, which covered so much, he had no idea what to
separate out—according to SC, a Titan could be any sort of anomaly. And

that was the nature of the news, anomalies. After all, it was called the news,

not the olds.

 But weather—well, if the last Titan was anything to judge by, Lucio

would certainly see it in the weather. And they’d already had two

emergencies.

“Cuba!” Lucio had shouted three weeks before, shaking SC awake

in as he napped in the afternoon. “There’s an enormous hurricane right

above it, haven’t heard anything about it until today! Appeared out of
nowhere on the news; it’s the number one issue.”

“Let’s move,” SC had said, rolling out of bed, his pack already in

his hand. In less than five minutes, Slugger and Ennia were ready to go,

waiting by the portal door. With SC’s help, they bounded through,

following the directions SC had scrawled on a map for the portal to an

abandoned military base, stepping out into a concrete jungle surrounded by

barbed wire and blocky grey buildings.

“Must be in the eye, eh?” said Slugger, gesturing upwards to blue

sky. On the horizon, deep purple clouds approached and palm trees

billowed beneath, bending under the hand of the wind.

“If this is the eye, it’s going to be huge,” breathed Ennia. “And I bet

you if there is a Titan, he’ll be right at the center of it. We could stop him

before there is any damage!”

They broke off at a run, stopping every few minutes to judge the

best direction, searching for cars or bikes that could increase their travel
speed. The hurricane would be moving quicker than them, which meant we

wouldn’t have much time—even with the Titan removed, its remnants

would be enough to scour the island. And after a mile, they spotted an old
man sitting on a rocking chair on his porch, strumming his fingers along a

guitar as he looked out into the approaching menace. His chords came

melancholy and slow, and we paused, catching his eye.

“Must think it’s the last song he’ll ever play,” murmured Ennia, her

voice somber as SC straightened up. A rusty truck sat in his driveway, and

with the right words, he might be able to acquire it.

“Aren’t you afraid of the storm?” SC shouted as the man looked

down the brim of his straw hat. He chewed on something, spitting it out to

the side, and wiping the corner of his mouth on his sleeve.

“Not from around here, are ya?” the man asked, his voice heavily

accented. “Just another storm, coming to try to take my house. Hasn’t

worked before, won’t work now.”

“This one is supposed to be worse than any before,” SC said. “If you

want, we can help you evacuate. Drive you in that truck right there to

safety.”

The old man snorted, and his rocking grew deeper as he sank in his

chair.
 “Never left before, never leaving now. Don’t scare me none. Don’t

you even try lootin my truck.”

“It’ll take more than your house; it’ll take your life!” said SC,

practically pleading. “We can get you out of here!”

“My life? Boy, this here is a class one. I won’t even be losin my

whiskers.”

“A class one?” SC asked, pausing, and cocked his head.

“Yup. Class one. Nothin below a three disturbs my sleep.”

And behind SC, Slugger sighed, turning to Lucio and slapping him

on the side of the head. Lucio turned to retaliate, his own hand poised,
bickering back at him first.

“What was that for? I told you it was serious! A number one!”

“The scale goes up, not down, you idiot. Five’s the worst; one’s the

best. Now, SC, take us home. I’m ready to go back to my nap.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 7 Lucio
The second Titan appearance had proved far more drastic and

occurred before SC and Ennia returned from university. Lucio checked,

then double-checked, watching the news program over and over before

confirming. This was no false alarm, no misunderstanding of the anchor’s

message. Slugger even confirmed it when he returned, and together they

ambushed SC and Ennia as soon as they entered the tunnel.

“This time, it’s real,” declared Lucio, walking backwards and

hurriedly pointing behind him. “Hurry up! We need to go!”

“Oi, I’m with him. It’s fishy,” said Slugger. “Nature don’t act like
that.”

In seconds, they reached the portal, as Lucio filled SC in on the rest

of the details.

“Mega mega tornado, up at Lake Eerie, southern shore,” said Lucio.

“Here’s the weird part—it’s talking.”

“Talking?” SC had asked, chewing on the side of his cheek. “What

do you mean by that?”

“He means this tornado can write. Had to rewind back and forth
over the last day, but sure as hell, it’s cursive like a pen over paper. Or

cornfields, for that matter.”

 “And it spells free,” said Lucio. “Really big, over the area of an

entire state. Now if that isn’t someone breaking loose of mental chains, I

have some of my own.”

Portals were plentiful near Eerie—the weather combinations, vast

bodies of water, and industry there provided several unique sets of powers
for Peregrine to have at his disposal. So when they stepped out of the

doorway, the tornado was nearly upon them, only two miles away as it

carved over the countryside. Wind howled, buffeting their clothes and

nearly dragging Ennia away before she caught Slugger’s hand, who

weighted her down with additional mass. And together, their mouths opened
in awe as the twister rushed forwards.

Dust rose in a thin line into the sky, looping in upon itself and

bursting with energy, coiling and uncoiling like a snake. It pulled up

anything in its path, flinging them like an angry toddler with broken toys.

Houses deconstructed themselves, cars leapt into the air, and trees

splintered, all to join its growing mass. And at the very top, just visible from

where they stood, so faint that it might be a collection of dust, they could
barely make out the outline of a figure.

The Titan.

“Forwards!” shouted SC, his voice drowned out by the wind. “We

have to catch him! Slugger, get your power ready!”

 In minutes, they found a car with the lights on, crashed against a tree

and keys still in ignition. Smoke poured from the hood, and the door was

ajar, the interior deserted by a fleeing civilian. But when SC threw it into

reverse, the engine grudgingly responded, as he kept an eye on the steering

column for airbags that had neglected to deploy in case the mechanism had

a change of heart.
“Alright, Slugger, we’re going to need some weight!” he

commanded as they sped down the dirt road, throwing up their own

miniature dust devils in their wake. The car tipped in a particularly strong

gust, and Slugger ran his fingers over the side of his door, righting the car

once again with some added weight. The shocks depressed, and the engine

screamed, but still it kept going in pursuit of the tornado.

“It’s faster than we are; we need to get lighter,” said Lucio from the

back, standing behind SC without a seatbelt, his mouth practically in his

ear.

“Any lighter and we’re a kite, lad,” Slugger said, then turned to SC.
“And any heavier, and we’re a rock. Tires will give out eventually.”

“Ennia, ideas?” SC asked from the front, but she shook her head

from her seat in the back, her legs crossed and staring out the window as if

they were on a casual afternoon drive.

 “Not much materials here to blend, and even if there were, we’d

have to stop. Besides, to make something fast is hard—I have to really

engineer that well. One mistake, and when it gets up to speed, the entire
machine will come crashing down. Imagine trying to run with one leg

shorter than the other or off-balance. To optimize for velocity takes time.”

“Well, we’ve got to think of something,” SC said.

“We could fly,” said Slugger, which quieted the car as Arial’s

absence became poignant. “Eh, looks like that’s not an option now. Might

as well turn back.”

“Not if I can help it,” said SC, and punched the accelerator, lurching

them forwards. With the wind and the weight, the steering wheel leapt and

bucked in his hands, and the engine smoke in front was so thick that he

could barely see through.

“Not my point,” said Slugger. “Look, there, at the base. Where the

twister’s going.”

SC squinted, and Lucio rolled his window down, extending half his

body out the car. Immediately, they saw Slugger’s indication.

The twister had reached the shore of Eerie, and now converted to a

waterspout as the lake rushed up its vortex. Mixing with the dust, it turned

the color a deep purple, frothing and foaming where the tip touched the
surface.
 “Going to need a boat,” Slugger said. “That’s going to be harder to

come by. Besides, it’s picking up speed.”

As if on cue, the car’s engine backfired, and flames started pouring

from the hood to replace smoke. SC swerved off to the side of the road,

almost hitting another tree, and they leapt out into a ditch as the car came to

a roll. It continued, crashing into a low wall, this time managing to set off

the airbags.

Lucio brushed himself off as he stood, crushed leaves and mud

covering his shirt. He looked at the receding tornado, then back down the

road, the spot where they had picked up the car too far to be seen.
“Gonna be a real walk back. Had to choose the farthest parking spot

from home, didn’t you?” he muttered as disappointment flushed across SC’s

face.

“Who knows where that is going,” SC said, ignoring him. “Could be

headed right for a city.”

“Or could peter out in that lake,” added Slugger. “No reason to think

it’s intelligent. Last Titan barely could follow us.”

They turned, starting to walk to the portal, the wind still howling

against them. And subtly, Lucio reached out with his power, just barely

touching their memories. To instill a little hope, adding words to his

conversation with SC right before they had left.

 “The weather anchor said this isn’t the first time they have seen this

twister, and doesn’t sound like it will be the last. So even if we don’t catch

them this time, we can come back more prepared! I doubt we’d even be able

to catch up to it now.”

Ever so slightly, SC’s shoulders straightened, and Lucio loosed a

held breath.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 8 SC
Two days after they returned, Anton’s call arrived just as midnight

struck.
It had been Ennia’s idea to find a phone for their use, and each

night, one of us monitored it for an hour. Of course, it wasn’t our phone or

anywhere that my mother could find it. Rather, it was in the bakery down

the street, where Lucio snuck out to find his late-night snacks.

“The hell are you getting all of these?” Slugger had asked over
homework, as Lucio popped the third blueberry muffin that day into his

mouth. He brushed off the edge first, where small spot of mold grew,
peeling off the affected space.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Not letting you steal my muffin

supply. Maybe I made them.”

“Eh, that would explain the mold,” Slugger retorted. “Make me a

muppet, but I prefer ‘em fresh.”

“Yeah, but these are free,” Lucio said, taking another bite. “You’re

just jealous.”

“Jealous I don’t have a muffin man?” said Slugger, and Lucio

nodded, pulling his backpack out from under the table and dumping it out.

No less than forty muffins spilled out, accompanied by a few doughnuts and

bagels, plus a slightly smushed slice of cake.

 “Alright, now I’m curious,” I said, leaning forwards. “Where are

you getting these, Lucio? If you’re stealing them, we don’t need the cops

following you back here.”

“Stealing?” asked Lucio, mock offended and placing a hand over his

heart, displacing the layer of crumbs on his short. “I would never.”

“Giving people false memories of you paying so that you get them

for free counts as stealing,” I admonished, and he crossed his arms.

“You don’t have to be so accusatory. Would I ever, ever, ever do

that?” he asked, and kept talking before Slugger and I had a chance to blurt

out a response. “Don’t answer! Anyways, if they’re trash, it doesn’t count

as stealing. The baker up the street throws out whatever he doesn’t sell

every few days, and I just take the liberty of emptying his trash. He leaves

his key under the mat so it’s easy to get in. He doesn’t even hide it well. It’s

as if he wants me to take them. At least someone is happy when he doesn’t

make sales.”

“Of course they’re trash muffins. That’s all I needed to know.”

Slugger said, wrinkling his nose in disgust as Lucio popped another one
into his mouth.

For the next few weeks, Lucio kept filching muffins from the

baker’s trash, and besides the wrappers littering the floor of his room, we
turned a blind eye. But it had been Ennia who suggested that we use the

bakery’s phone at night as our own.

“We already know it’s easy to sneak into,” she said. “And not just

that, but this way, we won’t be tracked back here so long as we’re careful,

and we can keep our conversations secret from SC’s mother. Plus, since the

phone lights up when it’s ringing, we don’t even have to go inside until we
see it through the window. If we set up from across the street, we can also

see if anyone is trying to watch us. That alone is useful.”

And it was that phone number that Ennia left for Anton, and she

relayed to us the next morning, reading off a sheet of paper with “Ole

Patty’s Pastries” at the top for the details.

“There’s not much to go off of, but he at least found us some basic

information. Even under a few drinks, Kwan didn’t want to talk about it—

apparently, the non-disclosure agreements he signed are still binding, and if

word gets out, he could still get prosecuted, even after the company

dissolved. But I have an address and a name. Supposedly the owner of the
company, so we can find out more if we corner him or sneak into his house.

What Kwan did say was that he never was aware of the purpose of the

program until after it had started; he just thought it was general research.”

“Where did he direct us to?” I asked. “We’ll just head there and see

for ourselves.”
 “California, wine country,” Ennia said, then pulled out the address

and dropped it on the table. “Apparently, the owner was a man of great

wealth—among the super rich—and funded the company out of pocket.

While Kwan wouldn’t share details, he wasn’t afraid to name drop. There’s

several CEOs of huge international companies on the list of people he

cordially met at some of the company parties, some A-list movie stars and

authors, and even some prominent politicians. I haven’t actually heard of

the owner, though. The name we’re searching for there is Arachne.”

The next day, I spent a few hours searching until I found a tunnel

from Peregrine’s machine leading only fifty miles away from the address,

and the day after that, Ennia informed my mother we were going to visit

another college after showing her the brochure from one in our area. She’d

even taken a picture outside Anton’s dorm, careful to avoid signage that

indicated we were hundreds of miles away, and given that to my mother as

proof of our prior visit. This was to only be a scouting expedition, so there

was little to pack, and we planned to leave in the morning.

That night, I traveled to the subway entrance visible outside Arial’s

window, and turned on the lights by patching together an old piece of

copper wiring chewed through by rats in the electrical room underneath.

The beacon was a sign for her to meet us, that there was a new expedition
that we were taking and could use her help. For scouting, her powers of

flight would be indispensable.

And I now had a reason to break the silence from her since Rome,

when she’d departed into the sky, leaving me standing below. “I need some

time,” she’d said, and this was the first attempt for me to reach out to her.

But whether she had ignored the light, been away, or simply missed

it, only four of us stepped through the portal the next day. And into the

countryside of California.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 9 SC
The vineyard we departed appeared to stretch for miles and the

weather felt cooler than it should be with the blazing sun above, its dryness
sucking any sweat off our bodies before our clothes dampened. A two-lane

paved road split down the middle of the field, and we marched that
direction, keeping our eyes on the harvesters in the distance. From what I

could tell, they looked to below level Telekinetics —each with bunches of

grapes circling them as they waded through the fields and depositing
themselves into baskets.

“Oi, SC, about time we start thinking about on-site transportation,”

announced Slugger after ten minutes of walking with the road only

marginally closer. “If there was a Titan right now, we wouldn’t reach them
for hours. And my feet would be right sore.”

“He’s correct,” said Ennia from beneath a wide-brimmed hat that

covered her in shade, and long sleeves. With her albinism, only a few

minutes in the sun would leave her burned. “In the past, we’ve relied upon

luck. We can’t conceivably cover a large enough net to know someone at

each endpoint, so we’ll have to bring something with us.”

“Bikes would be better than nothing,” said Slugger.

“Or scooters. Or roller blades,” added Lucio.

 “Yeah, because those would kill it through this dirt,” said Slugger,

kicking up a small dust cloud.

“Well, maybe we need different types for different circumstances.”

“In what circumstance would roller blades be better than a bike?”

“In a roller rink, stinkhead,” retorted Lucio, and I cut them off.
“Point taken. We’ll work on something once we return, we still have

a good amount of money left over from Lucio’s video camera. Can’t be too

big or it won’t fit through the portal.”

A Flier would be the most obvious selection, but I pushed the

thought away. Even with Arial, she wouldn’t be able to transport us long
distances as a team. I couldn’t pin this on her.

After we reached the road, we hitchhiked, paying a pickup truck

driver to let us ride in his bed, bouncing along with sacks of mulch, a cooler

filled with beer can husks and melted ice, and a half dozen shovels that

rattled in sync with the engine. Ennia consulted a map booklet we had

brought with us, outlining a path in sharpie based upon where the truck

driver had indicated our location. We had some idea already—from the
portal door, we could see the vineyard’s name, “Strands,” and Ennia had

looked it up for a notion of distance. Slugger picked off flecks of rust from

the truck’s siding while watching the fields slide by, and Lucio munched on
a bundle of grapes he had stolen from the fields, his face puckering, as they

were not remotely ripe.

Forty miles and several sore backs later, Ennia rapped on the back

window, and the driver pulled over on the side of the road beside a

wrought-iron gate. We hopped down, the driver taking off with fresh cash in

hand, leaving us as alone as the single cloud in the blue sky high above.
Ennia took a step towards the gate, then looked down, pausing as I saw her

shiver despite the heat.

There, in a line at the edge of the road, was a pile of tiny bodies.

Thousands upon thousands of bugs clustered, a collection of wings, legs,

and antennae, seeping down into asphalt long stained by their juices. To the

left and right, the line extended as far as we could see, interrupted only by

the body of the occasional mouse or rat, the majority of the population

mosquitoes and beetles. In front, the grass continued growing undeterred,

birds chirped and flitted between bushes, and squirrels darted along tree

limbs.
“Creepy,” muttered Lucio, nudging the line with his foot, ready to

pull it back at a moment’s notice if it sprang to life. But every one of the

bugs were dead, and they slid along the pavement to leave an indent

matching his toe. Slugger tentatively extended a hand over the line,

wriggling his fingers on the other side, before hopping over entirely.
 “Feels normal to me,” he announced, holding his hands outwards as

if expecting to feel rain droplets. “If it’s killin me, it’s doing it real slowly.

I’m assuming it’s this way?” He turned and started marching through the
gap in the cast iron gate, which swung freely on its hinges. Then he

stopped, his back straightening, the breath leaving his lungs in a gasp. His

hand shot upwards, clutching at his chest as he fell to one knee, his other

fist supporting him on the ground.

“Slugger!” shouted Lucio, starting to dart forwards and hopping

over the line, just as Slugger turned back with a wink and a smile.

“Oi, good to know you care deep down, Lucio.” He laughed, then

straightened up. “Just a joke. But of course the place we are going would be

surrounded by a literal wall of death. Couldn’t choose a better location,

could ya, SC?”

Behind him, Lucio fumed, and I shook my head with relief before

turning to Ennia.

“You’re sure this is right?” I asked, looking towards the overgrown

vegetation and the cracks in the drive that were nearly an inch thick. From

what I could see, the grapevines twisted in upon each other, as if clutching

each other for life, and entire sections of the fencing surrounded them had

fallen away. Once, a sign had stood on the edge of the property, but it was
now face down, covered in dirt. “If we’re trying to find someone, this place

looks completely deserted.”

Ennia walked to the sign, nudging it over with her foot, as bugs

scurried out from underneath it. A symbol was burned into the wood, a

spider with its eight legs perched atop the cork of a wine bottle, and a

thread of web encircling it.

“Arachne, and spider. And a strand of web. I’d say that’s a good

indication,” she said, but I was no longer listening.

Instead, I had watched the bugs scurrying out from underneath the

sign, as half of them fled towards the property and the other half away.
Those that moved away lived.

And those that tried to cross the line of death succeeded only in

joining it.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 10 SC
After a few minutes of walking, the road curved, and a mansion rose

from the vineyard. Once neat bushes looked to run the perimeter, but they
now bunched in scraggly bulbs that browned from lack of watering. Vines

clawed up the brick facade, strangling out windows and clinging to shutters,
their fingers pried into every open crack of mortar. Bird and squirrel nests

poked out from the gutters, like bushy caterpillars inching along the roof,

complemented by moss that patched in with the shingles. The drive parted
at the front of the mansion, splitting around a fountain whose still water

bore a layer of algae, and a center statue coated in bird droppings.

“A few years earlier, and this would be the home of a millionaire.

And all to waste,” stated Slugger.

“Bet is still is,” said Ennia. “Land like this isn’t cheap. If anything,

whoever owns this is losing money just letting it sit here. Selling it would
be the logical choice.”

“Maybe nobody owns it,” suggested Lucio, taking a swig from the

water bottle in his backpack. Already, it was reaching dangerously low

levels, and we’d only packed two each. Before the return, we’d need to
refill.

“Everything is owned by someone,” said Slugger. “People don’t just

let value sit by.”

 “Perhaps it is historical,” said Ennia, making sure her sleeves

covered her wrists and rubbing sun lotion over her face. “Something to do

with the wine community, maybe?”

“Maybe,” I answered as we approached down the drive. With each

step, the mansion grew taller—three stories in total, and far longer than tall,
so that it looked like a school building. Up close, the flaws became more

pronounced—the siding that had peeled away, the chips in the stone on the

wall near the driveway where a car had tapped its bumper, several windows

that were cracked but not broken. We passed a row of hedges, then paused

in front of the fountain, staring upwards. “But if it’s historical, then they
must not be maintaining it. Hell, if anyone actually lives here, they’re total

slobs.”

“Hey! Now that’s no way to treat a host!” cried a voice behind us,

and we jumped around, turning to see a man under the row of hedges. He

lay in a reclining lawn chair, taking advantage of the partial shade from the

leaves, his shirt off and dark sunglasses covering the majority of his face.

With a finger, he moved the lenses down a notch to lazily study us, then
reached for a drink on a side table, finishing half of it in two gulps before

waving a lazy hand. “Ah, relax. Don’t go using your powers here, if you

have them. That’s rude, you know.”

 “How long have you been there?” Lucio demanded, and the man

waved again, fluttering his hand above his head as if it were a butterfly

wing.

“Oh, here? Years, definitely years, I’d say. Longer, I bet, than

you’ve been alive.” He held up his glass, toasting us in a mock cheer. “But I

daresay not as long as my longest drink.”

He chuckled, then finished the glass before refilling it from a carafe

in the grass, spilling more than a few drops over the edge.

“No, how long have you been there listening to us? Eavesdropping,”

Ennia clarified.

“Long enough to be insulted, lady! And can’t eavesdrop in my own

yard, can I?” he replied, holding a hand to his heart and pulling a long face.

“It’s not easy to manage an entire mansion! You wouldn’t believe the

upkeep required for the lawns alone. If I began mowing here, and worked

my way all the way to the edge, the grass where I started would need

cutting again! Besides, it isn’t even my mansion.”

“Whatcha doing here, then? You a bum?” asked Slugger.

“Nope. At least not formally,” said the man. “Nah, I’m just taking

care of it while the owner’s away. Chores and such.”

We looked up at the dilapidated estate, then back at the sunbathing

man, and I raised my eyebrow while speaking.

 “And you think you’re doing a good job, then?”

“Of course! The grounds don’t really matter; that’s not what I’m

here for. Besides, the master of the house knows about my work ethic and
had the strong presence of mind to keep the cellars stocked before he

headed out. Not a day goes by that I don’t pour out a glass for him.

Expensive stuff too.”

“Seems like a right waste to me,” said Slugger.

“And what isn’t? Everything is just one big old waste, but at least I

enjoy it. Sometimes, you’ve got to learn from the pigs and roll around in it.

Anyway, I’m not here for the estate itself. I’m here to welcome visitors.

And say—would you happen to be visitors?” He sat upright suddenly, the

sunglasses nearly dangling from his face. “Surely, you’re not pests, are

you?”

“Visitors,” I clarified, though the way he said pests combined with his

jerky motions sent a shiver down my spine. He studied us then, tapping the

side of his mouth.

“Hmm. You might just be them, then. I’d surely hope so. About time

I left here. Even paradise gets old after a while. You know?”

He fumbled around in his shirt on the ground, pulling out a whistle

on a long cord, and blew it in three shrill notes. After a moment, the front
door banged open, a woman standing there and shading her eyes.
Stumbling, the man walked in front of us, throwing his hands to the side to

make a presentation.

“Dieta! I think our guests have arrived,” he said, then cast us an

annoyed look. “Finally.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 11 SC
“Seventeen years,” Dieta said after we had entered and were seated

around a dining room table. Unlike the outdoors, the inside of the mansion
was immaculate—the appliances stainless steel and brand new, the floors

buffed to a shine, and not a speck of dust to be found on the countertops. “If
I’d had known that when I agreed to it, I wouldn’t have taken the job. But I

suppose that was the point.”

She sighed, placing both hands on the table and staring at them
before meeting our eyes. “I did expect you to be older, though.”

“Sorry,” I said, offering her a smile. “But I don’t think we’re who
you’re looking for. We actually came here in search of someone—maybe

you know him, Arachne?”

“Ah, well, you won’t be finding him in here,” she answered with a

wry look.
“He’s the bloke outside?” Slugger asked. “Bit of a mess, but we

we’ve worked with worse.”

“Unfortunately, no, that’s not Arachne,” she said. “Arachne’s not

here because he died, some seventeen years ago. I’m afraid you’re too late.
He was excited to meet you, though, and left me behind for that purpose.”

“Lady, that’s about when I was born just over that hill over there,”

said Lucio, indicating the direction of where he thought Hollywood would

be, and only generally right. “So unless this guy’s my father in hiding, he’s

got no idea who I am. Doubt my father knows either, come to think of it.”

“Well, not your father exactly, but not too far off. He was many

things, Arachne. But wrong was never one of them, not yet at least.”

“And he’s been gone for that long?” Lucio asked, then gestured
down the hall, where we could see plywood nailed over one of the

doorways. “Even if you hadn’t blocked off parts of this mansion, I bet we

couldn’t find anything of his. It’s been too long. This is just another

hurricane false alarm.”

He stood, and for once, Slugger agreed with him, also climbing to
his feet.

“The house is blocked off for practical reasons,” said Dieta. “Lee

tends the lawn, I tend the house, and I’d like to think I do a far better job of

it than he does. Though I do liberally use maids—but Lee doesn’t like

visitors, and I prefer the inside, so the outside may be a bit neglected. But

you sit right back down, because I didn’t wait this many years just for you

to go running off!”
A touch of anger had entered her voice, and I backed up my own

chair, preparing for a fight. Neither she nor Lee had shown their powers yet,

and we still had them outnumbered.

 “Fine, you want proof? SC, Lucio, Slugger, Ennia, and Arial. How’s

that for proof? I take it you must be Ennia, considering that you only

walked in here, young lady, though I don’t think I see an Arial among you.”

Slugger and Lucio froze, and my mouth worked for a moment,

speechless as she spoke our names.

“How’d you know Arial could fly?” I asked when my thoughts

rebooted.

“As I said, Arachne knew many things. He left behind Lee and me

as guardians of this knowledge—you see, Lee and my own powers interact

in a very special way. I’m an Exterminator, and he’s an Amplifier, and

together, we prevent any sort of pests from entering this estate.”

“The line of bugs outside,” Ennia said. “That was you? That’s an

incredible range, or extremely amplified.”

“Lee’s power affects more than that. You see, anyone that Lee or I

consider a pest cannot walk in here without being exterminated. That was

Arachne’s plan, of course, to preserve his messages to you. To ensure they

would not be intercepted.”

“Messages?” I said. “Is that how you knew our names? But how, if

he died so long ago?”

“All in good time,” Dieta said. “It’s quite a story, and I’ve been

waiting long to tell it.”

 “What about when you leave the house?” said Ennia. “Couldn’t

someone have snuck in then? Wouldn’t that compromise the privacy of the

messages?”
“Of course they could have, which is why we could never leave,”

said Dieta.

“You’re telling me you’ve never left this property in seventeen

years?” asked Slugger. “Seems like a whopper of a story.”

“Ah, but you are not an Exterminator. Anywhere I travel, I have to

receive documentation clearing me. Otherwise, I’d wipe out the natural

habitats. The wonders of the world won’t let me anywhere close, as I could

easily destabilize ecosystems. So if I’m to enjoy life, it may as well be in

one place—you could say that Arachne’s will, which bound me here in

return for a quarter of his fortune, was more a blessing than a curse.

Besides, I have friends who visit—you’d be surprised how easy it is to

make friends when you own an estate, plus unlimited wine.”

“And what about Lee?” I asked.

“Lee has his own friends,” she answered, and tapped the rim of her

glass knowingly. “For me, I have an entire library, a movie collection, a

fiancé, and several pets. Where I could not go in the world, I brought the

world to me. Now,” she said, and stood, gesturing for us to follow, “it’s time
for me to tell you my tale. And to deliver a long-awaited message.”
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 12 SC
Dieta produced a key, then unlocked a door leading to the back of

the house. As soon as it opened, it was as if we had stepped into an entirely

different building—here, nothing was maintained. Dust ran thick on the

floors, leaving footprints as we trudged through it, and a thin film covered
the windows from where they hadn’t been cleaned in years. Mold grew in

one corner where water damage puffed through the drywall, and a squirrel

took up residence in one of the bookshelves, chittering at us as it guarded its

nest, its black eyes staring out from the shadows.

“Lucky for him, I don’t consider squirrels pests,” Dieta said, then
gestured towards the ceiling. “Though you’ll notice there are no cobwebs.

Also, the power’s been shut off on this portion of the house for years, so be
careful where you step. It can get dim.”

We rounded a corner, then Dieta directed us up the stairs to the

second floor, such that we were eye to eye with the hanging crystal

chandeliers at the top. We moved down a hallway lined with closed doors,

each with a different name on them. Dieta and Lee passed by, and she

indicated them as she spoke.

“The old servants quarters. You see, that’s all I was in the beginning,

so this is where I stayed. After Arachne’s departure, I gained more freedom.

Though I suppose I still am his servant.”

 We climbed another staircase, then came upon a spiral one that

disappeared into a hole in the ceiling. Our hands clasped at the iron rail as

Dieta unlocked the door at the top, then ushered us into the solarium. Inside

the dome, words fought for space on the surface of the glass, descending in

rivers towards the base. Our heads craned back, Dieta indicated a row of
chairs for us to sit, the sunlight playing in rainbows split by the dome as she

spoke.

“Here, truly, is where it all began. This is a room of stories, and so I

find it fit to tell my own.”

***
Dieta

When he first brought her into the solarium, Arachne revealed to

Dieta the true inspiration of his work. He paced as he spoke, turning in

revolutions around the dome, his fingers trailing on the glass. Every so

often, he stopped, examining a line or a letter and making subtle

adjustments with a gold-tipped brush wielded in his right hand.

“Dieta, when I was a child, I found a fascination with mythology.

Among these mythologies are the gods, individuals who can change and

shape the world. You must understand, mythologies were born to explain

phenomena so great, they escaped the understanding of men. Volcanoes

were not merely the shifting of tectonic plates and magma pressure; no,
they were the gods of the earth punishing its inhabitants. Floods were

caused by the tears of displeasure from beings in the heavens, and forest

fires cleansed the land of evil. Everything had a purpose, a why, that was

dictated by these greater beings. When they sought to punish humanity, it

happened. And when they sought to reward the good of humanity, that too

happened. Truly, to extrapolate the concept of gods from powered

individuals is hardly a stretch, so such ideas were logical at the time of their

inception.

“But I realized something as I grew older, and I started to discover

my own power. With it, I can sense the strings of fate. I can see the shadows

of what would occur with every one of my passing decisions, from the

outlandish to the rational. Should I offer you a drink right now, I know you

would refuse and ask for water instead. If I were to slap you, I know you’d

stumble against the wall and smear my paint—not that I would, of course,

but that is what would happen.

“My power let me alter fate, and it shattered my conceptions of the

gods. How could I, a mere mortal, change the sheet music on which this

world is played? It should be impossible, yet I accomplished it every day.

And this meant that there was no one fate. How can something be planned

if I change it at a whim? How could the gods choose to seek the good of
humanity if I could alter fate against them? For no better reason than simply

wanting to?

“Of course, I knew there not to be the gods of old. But what are
gods? To Regulars, are we Specials not gods? And that’s when I discovered

something, Dieta—something that would change my life altogether and

make everything fit once more. I discovered the gods, what I call Titans. By

accident, at eighteen.

“You should know, by this time in my life, I understood how to pull

at the webs of fate. Thoughts, often morbid ones, would entertain me for

hours. If, during my first period at school, I were to kill my teacher on the

spot, what would happen? How dark of a path would humanity take from

that action? If it took a lighter one over the course of decades, was I morally

obligated to commit an atrocity? The farther out the ramifications, the less I

could discern about them—but they still left me with a feeling, a sense of

what was to be. I played this game often, with every decision, realizing the

great impact of minor decisions on the outcome of events. When I could, I

used it for the benefit of others. And soon they started to take note.

“When I was present, no one became sick. No violent crime was

committed on my city block in five years, despite it being in the most

dangerous part of our city, except for when I was away. The very day my
family moved, there were two murders. Money stretched farther, and
Murphy’s law turned to myth. All this from considering a stack of two

seemingly inconsequential options. Do I walk fast or slow? Do I take this

side street, do I speak to that person? Do I water the neighbor’s plants, so

that their leaves hide the new television inside that burglars would steal?

“Or, on a particularly fateful day, do I turn right or left?

“It seemed like an easy decision, as all do, as I waited at a

crosswalk. But when I traced fate to the left, I felt something terrible.

Something wretched, consequences so far beyond anything I had ever

experienced, that I grew sick. By instinct, I turned right, nearly running

away from the outcome. And at that moment, a car at the intersection
swerved, missing me by inches and ramming into a telephone pole, killing

the driver instantly. In the back seat, her baby clung to life, but as it drew its

last breath, the dark consequences faded. In those moments, I scrambled to

analyze them, to know what I had prevented—and I saw the burning of

cities, the destruction of nations. All by one hand.

“The hand of a god that now lay dead in the car seat. Snuffed out

before he could come to power.

“On that day, my belief in the gods was rekindled. There were those

of great power among us. But every great mythology has not just gods, but

prophets—and who is to say that I couldn’t pull the strings behind them, to
gift society with powers beyond imagination? To engineer the fate of our

world.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 13 Dieta
“World hunger. Peace above wars. Sickness and cancer. All can be

solved in one brush stroke. To gods, these are mere words, Dieta.”
His words settled in the solarium, as the text on the walls cast

shadows on the marble floor. Dieta stared at him, half wondering if he was
a genius and half wondering if he was mad. Perhaps both.

“So why bring me into this?” asked Dieta. “If you plan to raise gods,

then surely you don’t need my protection.”

“Each one of these lines is a strand of the future,” Arachne said,

tracing his finger over the golden text inscribed on the glass dome. “They
indicate individuals I can sense who will have a great impact on it, these

powerful beings, many of them Titans. Take this line of fate, for example—
here is a girl, still quite young, with incredible power. A corrupting power,

one that lets her control the wills of others through simple song. Think of
the wars that could be averted with that power, the genocides avoided, or

even just the prevention of repeat crime? But without adequate direction,

such a power in that young a mind is dangerous. And if someone else were

to learn of her existence, she could be snapped up tomorrow, then used for
their own ends. Each of these lines is like that—pieces of fate that are still

malleable. You’re here to keep those who would bend them to dastardly

purposes out.”
 “Why, then, invite so many people to your parties?” asked Dieta. “It

seems like you’re inviting danger to your doorstep. Isn’t that reckless?”

“Because my power grows stronger through interactions. Speaking

with those that hold more sway over fate gives me more opportunities to

change it. Think of the actors we had here last night—if I know one of these
Titans looks up to one of them and watches every one of their movies, then

all I have to do is change some of their lines. Make a personal message to

that Titan, instill the right virtue early on, all through a movie broadcasted

to the masses.”

“That’s… that’s a bit creepy. It sounds like you’re controlling them,

then. Not giving them any sort of choice.”

“Ah, I can see that angle. But consider this—without my

intervention, very few of these would live past the age of eighteen. Each of

them would not be known by their name, but by the disaster or disasters that

they caused. One, for an explosion that kills an entire small city when she is

twelve. Another, for drawing in three hurricanes at once to his location.

Remember the Titan I mentioned earlier? She moves to a third-world

country under the pretense of a mission trip, quickly gains control of their

leaders, and starts directing wars among them as if they were her personal

dollhouse. At seventeen, she’s assassinated, which kicks off a bloody war

lasting for years. In a way, therefore, I protected them from themselves, and

from those who would use them.”

Arachne walked around the solarium’s edge again and trailed his

finger along the text. All of it, at this point, terminated at his shoulder height

—though some edged slightly closer to the ground, and others looked far

less filled in.

“This is also why I need Lee,” said Arachne. “As an amplifier, his

power affects mine to let me look farther into the future. At this point, the

picture is incomplete, the future unstable. Equal chances of creating a better

world, and equal chances of the plan going terribly derailed. With his help, I

hope to stabilize it, then set it into motion. Now, Dieta, this brings us to the

most important point, why I brought you here—in order for you to be

effective, you must believe in your heart that those who would stand against

me are pests. That you agree with my cause. If you cannot, then I’m afraid

your services will fall short of my requirement, and you will be dismissed.”

Dieta paused, thinking. Arachne, she could tell, believed he was

doing what was right. And at this point, if his plans fell apart, they already

had the potential for destruction.

Besides, if she understood the interaction between her power and

Lee correctly, putting an end to him if things got out of control would be

simple. All she had to do was see him as a pest.

 “I’m in,” she said, and he beamed.

“Wonderful, wonderful. Now, I do ask for your confidentiality here

—already, there are too many who know the nature of my plans, and I’m
afraid that the cat has gotten out of the bag somewhat. There have been

some assassination attempts, as well as conspiracies to get in this room or

view it from the outside. Outside, there’s a thin layer of gold sheen on this

solarium, so reading the text would be impossible.”

Arachne stood then led her towards the door. But Dieta stopped him,

her mind reeling.

“You knew that I would agree to this before I even came up here,

didn’t you? Why did you even ask?” she questioned, her eyes searching.

“Ah, caught in the act. Well, Dieta, I did not manipulate you into

this, though I knew the outcome. I gave you a choice. And those who

choose are always more trustworthy and useful than those that are forced.”

Then he continued walking before turning back for a moment and raising

his index finger.

“Oh, and, Dieta, I nearly forgot. It’s time for you to meet a new

guest. You see,” he said, and indicated a line of fate on the wall, where she

could see her name clearly written. “Among those here, you’re the only one

in this house who would have success in interacting with this individual.”
 “A Titan?” she gasped, then moved backwards, her hand over her

throat.

“Just a young one, a lion’s cub if you will,” said Arachne. “They

typically don’t develop the full extent of their powers later on. But I

wouldn’t antagonize him either. I prefer my estate when it is not ash.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 14 Dieta
By young, Arachne meant young. Approximately four years of age.

“His parents died last month,” said Arachne as they watched the
child playing in the room below. They stood at a balcony, speaking in

hushed tones, and the boy carefully stacked blocks upwards in an ever
increasing tower. “House fire. I only just managed to call the fire authorities

in time to save him.”

“Could you have called them in time to save her parents?” Dieta
asked, and Arachne’s gaze remained unchanged, pausing before he spoke.

“Whether I could or I could not, he would have fared poorly. It is

trivial. What matters is he has a home now, with a family he will actually

remember. We can raise him right, to do wonderful things.”

As if on cue, the boy below finished placing the last block atop the

tower, then raised both hands. With a stomping kick and mock roar, he
toppled the base, the blocks crashing down to rubble beneath him. Looking

up, he saw Arachne and Dieta, then sidestepped to cover up the destruction.

“Hello there, Jeannie,” said Arachne with a wave. “I brought

someone for you to meet. This is Auntie Dieta.”

Dieta smiled, and Jeannie smiled back, tilting his cherubic face

upwards.
 “And if he throws a tantrum? What will happen?” whispered Dieta

to Arachne as the child waved.

“You’ll calm him down. If I didn’t have full faith in you, I wouldn’t

have put you in this situation,” said Arachne.

So as the months passed, Dieta spent her days caring for Jeannie.
She taught him to read, basic mathematics, how to dress and how to play.

Alone in the estate could be quite lonely, so Dieta would schedule activities

for him—ones that she herself could not leave to attend, but servants

ensured occurred. Twice a week, Jeannie practiced gymnastics, once a week

art, and another would be a short road trip to Dieta’s choosing. A park, or a
museum—somewhere of the outside world.

“Aunt Dieta!” Jeannie exclaimed when he was six. “Look here, look

what I can do!”

They had been walking the vineyards, and Dieta was explaining

how the plants grew from seeds, how with the right nourishment something

so small could grow into something enormous, and eventually could feed

the planter. She turned and saw Jeannie beaming with his hands
outstretched, a small cycling cloud gathering over his palms. It turned

purple, and lightning flashed, playing across Jeannie’s wrists to tickle the

boy, causing him to laugh. But Dieta felt only a shiver, watching as wonder
consumed Jeannie—and something else, something lurking behind the

child’s eyes. A sense of power, of control.

“That’s impressive, Jeannie,” said Dieta, squatting down next to

him. “Looks like you are discovering your power. You know what that

means, don’t you?”

“No,” said Jeannie, his face turning quizzical as he stared up at

Dieta. The clouds he held faltered and dispersed, trickling to the ground like

smoke, and his eyes filled with disappointment when he saw they departed.

“That I can make more of them?”

“Well, yes, but not just that. What you have is a gift, Jeannie.

Something that you can use to help people. Not everyone is as lucky as you

are, not everyone is given abilities like that. Maybe one day you can bring

water to dry farms, or electricity to cities without power! Who knows!” She

poked Jeannie’s nose, and the boy squealed. “But I know whatever you do,

it will be great!”

“Oh, auntie, I’m still too little!” protested Jeannie.

But you won’t always be, Dieta thought as they returned to the

house. After settling Jeannie down for a nap, she found Arachne and told

him what she had seen.

“Ah, so it begins,” he said, his fingers on his chin. “This is where

we must be most careful. Most people with powers can naturally control
them, but what he has is a curse as much as a blessing. He’ll have to learn

to master them, to rein them in, or they’ll control him. And once that barrier

has been broken, I’m afraid it is very difficult to restore it. In the past,
powers like his led to insanity and destruction —but with just the right

balance, I believe we can cultivate it.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing, Arachne,” said Dieta. “You should

find someone who does, or a psychologist.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said. “Don’t worry about mistakes; just

keep moving in the right direction. I’ll push and nudge as I see fit, to keep

you on the right path. With my guidance, we’ll never have to worry of him

getting out of control.”

And Arachne was right—so long as he was around, Jeannie

flourished. Arachne’s subtle corrections kept his power in check, and under

his instruction, he grew in control with age.

But this all required his guidance.

Something he could not give dead.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 15 Dieta
Six years passed, and in those six years, Dieta learned more of

Arachne’s plans.
“Truly inspirational,” exclaimed Miles Cochet, an actor whose

blockbuster film still sold out three weeks after launch. “The potential to
cure all environmental problems. I’ve donated, you know. Many times.”

Dieta sat across from him, sipping on a glass of wine. The actor had

a perfect face—the kind which rough stubble seemed to enhance, and full
hair that pushed off signs of aging. When he smiled, his teeth were white—

but not as white as on screen, she noticed. He collected awards as if they

were spare change, but she knew he also had a penchant for collecting

women.
Under the table, she crossed her legs.

“I’m sure he’s grateful—every dollar counts,” she said, though she
knew it to be false. These events, these galas, were held under the pretense

of fundraisers for the cause—but in reality, Arachne knew that those who

donated would be more likely to support him in other means. With a power

like Arachne’s, money was the least of his obstacles, and she suspected his
fortune was larger than most the room combined.

“Two million from the Cochets,” continued the actor, downing his

martini in a swish that would make Lee swell with pride. “After all, it’s the
least I can do. The progress of humanity must be championed by those who

have the means.”

“But of course,” said Dieta, watching as his hand inched closer to

her own on the table, then backed her chair away to stand. “But if you’ll

excuse me, there are matters I must attend to before the night ends.”
“Ah, of course,” he said, withdrawing but holding her in his gaze.

“But when the night ends, keep me in mind, will you?”

She laughed, then backed away, heading towards another table

where Arachne entertained a group of guests. This had been the reason for

the party tonight, she knew, and she recognized their faces from the
televised Nobel prize for physics, which Arachne had shown her prior.

“Ah, Dieta!” he said, spreading his hands. “Welcome. May I

introduce you—this is Dr. Freday, who specializes in nuclear power, and his

associate, Dr. Whimstat, in particle physics. Gentlemen, Dieta is my

assistant—you may consider her trustworthy in our conversation.”

“Ah, yes,” mumbled one of the men, Freday, through a thick beard

and mustache connected to hair that stood out at odd angles. He adjusted his
thick glasses, then continued to speak.

“You see, Arachne, reactors are just around the corner allowing for

perpetual energy through fusion, harnessing the power of the stars

themselves. But science has a problem—trying to kickstart these reactions

proves difficult—to give birth to a small star is no minor feat. Such

conditions that occur in space do not on earth, and repeating them requires

precision and energy.”

Arachne nodded, but Dieta noticed his eyes seemed to recede into a

faraway look that she had started to recognize. It was the look when

Arachne started preparing questions—questions, she knew, would let him

feel out the webs of fate.

“What would you need for such a thing to occur?” asked Arachne,

and Freday answered immediately.

“First off, there is funding—” But Arachne cut him off with a finger.

“No, I’m afraid you misunderstood. Funding is but a means to an

end. What is the end which you require?”

“A stable manmade star,” said Freday. “With that, we would have

enough energy to run the country many times over.”

“A manmade star,” mused Arachne. “What if—could we not go into

space to retrieve you one?”

Freday laughed, and Whimstat spoke up, his voice nasally and

accented in German.

“Impossible,” he said. “The stars are not as small as they look in the

night sky, I’m afraid. If we could simply reach up and take one—well, that

would solve many of our problems.”

 “Indeed it would,” said Arachne, stroking his chin. “Indeed it would.

Gentlemen, I have a proposal for you, one I think you might find highly

interesting. I think I might just be able to bring you a star. For you see, I
already have my fingertips in a space program of my own.”

Arachne continued speaking, and before the end of the night, a

rough design of their plans started to form, the scientists’ faces lighting up

with excitement. Arachne would fund a portion of the space station he was

building for them to run experiments—while his pockets were deep, he

assured them he had already found governmental support for the project, as

even he could not afford such a large endeavor on his own. Here they could

research and design, and the entire project would be paid for by renting out

the excess space on the station to other companies to perform their own

research. By morning, he would have a company charter drawn up and

would name the two of them as leads. And soon, sooner than they had ever

hoped, they would have access to space.

When the scientists departed, it was as if they had discovered a new

world. Dieta stayed behind to speak with Arachne, keeping her voice low so

that the other guests could not hear.

“What is it that you’re not telling them?” she asked, and Arachne

hid a smile.
 “Ah, Dieta, you are beginning to know me too well. There is always

something I do not tell,” he said. “But for them? I plan on them not making

a star. Rather, if fate is correct, I can have one born to them. Someone who

could generate stars on a whim, then their science would only need stabilize

it.”

“Why not tell them, then?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“Because these are men of science. They do not wish to rely on

powers—to them, it is like cheating. They would never agree to it. But

what’s more, Dieta, is I don’t think I could convince them to board a space

station that will birth a creator of stars. Only a thin wall separates them
from outer space—and it takes very little power to make a hole in it.”

Dieta nodded, and Arachne coughed into a napkin, grimacing as he

looked down at it. Flecks of blood covered the cloth, and he frowned,

turning it over in his hands.

“This,” he muttered, side of his mouth twitching. “I did not see.

Take care of our guests—I fear it is time for me to retire. I, I must have

missed a strand.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 16 Dieta
In two weeks, the coughing turned to hacking, and the hacking to

bed orders. Arachne demanded that he be transported to the solarium, and

spent his entire time there, gliding around in a wheelchair with his gold-

tipped brush, having Lee reach the spots that were too high for him. He
slept a mere four hours a night, the rest of the time devoted to working. And

after a week, he called Dieta up to him, his face pale as he held an ink

bottle.
But now, there were two brushes. One black and one golden.

And black streaked across the interior of the domed glass.

Cross marks eradicated golden text, with more words written atop

them, in an impossibly complicated pattern more resembling a knot than a

sentence. Splotches covered Arachne’s hands of each color, and his eyes

raced across the text, reading it as they were weighed down by heavy bags
underneath. When Dieta looked into those eyes, she thought she saw a trace

of madness.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, looking at the destruction of

his years of work. For the first time since she had met him, Arachne seemed
at a loss for words.

“There’s a first for everything, Dieta. And I’m afraid to admit, but I

have been fooled,” he said, and pulled out a handkerchief, coughing into it
again. What had been white was now stained pink, and he cast it aside in a

waste bin, pulling out a fresh one. From where she stood, Dieta could see a

pile of other wadded cloths in the bin, and averted her eyes before she could

count them.

“What is it? Why didn’t you see it coming?” she asked, and he
smiled.

“Ah, the same question that I asked myself. I’m afraid that answer

lies with Mr. Lee, here.”

“Don’t you go blaming me for all this,” said Lee, his voice light, but

expression drawn. For once, he looked sober to her, with no drink held in
his hand.

“Not at all. I did bring you here, after all. Your power of

amplification allowed me to see into the far future—but at the cost of

missing the near term. Amplifications always come with distortions—a

power becomes weaker in one area, and stronger in the other. My weakness,

it turns out, was my blind spot. And I’ve since been attacked.”

“How could someone get in here, then?” Dieta asked. “My power
would have killed them, wouldn’t it?”

“The trick is, they never entered. You see, over the last year, I’ve

been poisoned. Not all at once—if it were an event like that, I would have

caught it. It would have stood out in fate like a sore thumb. But no, little by
little. With every day, a fraction of a milligram more as it built up in my

system. Until, like a boiled frog, I reached a tipping point before I realized

what had occurred. Very clever, they were, especially considering in how

they targeted me.”

Dieta froze, remembering all the nights she had spent at Arachne’s

dinner table, drinking from the same bottles of wine and serving herself
with the same platters. But when she looked at him, he chuckled.

“I’ve still got enough vivacity to scare you,” he said, tapping his

forehead. “But no, it was not at the banquets, or your meals. Rather, they

targeted something else, something they knew that I only interacted with

extensively.”

He raised his hands, indicating the glass around him.

“My gold ink. The fumes, to be precise—no worries to you, now

that it is dry. To me, however, the damage is done. How fitting they destroy

my future with the very tools I used to create it.” He sighed and coughed

again before continuing. “For in all these plans, I was to be an integral part.
I was to guide them, to ensure nothing happened that would throw them off

track. But now—now it crumbles, shattered. My gods martyred.”

His face paled as he took another look around him, the jovial cheer

departing with each line of eradicated fate he studied. It was like a plant he
had raised from a seed to grow into a mighty tree—only to catch a parasite

and fall branch by branch to the ground before it could ever bear fruit.

Then he whispered, and there was steel in his voice.

“They thought they could kill me and seize what I had created. That

they could steal my pantheon, my work, and profit off of the powers of

gods. Now they will never find these words, these fates I have drawn—they

will have to collect them piece by piece from those who I have influenced.

They will have to assemble a window of shattered stained glass, recreate art

that has been burned.

“They destroyed my future. The future. Yet there is not only one

path—there are many, and we shall adapt.”

He took up the brush once more and continued to paint, writing as

fast as he would allow. But not only upon the glass of the dome—no, he

wrote on letters, a mountain of them, that flooded a desk nearby.

“Three weeks they have given me to live, to remold the future in my

hands. I’m not dead yet.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 17 Dieta
“Dr. Freday, yes, wonderful to speak with you. Ah, yes, the space

program—truly I am excited. Say, would you mind a favor for me? You see,
I owe someone, and she’s in need of a job. Well no, she’s not a scientist, but

I’m sure she could help you aboard your ship. Tell me, have you hired a
maid?”

Dieta paused, half listening, her pen poised above a notepad. There,

she kept an ongoing list for Arachne, tasks marked down to the hour and
day. A list, he referred to, as his final will and testament. Except for

Arachne, with his own death looming on the horizon, he would be the one
to carry it out.

“Yes, I understand that a maid on a spaceship is not the most

efficient course of action,” said Arachne, then smoothed honey into his

voice. “Dr Freday, this is a formal request from me not just as a friend, but
as your primary investor. I can supply the funds for an extra headcount. Yes,

she’ll have no problem passing a security clearance. I daresay you’ll hardly

even notice her.”

Arachne paused, listening to the response. Like many of his tasks

over the last few days, the recipient sounded more confused than anything.

Even to Dieta, who held the complete list, the actions seemed random at

best. Some were remarkably trivial, items such as number four, which read:
 Reminder to remove a dozen books from the river mill, with the

apparatus specially designed by myself, and place them in the safekeeping

of Percy.

Dieta’s brow furrowed at that—while she could confirm that Percy

was no pest, at the parties where she had met the collector he nearly stank
of one. Always he drifted between the conversations of those with the most

money, and always he seemed to have something he was willing to sell.

Then there was number twelve.

Place an order for the entire stock of Powers Limited Action

Figures, to execute the day before Christmas Eve.

Powers Limited, it turned out, made toys displaying many of the

rarer Special abilities. As far as she could tell, Arachne had absolutely no

relation to them, and she’d had to track down the phone number on her

own. Nothing seemed special about the toys, simply models that emitted

noises or lit up when moved into special configurations.

Some list items seemed petty, such as number 46, which Arachne

had underscored twice and Dieta wondered if it might be more of a personal

vendetta.

Insult Falcon Newsome’s mother, using only the crassest terms.

That one, she had not witnessed—but she had heard the phone call

from across the mansion, the screaming match interrupted only by rough
hacking coughs as Lee poured them a steady stream of wine. She’d even

tried to stop Arachne beforehand, unsure if the poison had started altering

his mental state. Had it been something like lead or mercury that caused the

man to finally tip?

“You know, before people leave the world, they try to leave things

right, not screw it up more,” she said as he dictated each of the tasks to her.
“Fate is fickle, Dieta,” he answered, his head in his hands. “And

under the duress of imminent extinction, I’m exercising my power to the

height of its ability. Are you familiar with the concept of compound

interest?”

“The idea that you leave money in the bank and it grows in value

over time? Sure I am.”

“It applies not only to money. Make a small change in fate now, a

tiny push or prod in the right direction, and twenty years from now, the

effects can be monstrous. With fate, nothing is certain, so I’m stacking the

odds the best I can. What you see here are brushstrokes to my painting.”
“Well, I don’t see how half of these could have any realistic effect,”

she answered.

“Of course you don’t. Like you said, you can’t see,” he said and

tapped his forehead. “I can. The greatest mistake our foes left me was

giving me weeks left to live. In my state now, I would have no chance of

defeating them. But instead, I will set the stars in motion to align in the far

future, when they already think they have won. And I will spring from the

past to take it from them, when I am but a ghost of the past.”

“Who is them, exactly?” Dieta asked. “Why can’t you just eliminate

them now? If you can see everything, that can’t be too much of a problem.”

“I see the future, not the present. In the past, I did not consider them

enough of a threat to warrant complete elimination—rather, you were

enough to deter them. Besides, they had their uses. I knew many of them,

some time ago—in fact, they helped me construct this room, and were here

when the very first touches of golden paint touched the glass. But we saw

the world differently, and split. To me, humanity’s problems spring from

challenges that must be overcome by the strong for the weak. To them,

weak humanity itself was the problem, and their eradication would render

problems trivial. Two sides of the same coin, I suppose, but one far more

dangerous.”

“What do you mean, eradicate the weak?” Dieta asked, and felt a

chill.

“I mean that anyone below the strongest Specials would be wiped

out, and the world created anew through the remaining population. To them,

the weak are weights on the back of the strong.”

 Dieta paused, and Arachne completed the question forming in her

mind.

“You, Dieta, would qualify among the strong. Should it come to

pass, you need not fear that fate. You just reached the cutoff.”

While a slight reassurance, she still shifted. Among Exterminators,

she was among the very best. If anyone below her were to be killed, that

would be the vast amount of humanity. At least ninety-five percent, using

conservative terms, and only including Specials. She stared down at her

hands, considering.

“They see them as pests,” she said, and Arachne nodded. She’d felt
guilt in her power before, but ultimately, she killed roaches and mosquitoes.

Bringers of disease and destroyers of resources, animals of such a low

intellect, they barely registered as conscious. In a way, she killed to save.

“But I see them as human,” said Arachne.

“Then are you sure your plan will work?”

“Six weeks ago, I knew I was supposed to die at the ripe age of a

hundred and two. Now I die a mere fifty-five. Nothing is certain, even for

me.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 18 Dieta
Arachne lied about his death date. It occurred on a Wednesday,

rather than the Thursday he predicted, and Dieta suspected he had not
wanted to go through saying goodbye.

He had, of course, done so in his own fashion. And to Lee’s delight,

it had taken the form of a toast.

They met in the vineyard, at a small table with three chairs clustered

around it, just as dusk settled upon them. Right before harvest, as the
bunches of grapes hung heavy on the vines. Aside from them, there was no

sound—thanks to Dieta, the buzzing of insects was nonexistent. The birds

had retired, and only in the distance could they see the headlights of cars

reflecting against the sides of hills, too far to hear the motors.
Arachne produced a bottle of wine, and with a shaking hand, poured

it into each of the cups, filling them to the brim. Enough so that between the
three of them, they finished the bottle.

“This is the first bottle to come from my vineyard,” he said. and

upturned it, letting the last few drops return to the soil. “I’m afraid it isn’t

very good—I never was one for wine making, especially back then. I’d say
only about one in a thousand of my bottles is worthwhile. But the location

proved a tempting destination for those with influence. Far easier to draw
them to an estate in wine country than cornfields, eh? Since the nature of

my work prevents utilization of more urban areas.”

“I do find the lack of nearby watering holes a disappointment,” said

Lee, twirling his mustache. “Though your personal stock has helped ease

my pain.”
“My deepest condolences.” Arachne laughed. “But too many prying

eyes spy in the city. Not just that, but too much stimuli is around me—if I

change the future, how can I know that it was from the call I just made to a

government official or it was the extra tip I gave my pizza driver for dinner?

Here, at least, we are more cut off. It strengthens my predictions of the

future. And speaking of our work, here is a toast—to you, for all that you

have done for me, for the world.”

He raised his glass, and they clinked together, each sipping from the

wine, pulling a face as the bottle tasted like spoiled vinegar. Then Arachne

raised his glass again, this time his eyes glinting with something akin to

mischief.

“And a toast for all that you will do.”

Somewhat hesitant, and sharing a look, Dieta and Lee clinked

glasses once more and drank.

“And what, exactly, would that be?” Dieta asked.

 “Quite simple. All I ask is in my absence, you continue to reside at

my estate. You will never find yourself wanting, and by all accounts, will

lead a life of luxury. Feel free to bring visitors, but I request that you never

leave the premises. Until, that is, my torch can be passed on. In some time, I

cannot say how long else I risk spoiling its occurrence, a group will come to

find me—their names, you will see, are written in gold in my solarium.
Lead them there, and give them the envelope I have left up there—for no

other eyes is that to be shared, including your own.”

“And what should the compensation be for this vacation?” asked

Lee “As my employer, with your departure, will my paycheck also leave?”

“On the contrary,” said Arachne. “So long as you fulfill this last

wish, I leave a quarter of my fortune to you. But you must complete it to the

letter. One step off the property will cost you millions.”

“Deal,” said Lee, extending his hand and finishing his glass of wine.

Dieta still clutched hers, nearly three-quarters full, as they shook. Then

Arachne turned to her, and the world turned back to silence as she
considered.

“You, Dieta, are an integral piece. A keystone. Without you, my

created fate has no bridle.”

“It’s the only way?” she asked.

 “The only way, at this point. Perhaps with more time, I could find

another,” he answered. “But we are in a corner, and this is the escape.”

She shook his hand then, following Lee’s lead, and Arachne
produced another bottle. Then another, until the vines around them started

to sway, and the sourness no longer seemed so prevalent on their tongues,

and Dieta no longer needed her long sleeves to keep her arms warm. Their

laughter filled the fields, Arachne sharing stories of his youth—how, back

then, he had used his power to keep a puppy secret from his parents for two

full years in his room, and how he had once stumbled into a particularly odd

strand of fate that would have ended with him as the adopted prince of a

small nation.

“I think it is fitting I sleep here tonight,” said Arachne, as Lee and

Dieta packed up their chairs, fumbling with the straps from a mixture of

alcohol and darkness. “Under the stars. Looking towards them, you might

say. After all, they were once used by oracles to predict fate. Poorly, I may

add, but at least they tried.” And he pointed to one on the horizon, one

slightly brighter than the others.

“That’s the North Star, you know. Funny how it only bears meaning

because we gave it one. It just happened to be in the right place, and we

decided upon north. Did we choose it, or did it choose us? Personally, I’d
say we defined it, but that doesn’t diminish its value.”
 “I much prefer the Big Dipper,” said Lee, craning his neck

backwards. “Because spoons. Spoons mean food. And I’m as hungry as

they get right now.”

“And you, Dieta?” asked Arachne, shutting his eyes. “Do you have a

favorite?”

“I think I prefer when they are gone, and the night is over,” she

answered.

“Ah, but they’re still there, beyond the blue sky. You just can’t see

them,” said Arachne, and his breathing turned regular. Dieta and Lee left

him there, her collapsing into her bed, and Lee into the cupboard.
When they returned the next morning, heads pounding and the sun

high into the sky, Arachne breathed no more.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 19 Dieta
As Arachne passed, so too did his predictions.

Just before Christmas, Powers Limited Action Figures surged in

popularity. Every child around the county marked it at the top of their wish

list, and the toy stores emptied within two days. Combined with Arachne’s
order, there were absolutely none left in time for gifts, though Dieta had no

inkling what the effects of that might be.

Dr Freday’s space program launched, and they honored Arachne’s

word by taking the maid with them. Weeks before, Arachne had contacted

the hospital where she had worked as a delivery nurse, calling them under
several names to launch complaints. Stating that her powers had affected

the outcome of their own children’s powers, that as a Snuffer, she passed
along the less desirable ability instead of the ones parents had paid good

money to attain. Just outside the hospital on her last day, he’d posted fliers
seeking a maid, and when a Mrs. Alceme dialed in hours later, she assumed

it to be a stroke of luck. But under Arachne, nothing was luck.

Most personal to Dieta, however, were his foretellings of Jeannie’s

power.
That summer, more storms passed over the vineyard than in the past

fifty years. Drainage systems flooded, weathermen panicked, and Lee gave

up on his agreement of keeping up the yard after the first two showers. But
during the storms, Jeannie went missing—and only after hours of searching

did Dieta find out where.

Upstairs, a small window led out to the roof, and as Dieta searched

only the draft of wind passing through, it caught her attention. Outside,

lightning flashed as sheets of rain pummeled against the shingles, spraying

up in a fine layer of mist. Thunder rattled the window frame, and as Dieta

moved to slam the window shut and minimize the pool of water growing on

the floor, another flash illuminated outside. There, leaning over the edge of

the gutter, his hand holding on to an antenna for balance, stood Jeannie.

“Jeannie!” shouted Dieta, and the boy turned to look at her, his eyes
bright with excitement and crackling energy. His hair rose on end, separated

out by static charge, and as he smiled, sparks played between his teeth like

floss.

“Watch me!” he shouted back, and Dieta had no choice. For the

window was too small for her to fit, and she could not tear her eyes away

from Jeannie teetering on the edge.

The boy raised a palm towards the sky, where the angry purple
clouds were most concentrated, and shouted in defiance. His fingers curled,

and the clouds buckled, lightning forming at their tips. It descended

downwards, not instantaneously, but at a leisurely pace—feeling out its path

until it reached his finger. When the tip connected, the electricity lost all
restraint and flooded into him with the force of a smiting god, the white-hot

fire as thick as a tree trunk.

And Jeannie caught it.

He laughed, seizing its end like a long whip, then yanked down

upon it. The lightning rushed into his grasp and pulled more behind it—rain

and wind and tufts of storm clouds that barreled down in a funnel. He
compacted it, crushing it into a ball the size of his fist, sparkling with

energy.

Dieta could still hear the thunder as loud as ever, and smelled the

freshly produced ozone. She could still feel the electricity in the air. But the

sky above had turned blue, the storm completely captured by Jeannie, who

did not even appear wet from her position. Then he raised the storm orb up

to his waiting mouth, and took a bite.

The storm howled —as if alive, it tried to twist away from him, but

he caught it, spinning it back into its ball. Except like an apple, bite marks

carved out an entire side. Jeannie swallowed, his veins turning bright blue
as the power passed through him. Then, like a pitcher, he threw the storm

from the rooftop.

It unfolded, bursting forwards like a spring and rushing back into

the sky, covering it entirely. Or rather, nearly entirely, as a bite mark now
punctured through the center, a hole high in the sky marked with a blue

patch.

“This one was sour,” Jeannie announced to a stunned Dieta, sticking

out his tongue to reveal the purple coloring, as if he had just enjoyed a

lollipop. “The last one was more sweet, but it was younger. I think that’s

why.”

“The last one?” stammered Dieta as Jeannie climbed back in.

“Well, no, two ago. The last one smelled kinda funny, so I didn’t eat

it. I kept it, though. Want to see?”

Then he led Dieta to his bed, pulling out a wooden box from

underneath. Flipping the lid, he revealed three orbs that rolled around the

inside, two with a single bite missing.

One that smelled of spring showers. Another, of the bay water that

sometimes reeked of shellfish. And the third, more wind than anything else,

with only wisps of clouds circling the edges.

“I call them here, you know. I can feel them out them and they’re all

too happy to come. This one, I call Brian. That one, the smelly one,

Dogbreath. And the last Michelle, because the cloud wisps look a bit like

hair.”

“How long have these been here?” breathed Dieta, remembering the
ferocity with which the last storm had escaped. No mansion could survive
that, not from the inside.

“These ones? A few weeks. I had to get rid of a few, box got too

heavy. What’s wrong, auntie? Want me to let them go?”

He reached forwards, but Dieta stayed his hand before he could

touch them.

“No,” she commanded, her voice almost harsh as panic leapt

through it. Then she took a moment to soften the tone. “Later, not now.

First, I want you to show me more of what you can do, Jeannie.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 20 SC
“Jeannie, as it turned out, could do more than simply capturing a

storm. Or devouring it. With every year, his powers grew. And storms
cannot be contained,” said Dieta as she finished, and Ennia leaned

forwards. During the story, she’d walked the room with her sketchbook,
copying down the gold text onto paper.

“And?” she asked before gesturing to a line of text covered in black

text. “Did that happen?”

“Did what?” asked Lucio, and Dieta grimaced.

“According to his prediction, he’s responsible for over a million

deaths through hurricanes. A string of class fives that pummeled their way

up the east coast in rapid succession,” said Ennia. “Lucio, looks like your
concern in Cuba might actually have held some substance.”

“That was what would happen before Arachne took him in,” said
Dieta. “Though if you knew Jeannie, you wouldn’t believe that he was

capable of such a thing. Since he’s been gone, not a single class five has hit,

and several hurricanes have fallen apart before they reach shore. It’s my

guess he’s interfering.”

“Having some snacks,” said Lucio, mimicking a biting motion, and

Dieta nodded.

“What exactly happened to him?” asked Ennia. “Why did he leave?”

 “I suspect it was out of concern for Lee and myself. You see, Lee’s

powers strengthened his in ways he couldn’t predict. But while he was here,

I couldn’t count the number of times the house was hit by lightning, or a

storm appeared out of nowhere. We awoke to find him gone after a

particularly stormy night that blew out half the windows during a
nightmare. Which may or may not have had something to do with it.”

“And you have no idea where he went?” Ennia pressed.

“I think this may help you,” responded Dieta, and pulled out an

envelope from her pocket, still sealed with wax. “For Arachne, himself, to

you.”
I took it, opening it with my thumb, the wax seal falling to the

ground and unfolding the letter inside, reading it aloud.

“May the strands of fate become the future. Episco Island, three

days from today. There, you will discover your greatest weapon, through

strife. There, you will find the convergence.”

“If what you are saying is true, then Arachne planned all this? Not

just this, but if he sent my mother into space, Arachne planned me?”
“Your mother was the maid?” asked Dieta. “That would explain

much. I wish I could answer, but he left precious little for me to understand.

He saw a future, and you were certainly part of it. Now, I suppose, it’s up to

you to choose if you will follow his lead.”

 “Do you truly believe he wanted a better world?” I asked, then

bitterness entered my voice. “Because we’ve been cleaning up after him

ever since. He’s the reason why Rome was attacked, if he fostered Titans.

He’s why my mother was kidnapped, then, hell, he could even be blamed

from the rehabilitation facilities!”

“I believe he considered them the lesser of evils,” she said. “And

can you blame him, if you don’t know what could have happened?”

“Well, there’s no way he’s all-knowing—he thought Arial would be

here, and she isn’t. So what if he’s wrong? What if we’re going on a goose

chase, or to our deaths?”

Dieta shrugged, her palms upwards.

“Then I suppose you should not go to the island, then.”

“But he would have considered that,” said Ennia. “Maybe he doesn’t

want us to go, only to think that he wants us to go. Maybe—”

Lucio clapped his palm to his head, groaning to cut her off. “This is

making my brain hurt; we’re going in too many circles,” he said.

“Aye,” agreed Slugger. “What I’m thinkin is this. We head to that

island, and we see what it’s on about. We don’t like it, we leave. But this

Arachne bloke was for sure wrapped up in all this. And if we want to find

more Titans, that’s where we should go, right? It’s better than watchin

weather channels.”
 “Especially since we have more clues,” said Ennia, then read off her

sketchpad. “Rhea. Amelia. Eric. These are just three of the names in the text

I’ve read who are other Titans. There’s tons more on here.—Who knows
who is still alive, but this information alone made our trip here worth it.

Though so much of this is practically illegible or cryptic.”

“I’m happy to have helped in some way, then,” said Dieta. “It’s been

a long wait, I’d hope it isn’t for nothing.”

***

Dieta

Dieta watched from the solarium as the group departed, heading

back down the road. Lee, now that his contract was over, offered to drive

them. She bit her lip, her heart fluttering.

They were young, younger than she had hoped. Too young to bear

the weight of what Arachne had left.

With a sigh, she pulled another envelope from her pocket, this one

wrinkled, the seal broken long ago, and her name scrawled across the front.

Then she read the contents for the thousandth time, Arachne’s last message

for her.

Dieta,

I cannot thank you enough for your service, and I pray the plan
comes to fruition. I know you will have raised Jeannie well—and that when
he departs, it will be for the better of all. He has more parts to play. Know

that him leaving had nothing to do with you, and that he was against it.

I’m afraid I must ask you for three more tasks after my passing. Already,

you have done so much that I hesitate to ask for more. But it must be done.

When our visitors arrive, there will be four of them, as written in the

solarium. But you must inquire after a fifth, a Flier named Arial, as if she is

among them.

You must leave the other envelope in the solarium to them.

Within the solarium, I have marked one window with an X. The one that

faces north. Exactly ten years after my death, break this window and clear
out a path to prevent it from being obstructed. Leave the shards in place, as

if it were through a storm, an unfortunate accident. Such that, if someone

were watching the estate, they could glimpse it.

My thanks to you again, my faithful servant.

Arachne

She turned, looking to the window she had broken long ago. In the

distance, she could see a hilltop with an uninterrupted line of sight through

the glass. There, should someone zoom in, they could see through it—right

to the golden text on the other end of the solarium.

In confidence, she’d asked a friend of hers to travel to that hilltop, and

to try to read the text through binoculars. They returned with a note, a single
phrase and a date.

Three days from today.

Episco Island.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 21 SC
“You’d think it would change up in all these years, but nope,” said Lee

as we pulled out of the gate, bouncing on the car’s shocks as we turned onto
the main road, swerving over the median then back into his lane. “Just

about the same. You’d think they’d add something to the road. Hell, I
remember that pothole that used to be right there too. Damn taxes don’t pay

for a thing. Can you believe that too—we still paid taxes holed up in that

estate. Didn’t bring us a shred of good in my opinion.”

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” asked Ennia from the back seat, and in

response, Lee scowled into the mirror with ruddy cheeks, then took a sip
from an opaque cup at his side.

“Just a bit rusty is all. The car is not exactly street legal though, hell,
haven’t had this thing registered since I last got out. Don’t you worry, I took

good care of her.”

“About as good care of her as the lawn,” said Slugger, wiggling a loose

door handle and trying a window that was stuck in place.

“You watch it back there, or I’ll be drivin you right on back. Didn’t

expect there to be munchkins yappin in the back seat, else I would have
done it up for you. Car seat and all.”

Slugger jabbed back, but SC’s attention had turned out the window,

watching as the scenery flickered by. Honoring Lee’s request, he had not
used his powers on site of the vineyard. But now he was no longer on the

property.

He snapped his fingers, trying to call a dark orb into existence, but the

space in front of his hand refused to bend into the steep cone required. Even

force points were difficult, like trying to mold plastic instead of clay. Space
still moved, but sprang back when his attention wavered, resisting his call.

He frowned—Lee was an Amplifier, and he should grow stronger in his

presence, not weaker. Perhaps he would be able to create force points at a

farther distance, and to test the theory, he focused on a tree a hundred yards

away from the car.

Reality shifted, snapping at once into his perception.

It was as if he could feel everything in a hundred-yard radius, the

masses weakly pulling to him and each other, dancing along in constant

interaction. There, off to his left, was a hill that bent space downwards,

calling ever so softly to the birds circling about it. Below, the earth

beckoned, space dropping rapidly to draw him inwards. There were

pinpricks of bent space he realized were bugs, and the twisting of vines, and
the others seated around him in the car. Far above, so distant he could just

barely sense their presence, stars and planets called to him, reaching across

lightyears to scream for his attention.

 He tried to gasp, but the sensations overpowered him—no longer was

he only SC, now he was the substance of the world. To breathe, he

contracted not the muscles in his chest, but bent space to bring air in and

out. Then he expanded his alterations of space—no longer were they points,

or orbs, but fabric.

Moving out in waves, he pushed and pulled, the surface of reality like
that of a rippling pond. He focused on the tree that he had initially targeted,

pulling it downwards in space. Where before, a force point would be like a

pinprick, this was like a cannonball slamming down through tin foil.

The shattering trunk drew him out of the trance, and his eyes shot open,

just in time to see a ripple across the ground at the tree’s roots. The

branches had bent downwards, splitting the trunk in half, and the dirt

climbed upwards in a mound that reached the lowest leaves. Even if he had

been five feet away from his target, he would not have been able to achieve

that same result—he could have obliterated the tree with dark orbs, but not

moved that much mass at once with a force point.

At a hundred yards, it should be far beyond his ability.

He swallowed as Lee pulled in next to the portal and closed his eyes

once more, feeling out the dark tunnel that extended through space and back

to the subway. Except now he sensed how Peregrine had twisted the space

together—though he still doubted his ability to create a tunnel; with the

right prodding he could undo one. And just as he had tied one in a knot in a

moment of desperation when they first discovered the tunnel, he could

easily do so now, using the disruption of reality to hide a space in the

middle. A pouch, or a pocket, separate from the rest of the world.

“SC, wake up!” shouted Lucio, jabbing him in the ribs as he bolted

upright. “We’re here. No time for naps.”

“He’s right,” said Ennia. “We don’t have much time. If we’re going to

make it to the island, we need to figure out how to get there, pack, and still

visit Anton.”

“Visiting Anton might be off the books.” I said, and she scoffed.

“I left my diary with him. We’re going back. We have just enough

time.”

“Besides, we need time to prepare if we can. Leave that to me and

Lucio. Maybe even scout the area,” said Slugger.

At the mention of scouting, my thoughts slid back to Arial, who would

be perfect for that task. I bit the side of my cheek, thinking back to Dieta’s

questioning about her. Obviously, Arachne had expected her. Had he been

wrong? Or had I somehow twisted fate, ruining something that was meant

to happen, somehow driving her away? Had the loss come so hard to her

that she’d decided to leave?

 I grit my teeth together as we exited the car, stepping towards the portal,

not turning back to the vineyards. Whatever Arachne had predicted, I knew

one thing for certain as my thoughts rested on Arial, my motivation

hardening.

This time, I would not lose.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 22 Arial
Arial ignored the subway light that flickered outside her room. But the

more she tried to look away, the more it seemed to invade her personal
space.

When she passed by her window, it seemed to grasp at the corner of her
eye, demanding her attention. Turned away from it, it seemed to prickle into

her back, as if it were watching her. And when she went to sleep, her ceiling

reflected the distant orange glow.

As if it watched her.

This had been the first time the light had turned on since Rome. She’d
caught herself waiting for it by accident, whether it was with sideways

looks through the window or moving her favorite reading spot from her bed
to her front porch. She’d told herself it was the weather, that she was

enjoying the outside.

And not the direct line of sight that position offered her.

No, these past weeks, she had planned for that light to turn on. Of

course it would, and when it did, she would act as if nothing had happened,

as if it was merely another streetlamp. For all she knew, a maintenance crew
might have come by and switched out the electrical lines. That was

probably it —her father complained to the homeowners association when

the neighbors took an extra day to pull in their trashcans, and surely
something like that wouldn’t have missed his notice. Or the city had

preemptively removed the eyesore in order to reduce his amount of letters.

So far, her plan had worked. She hadn’t reacted, she hadn’t lifted off in

flight to hover over the subway entrance, peering to see if there was

movement within. Before the light had turned on, she’d caught herself
taking the long way home, or an extra loop around the block to catch it

twice. But not now.

Whatever SC was handling, he would have to take care of it by himself.

She needed time to figure things out—and there seemed to be so much that

had happened without a break to reflect. Her school, which she had once
thought prestigious and prided over her grades, had been reduced to a

rehabilitation facility—and that reduced further to a criminal operation. Her

father becoming enemies with her newfound friends, then her traveling to

the Amazon, then Rome. Discovering that there was so much more to the

world, she thought, and so much of it darker and more dangerous than she

had imagined. That adventure came at a price.

And then there was SC—but what had really happened there? A few
kisses, some adventures, some—and she tore her thoughts away as her heart

started to beat faster.

No, she decided she needed time away from SC. If he were to come

here now, at this very moment as she sat reading on her porch, she’d turn
back around and walk inside. Nothing he could say would convince her

otherwise—she’d lost too much already. She’d failed. She couldn’t do that

again, at least, not until she was stronger.

She flipped the page of her book, remembering that plan—her new

ability, one that she kept secret from everyone, learned from the Litious.

One she practiced nearly every day, testing its limits as she pushed farther
and farther. It started with simple tasks, such as interrupting her mother

when she tried to mend something. Her mother really shouldn’t be mending

anyway, as it always took a toll on her, so Arial had no qualms about

suppressing her power. Then there were the times when her father would be

looking for her, using his ability to track her through her Flight power. But

she could suppress that too, keeping him bewildered as he would find her

studying in her room, or lounging in the backyard, or at school.

Usually, he could keep relatively accurate tabs on her location. Now, he

would have to learn that she would be where she wanted, when she wanted,

without his knowledge. She’d blame it on his age if he asked her, or say she
hadn’t flown in a few days. But so far, his pride hadn’t reached the point for

him to inquire.

As she discovered the possibilities, she wished she could tell someone

—but anything she said to her other friends would sound like tall tales.

Maybe one day, SC could know—but that day would be no time soon. No,
wherever he was, whatever adventure he was on, it would have to wait until

after.

She flipped another page of her book, then froze as a shadow loomed
over her. She could still hear her mother inside, and she’d purposely let her

father sense her in her room before coming down here. Then, looking up,

she saw the face that had been pushed to the back of her mind.

Her throat closed as her mouth opened, and he stood there, silent, the

subway light glittering over his shoulder. Her book fell from her lap, and

she realized that he didn’t look any different, though it had felt like years

since she had seen him. Yet it was almost as if she stared into the face of a

stranger.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but we turned on the light, and I wasn’t sure if

you had missed it,” SC said, and it was his voice that jolted her back into

reality.

“The light?” she managed to stammer, blood rushing to her cheeks, and

feigned surprise. “Oh, that light. I, well, how long has that been on?”

“Only a day,” he said. “ But you wouldn’t believe what has happened.”

“What?” she asked, standing in spite of herself, her Flight ability pulling

her off her feet as if powered by curiosity. She stood closer than she had

expected and floated back an inch, then forwards a half inch again. Right
now, she would go back inside before he could convince her otherwise.
 “I have so much to tell you. So much you have missed,” he said, and the

words hung in the air between them. Then the gap closed once more as she

drifted forwards.

You’re not the only one, she thought, and felt the embrace coming

before she could stop herself.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 23 Arial
Arial was furious.

She’d expected to miss out on something, but not, well, not this much. It
was as if they’d already had several adventures without her. And she’d

assumed that they could get on just fine, but this Arachne character made
her nose wrinkle. Somehow, he’d managed to call her out from nearly

twenty years back, like a student caught skipping out on class before they

were even born. Alongside irritation, guilt welled up in her—what if she

had been supposed to play some part at the estate or notice something the

others had missed? This felt less like taking a break, and more like shirking
duty.

Now they gathered around a table in the subway, and Arial avoided
most of their eyes. This adventure was only just beginning, and she had

plenty of time left to contribute. She’d be more careful this time, though;
this one would not get out of hand.

“I say we just tell this Anton that we’ll be a few weeks late and head out

to the island early,” she said at a break in the conversation. “We have no

idea what is out there, and will be flying blind into god knows what.”
“I thought about that too, but if we’re going to fight more Titans, we

need every advantage we can get. Cane and Lynns seemed to think that we
could get more information from them, and I doubt that was just about

Arachne,” SC said.

“Plus, my diary,” interjected Ennia. “I’m telling you, there’s things in

there we don’t want him to know about.”

“Like your crushes?” asked Lucio with a smooching motion, and her
pale skin made her blush stand out like cherries on her cheeks as she denied

it.

“No, worse than that. Information on our powers, where to find us, and

some conceptual knowledge for machines I want to build. He could

probably create a new wing of the university off of those.”

Arial placed her hands on the table, then flew a few inches into the air,

giving her height a slight boost. In arguments, it seemed to make a small

subliminal difference.

“By the time you get there, ride the bus to town, do whatever he wants

you to, and bus back, we’ll be late. Anyway, what if all this is some sort of

trap? Arachne’s idea for the future might not be beneficial to you. Seems

like he’s the one behind The Instructors, that they gleaned enough
information from him to start their facilities. If Arachne had just never

existed, we wouldn’t have this problem at all.”

“Oi, can’t think about it that way,” said Slugger. “If everything good

you did was stolen by the baddies, you still did the good things. Can’t
blame the inventor of trains for bank robbers, or the pen maker for

blackmail letters written in ink.”

“Fair, but she has a point. We don’t have time to do everything,” I said,

and my mind turned back to the understanding I’d gained from Peregrine’s

machine when Lee amplified my powers.

“I can fly you there,” said Arial. “It’d be faster than a bus, but I’ll be too
exhausted to take you back.”

“That—” I said, thinking. “That actually might work.”

***

We’ll be back soon,” I announced as Arial and I departed through the

portal. “Ennia, be ready to leave when we are. If this works, it’ll be worth

the trip.”

“I’ll be taking notes if it does,” she answered.

“Lucio, Slugger, see how far you can stretch this,” I said, handing the

envelope filled with cash to them, a mix of earnings saved from Lucio’s

camera sale in the Amazon and some scrap material Slugger had found deep
in the tunnels. “Like we agreed, we need to build our reaction time to the

news events, and this should help.”

“Aye,” said Slugger, then gestured to Lucio. “But don’t be giving this

one any ideas on spending.”

 Then Arial and I stepped through the portal, into the same burned down

forest I’d visited with Ennia. I could still smell char in the air, though the

fires were long gone—already, bits of greenery popped up through the

blackened soil, pushing aside ash. Arial frowned, looking down at her white

shoes and immediately jumping to hover a foot off the ground, watching me

as I extended my senses.

Without Lee, I no longer had a full picture of Peregrine’s machine. The

definition was missing, as if I had dropped prescription grasses or was

trying to peer through a foggy mirror. But I still remembered how it looked,

like a blueprint embedded in my mind, and what points connected to my

reality. Then I reached out my powers and took hold on the portal, my grasp

tight around the end of the dark tube extending all the way back to the

subway.

I tapped it, twice, and the tunnel shivered. Then I pushed, my eyes

closed, feeling more than seeing. And the tunnel entrance glided a foot to

the right.

“I might not be able to create these, but this is almost as good,” I said as

Arial looped her arms around me. For a second, I shivered at her touch —as

if I’d forgotten the way she felt, or the smell of her now that she was so

close, like clean laundry and vanilla.

 “Are we good?” I whispered as we were alone as she paused, her chin

on my shoulder. “Us, everything?”

“I, I think so,” she stammered, then added, “But we’ll need to talk.

Things aren’t like they used to be.”

Then we lifted off, cutting above the forest and completing Ennia’s and

my trek in minutes. Where the road curved or ended at a stoplight, we flew

straight through, easily reducing the travel time.

As we streaked across the sky, I towed the portal behind us, my

concentration latched upon it. It glided with little resistance, the dark thread

behind it spooling far away and following us the entire route to the
university, where we dropped it directly on Anton’s dorm’s rooftop. And all

the while, both of us pretended to concentrate on using our powers as an

excuse not to speak.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 24 SC
“Perfect, perfect, perfect,” exclaimed Anton when his dormitory door

opened and he allowed us inside. “I’ve just finished up for the semester.
We’ll have more than enough time for a break. Since I’m a residential

advisor on this floor, I’ve even cleared out a room for you while we conduct
research.”

“A room?” I asked, hesitating on his doorstep. Inside, the dorm was

spotless and smelled of a library mixed with instant noodles and coffee.
Neat rows of books filled metal shelves that looked like they belonged in a

classroom, the bed was made without a crease, and not a trace of laundry
was to be seen on the floor.

Behind me, Ennia had joined by passing through from the subway after
landing, while Arial waited by the portal on the roof. Before bringing her

through, we’d tested it by throwing bits of shingles into the doorway,

making sure that moving it wouldn’t have any adverse effects.

“Well, of course I have a room for you,” Anton answered. “You didn’t

think you would have to commute each day for our studies, did you?”

“I didn’t think it would take more than a day.” I answered, and he

laughed, brandishing a notebook in his hand.

“Science takes precision and experimentation! According to my Gantt

chart, we’ll be finished with my first quarter of them by the end of the
week. Then I can start interpreting the data to pull together results, so I’d

say another month before you return?”

“You provided us with an hour of knowledge, and you want weeks of

our time in return?” asked Ennia. “The math doesn’t quite work out for that

one.”
“But it’s a value proposition!” said Anton, clutching his notebook to his

chest. “Just because I had the information ready doesn’t mean it was less

valuable. Anyway, you promised me your time. I have your I Owe You

note!”

“We promised to help, not be lab rats,” said Ennia. “But maybe we can
make a compromise here. We can give you a few hours, and then come

back for additional studying?”

“Absolutely not; a few hours isn’t nearly enough. Besides, I don’t get

many breaks from my graduate program—I have some time off now, but it

could be months before I get another chance like this. I need plenty of time

for observation, and this is perfect for me. You promised.”

Ennia and I shared a glance, while I drummed my fingers on the door

frame. Then I stepped inside his dorm, raising a hand, and holding a dark

orb in it. I teased light out from the surface in a beam that played across his

ceiling, and for added effect pulled a ping-pong ball up from his floor with
a force point and set it into orbit. His eyes widened with hunger, and I

spoke as the miniature planet and moon floated around his dorm.

“If you want to see more of this, it’s going to have to be on our terms,

not on some fine print you’re trying to inject into our agreement. Now, we

want to help here, Anton. A friend of ours referred your professor because

he thought it would help me develop my power. But we’re going to have to

find something that works for both of us.”

“Ah, I know!” said Ennia, raising a finger. “You could come with us to

the field! Plenty of time for observation there.”

“Absolutely not,” said Anton. “The conditions out there are not

controlled. The data would be skewed. I might as well randomly generate

numbers.”

“It’s how science used to be done! Come on, have some thrill of

discovery,” Ennia prodded, but Anton stood firm. From his pocket, he

pulled out Ennia’s diary, flashing it at us.

“As far as I’m concerned, I still have this,” he said. “And unless you fill
your end of the bargain, don’t think you’ll be getting it back.”

“You’re really making this difficult for us here,” I said, and let the dark

orb grow in size. The ping-pong ball zipped into it, annihilating it in an

instant, and the papers stacked neatly on his desk ruffled.

 “Don’t get any ideas. So long as I hold on to this, you’re not taking it,”

Anton declared, tone resolute.

“Try me,” I said, and threw a force point near his hand to drag the book
away. All I needed to do was separate him from the diary, then I could

destroy it. But as soon as my force point neared him, Anton changed.

Green light shot out from his skin, oozing over every surface of him and

over the diary in a glowing cocoon. It simmered, moving in waves over him

as he stood perfectly still, as if petrified by the action. Only his eyes tracked

us, and I froze as the force point failed to rip the book away. Then I crossed

the room, gripping the book between my fingers and pulling. My grip failed

against the light, my fingertips sliding across the green light as if it were

made of ice, and when I pulled against his arm, it refused to budge even an

inch.

I summoned the dark orb behind me and moved it forwards gently,

coaxing its edge to the book.

“Alright, Anton.” I said, just before impact, holding it an inch away.

“You can either give it to us or I’ll strip it away now. Might take a few

fingers with it.”

His eyes only glared, and I set my shoulders.

“No? Fine, then,” I said, and called his bluff.

 I moved the orb forwards, pushing it against the green surface to

consume the pages. But the darkness met green, and instead of pulling it in,

bounced. I tried again, frowning, but the orb darted away once more, like a

basketball off a backboard. Around Anton’s mouth, the green light receded,

and he spoke through gritted teeth, his jaw locked into place.

“I’m in the lab because I’m an Ironclad, first rate. It means I can

observe any experiments without harm to myself. Nothing passes through

this shield, not chemicals, not force, not even spatial manipulations. We had

a deal, and I’m not moving until you agree to walk out that door with me

and show me more of what you can do.”

“You know what? Fine,” I said, stepping back and letting the orb

disburse with a pop, blowing Ennia’s hair back and knocking several books

from the shelves. I turned on my heel, fuming, and marched for the door.

“Better hurry up; we’re in a rush.”

I slammed the door behind me as Ennia followed, and heard him

scrambling to follow from inside. Under the crack, the green light receded,

and moments later, he stumbled through the door at a run.

“Wait!” he shouted, bursting through. “I still have to show you your

rooms. They’re—”

Then he froze, his mouth open and eyes wide as he registered the

subway around him. He whipped around, just as I closed the portal I had
dragged last second from the roof to his doorway, and he had blundered

through without noticing. Static now filled the frame, and he leapt

backwards as he tried to put a finger through it, dropping Ennia’s diary as it

shocked him. Without hesitation, she scooped it up, and it turned to solid

bone in her grasp.

“You want observation? Well, here you go, data point number one,” I

said. “We’ve got a heavy few days ahead of us. As Ennia said, welcome to

the field. Now that I know you’re an Ironclad, I no longer have to worry for

your safety.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 25 Lucio
Lucio spat as he walked his way back to the subway alone and blew his

unkempt blonde hair out from his eyes. Slugger had started to take him
shopping, but after shooting down Lucio’s first two suggestions without so

much as a looking at the price tags, Lucio had deserted him.

Of course, the price tags were far above the money that they had in

hand, but that wasn’t the point. Lucio could have haggled or struck a deal if

given the chance.

“If you want to make a purchasing decision, maybe you should earn

something,” Slugger had said, brandishing the envelope just out of Lucio’s
reach. “I harvested the subway for this money, so I get to decide what to do

with it.”
“I did earn it,” exclaimed Lucio with a swipe, but Slugger moved at just

the right moment.

“None of that memory business; you can’t convince me otherwise. See,

I even wrote on here that this belongs to me. Besides, my common sense

outweighs the memory you gave me of bussing tables. You couldn’t hold

down a job for a day.”

Lucio had stormed off then, as Slugger returned to shopping without

him. Economical and efficient, Slugger had called his purchase decisions,

but Lucio knew the real name of his methods.

 Boring.

Back in the subway, Lucio stormed over to Peregrine’s machine to see if

SC and Arial had returned. Six of the doors showed dark static, while two

of the others depicted scenes were far removed from the dank underground

of the subway.
In one, the landscape zipped by in a blur of trees and sky, as if he were

watching through a car window. That meant Arial and SC had been

successful, and SC was dragging the portal as she flew him. But in the

other, Lucio saw nothing but palm trees swaying in the darkness on an

expanse of sand. Before leaving, SC had found a portal on the island they
were to travel to, in case they would need to leave quickly on return. Now

Lucio stared with curiosity through the door, wondering what awaited them

on the other side.

In moments, he returned with the math book that SC’s mother had

provided him for schooling, tiptoeing to not disturb Ennia in her room. He

ripped a page out, crumpling it in his palm, then tossed it through.

Depending on the elevation difference, traveling through one of the

portals would either freeze or burn anything moving across without SC’s

guidance. This way, Lucio could test it—so long as the paper ball did not

char, he shouldn’t burn. And if ice did not form on the surface, he shouldn’t

freeze. Not bad, at least.

 Neither happened as the paper came to rest in the sand on the other side,

rocking back and forth in the wind. Cautiously, Lucio extended a finger out,

testing his pinky as it passed through to the other side.

A slight warmness, but nothing more. As if he were standing in sunshine

or near the kitchen stove. Pulling it back was like jumping into shade, but

neither direction hurt, meaning he could pass through without SC’s help. He
could scout out the area, then tell them what to expect, maybe even make a

map before they returned. Or maybe he could discover the reason why they

were supposed to go to the island on his own, without their help, and

surprise them with the results.

Then Slugger’s voice echoed through his head, and Lucio frowned with

irritation, just before he took his first step through.

You couldn’t hold down a job for a day, Slugger had said, and Lucio

shook his head.

No, SC and the team would probably be angry with him when they

found out he’d left ahead of time. They wouldn’t be leaving for a while
anyway, at least a day, which meant he had time to prove Slugger wrong.

SC had made him return his video camera because he didn’t have

enough money. Slugger had taken over the shopping trip for the same

reason. Both those problems originated in a thin wallet. And that was

something that Lucio could change.

 With a new sense of purpose, he marched from the subway into the city

air. Air that now seemed to him to be full of opportunity. Not of work, but

of a game.
To prove Slugger wrong, with wads of cash.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 26 Lucio
“Eat in or carry out?”

Lucio stood behind the counter of the Burger Bazinga, staring at the
teenager near his age behind the counter. The cashier wore a uniform

stained with grease, a smattering of zits over his face, and hair standing on
end from a lack of combing.

“No food, actually; looking for something else,” said Lucio, peering

around at the deserted restaurant.

“A drink?” asked the teenager, pressing the button with a beep.

“No,” said Lucio, and was met by rolling eyes.

“Look, I’m not a Mindreader,” the cashier said. “If I was, wouldn’t be

working here now, would I?”

“And that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,” responded

Lucio, throwing his hands wide. “I’m here to apply for a job!”
“Applications accepted on Wednesdays for starter positions,” droned the

cashier, reaching under the counter and pulling out a sheet of paper to hand

to Lucio. Between his fingers, even that felt greasy, the paper turning

slightly translucent where he touched it.

“How about right now?” said Lucio, then placed both his hands on the

countertop before vaulting over, landing next to the cashier.

 “No, I don’t think—” started the teenager, but Lucio cut him off,

placing a hand on his shoulder, focusing on the other boy’s mind.

“It’s my first day, remember? You just finished showing me the ropes.”

“Of course, of course,” said the cashier, scratching his head. “But what

about—”
“Francis, how many times do I have to tell you that you can’t have your

friends on the job?” came a voice from behind, and Lucio whipped around

to see a middle-aged woman staring down her nose at him. On her head, a

burger-shaped hat tipped off to the side, and she carried a clipboard like a

shield and a spatula like a sword. She glared, then the expression turned to
recognition as he turned his attention to her mind next.

“Lucio!” she exclaimed. “Of course, here for your shift. And for your

paycheck, I suppose?”

“That’s right,” said Lucio with a cheery wave. “Last two weeks; you

forgot it last time. No worries, though!”

“Of course,” she said, shuffling to the back. He heard a printer in her

office, and a few minutes later, she returned with an envelope. “Odd,
system had some bugs plugging in your hours, but I got it all figured out.

Now, can I schedule you for the late shift? Or what’s this week like for

you?”
 “Just today; looking for some disposable income here,” Lucio

announced, threading his finger under the seal and opening his paycheck.

“And—hey, what’s this? Is this only for an hour? You missing some

decimals?”

The manager took it, looking over the statement before handing it back.

“Twenty hours right there. Keep at this another three months and you’ll get
a twenty-five-cent raise.”

“A quarter raise?” gasped Lucio, then vaulted back over to the other

side of the counter. “You’re crazy. And you,” he said, pointing at the

cashier. “You should quit. Lot’s better things going on out there than in here

for that price. See?”

He broadcast a series of images to the cashier’s mind, memories of a

move he had been working on lately of an adventurer that explored the

ancient pyramids, finding vast troves of treasure deep in their labyrinths.

The teenager’s expression turned glassy, and his hands mechanically

removed his apron before he followed Lucio over the counter.

“He’s right, I’m out of here,” said the cashier, and together they left. He

started to follow Lucio as they stormed across the parking lot, then paused,

freezing in the middle of the asphalt.

“What—what the heck?” he said, patting himself down, suddenly

realizing his actions over the last few minutes. “I can’t lose that job. My dad
will kill me!”

“But adventures,” prodded Lucio, his fingers waving in the air, but the

cashier had already rushed back inside. Lucio shook his head, continued to
walk, and muttered to himself.

“Way better ways to make money than that. Wouldn’t even want that

job, but I could hold it down. If I had to.”

Marching down the street, he hopped in and out of every store, checking

the wages of each of the employees. Most of them hardly made enough per

hour to pay for a lunch. That wasn’t exciting—hell, that was even more

boring that Slugger’s purchases. At this rate, he’d have to work two hundred

hours to even have the same amount of cash as what was in that envelope.

But he wouldn’t quit now —he’d still show Slugger his worth. There

was money out here to be had, and in easier ways than with a job.

He came across the art store twenty minutes later and nearly left in

disgust when discovering the cashier made the same as the burger joint. But

then he paused, his eyes catching a poster on the wall, the date on it for that

night.

University Art Showing and Sale, it read, with listings of the artists

slated to arrive. He smiled, taking the poster and folding it into his pocket.

The address was in a wealthier side of town, and the crowd it would attract
would have fat wallets. Plus, several of the professors would be there, the

poster mentioning a few were renowned across the world for their works.

And Lucio had nimble fingers.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 27 SC
“You—you’re a thief,” stammered Anton, his wild eyes still staring

around the subway in shock. It had been ten minutes since we arrived, but
he still clung to Peregrine’s machine, as if expecting the doorway to spring

back open and allow him to pass. Across from him, the image of swaying
palms and sand filling another doorway only bugged his eyes out more, and

his left hand trembled where it had once held the diary.

“Thieves,” corrected Slugger, causing Anton to jump and whirl around

as he emerged from the darkness.

“You succumbed to avarice,” said Ennia, brandishing the rectangular

chunk of bone that had once been her diary. “Then tried to threaten us. We

tried to work with you.”

“What she means is, ya got greedy,” translated Slugger, and Anton’s

eyes darted around the dim enclosure, searching to see how many of us
there really were.

“Look on the upside,” I said, offering him a smile. “You’ll have plenty

of time to observe now. And we don’t have much time, so we may as well

get started.”
I turned him around, leading him away from the machine, activating the

portal again behind us. Ennia slipped back into the machine to retrieve

Arial, who we had left on the rooftop, while I directed Anton towards the
tunnel mouth. Away from our rooms and my mother—towards something I

would need him to see.

“You can’t just do that,” Anton continued in disbelief, but I stopped,

putting a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away, but I held it there, looking

him square in the eye.

“Anton, if you really want, I can send you back now. Nothing binds us

to you without the diary. You can be back in your room in five minutes. But

if I send you back, you’re gone. It will be as if you never met us. We’ll be

out of your life, and I mean out. You won’t find us again, you won’t hear

from us. It’s as if we had never existed. We came for Kwan, not for you,
and I’m sure there are plenty of other research scientists that would jump at

this opportunity. So the choice is yours—do we go back?”

Anton opened his mouth, then closed it again, his curiosity at war with

his confusion.

“No turning back. I won’t lie to you, the road ahead is dangerous,” I

pressed. “But this is an opportunity you’ll never find again. A discovery.”

“Then, deal,” he said, and extended a hand. “But no more tricks.”

“So long as you don’t get greedy.” I responded, grasping it and leading

him deeper into the tunnel. “Now, let’s see what I can do.”

***
 Two hours later, I lay face up on the cool tunnel floor, panting as sweat

streaked down my forehead. My ankle tilted into a deep groove along the

concrete, made fresh only a half hour before, and it took all my

concentration to keep the orb floating above me stable. Light poured out of

it in a stream, decreasing its mass, the darkness wobbling more violently

with each passing second as the orb neared the line of instability. With a
final push, I maintained control over it until it reached the size of a pea, and

it slipped through my fingers like sand.

The pop was accompanied by the scratching of Anton’s pen as he

squinted through his glasses, trying to make out the letters on his clipboard

in the sudden darkness.

“And what, exactly, is the point of all this again?” I asked, as much to

the ceiling as to Anton.

“To establish a baseline, a control,” Anton answered as he scribbled.

“For me to understand your powers, I must know their limits, their full

capabilities. Only then I can design experiments. While the conditions are
not as close to laboratory quality as I would prefer, they will suffice. For

instance, by measuring how much concrete you can feed into your orbs, I

can calculate their maximum weight prior to rupture. The same applies for

how long you can stream light away from them—I can work out the rough

minimum mass threshold. I observe that you can only control two at a time,
but why is that? Perhaps it is a mere mental barrier or technique inadequacy

that limits you, and three is just over the horizon. But more importantly, I

wish to discover the obvious—that which you are already doing, but may
not notice.”

“Pretty sure they’re my powers, and I have an idea what they can and

can’t do,” I answered, still staring upwards.

“Then why am I here? Did you not come to me for help?” he asked.

Then he pulled something small from his pocket and tossed it to the ground

in front of me, where it bounced and came to rest by my right fist.

“Now, I’ve studied your mass thresholds. Durability seems to play a

small to negligible role—that is, once you generate an orb, they seem to last

indefinitely so long as their mass is constant. Distance is certainly a factor,

and control decreases exponentially with each added meter. We know your

maximum distance, and unfortunately, I don’t have a good way to test the

maximum strength of one of your force points down here. But there is

another variable I wish to test, one that might be even more elusive.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 28 SC
“Hold,” commanded Anton as I gritted my teeth, my hand outstretched,

my arm shaking from the effort.

“What do you think I’m doing?” I snapped back, the area in space in

front of me buckling. It rippled, bouncing the object in it to leap into the air
like a jumping bean, then settled once again in the circle Anton had drawn

with chalk.

“Inside this, I want you to make a plateau,” he had instructed. “Push the
space down and hold it. Don’t crush what’s in the middle there—just lower

the space around it. Make sense?”

“It doesn’t really work like that,” I answered. “It’s hard to hold anything

flat; much easier to make a point.”

“But I bet you haven’t tried to make a spatial plateau often,” he said.

“Naturally, you made points to move things around. I’m sure when you
started off with those, they were just as difficult. You’ve just had more

practice now that you’ve done them often.”

I remembered the afternoon I had spent in the parking lot of the

abandoned supermarket learning how to use force points, as well as the long
days of lessons at the academy. Now, making force points seemed second

nature. But he was right—back then, it had been hard.

 “Twenty more seconds, keep that plateau flat,” commanded Anton and

another ripple buckled the circle, sending bits of gravel flying and raising a

fine layer of chalk dust. Holding space confined in this manner felt like

keeping a twenty-pound weight raised above my head. The first few

seconds were easy, the next few turned my arms wobbly, and by the end,
fatigue screamed at me to collapse.

“Stop now,” he commanded and I released the space. Like a trampoline,

it rebounded, sending the object in the center flying upwards as Anton

stepped in to catch it. He missed, and it bounced along the floor as he

rushed to pick it up, then clicked a small button on the side, illuminating the
screen in the center. In his other hand, he held another identical object, and

held both up for me to see.

“Nearly a half second!” he exclaimed, bouncing on his heels, each of

the stopwatches dangling in front of my eyes. “Look at that; it actually

worked.”

“Next time, I need to save a half second over two minutes. I’ll keep that

in mind.” I leaned against the wall, wondering if I should have left Anton
back at the university. If this was all he could show me of my powers, then

we were better off scouting out the island.

“No, you don’t understand; this was only to test if this was even

possible. See, look at these stopwatches —I brought them to the hundredth

of a second because I thought that was all you would be able to do. You see,

according to physics, gravity and time are fundamentally tied together, but

it takes a massive difference in gravitational potential to speed or slow

down time. This is fifty times better than I expected from you, and only

your first time!”

“I’m still lost how this can help,” I said. “Did you see how much that
took out of me, just to make something else slightly younger?”

“Right, right. Now you can only alter a half second, but think about in

the future when you might be able to speed things up or slow things down

more than that? In fact, you could aim the effect on yourself. What if you

could do ten percent time speed up or slow down by affecting the shape of

space. That’s running faster at ten percent, thinking faster at ten percent—

hell, that’s a serious advantage right there! There’s so many possibilities

here, I don’t even know where to start.”

I opened my mouth to respond, then paused. I’d been about to retort that

there was no way I could run and hold that field together, but there were
times that would come in handy. What if I only had to hold it for a quarter

second while dodging a projectile? Would a projectile even hurt if I could

slow down time enough?

“Or, imagine that you’re abandoned somewhere or stuck in a cave,”

Anton continued, and I realized he had never stopped speaking, but rather
my own thoughts and exhaustion had drowned out his monologue. “What if

you could enter a trance, only focus on speeding up your own time. With

enough skill, you could survive weeks without water! Or, if we could make
you do this subconsciously, you could get a night’s rest in just an hour. The

uses for this could be endless, so many ideas that—”

“Well, hold on,” I said, raising my hand. “Let’s not get too far ahead of

ourselves. I barely managed to produce any results that time, and I’m

completely spent.”

“Ah, of course,” he chided himself, trying to hide his disappointment at

the word spent. “Do you think you could maybe try one more time? I’d

want to see if it deteriorates.”

“There’s absolutely no way. We’ve been away long enough. I need to

check in, and I’m not sure if I could walk back after another attempt.”

Desperately, I needed a glass of water, and my stomach growled. Besides, I

wanted to save some of my power to practice later. Without Anton directing

my every move, I might be able to find a way to strengthen the effects on

my own.

“If you say so.” He sighed then flipped the pages back on his clipboard

and followed me to the tunnel exit.

“Wait out here,” I commanded as we approached my rooms. “Tonight,

you’ll need to sleep in this tunnel. We’ll bring you a tent, food, and water
soon. But if my mother sees you, then she’ll get suspicious.”

“But there’s rats,” Anton protested, and I shook my head.

“I warned you this would go outside your comfort zone. Just tonight, we

can work something else out for tomorrow.”

Then I walked the rest of the way to where Arial, Ennia, and Slugger

waited around the dinner table. They’d been conversing in low tones, and

when I approached, their eyes met mine from too far away. Ennia pretended

to inspect the grains of wood in the table, and Arial glared at Slugger, who

was the only one that held my gaze.

“Just a few hours,” Arial was scolding him. “You couldn’t have kept
watch over him for that? You knew we were getting ready to leave.”

“Look, he’s not my damn responsibility. If you wanted me on babysitter

duty, you should have said so. He right ran off when I wouldn’t let him go

spend crazy with the cash,” Slugger retorted.

“What’s this?” I asked as they each looked to each other. Then Slugger

spoke, his voice exasperated.

“It’s Lucio. He’s been missing now for at least four hours.”

“Four hours and seventeen minutes,” said Ennia, looking up from the

table, “to be precise. And I think I know where.”

Then she led me to Peregrine’s machine, where I had left the portal

open to the island. Crumpled pages of Lucio’s math book rested just inside.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 29 SC
It was still night on the island when we passed through the portal, but

dawn started to break as the tip of the sun breached the distant waves. Only
sea life announced its coming —no birds that trilled in excitement, and fish

that leapt from the inlets to escape larger predators. Crabs scurried away
from our shadows, their pincers raised in rage as they dove into tide pools.

Shells crunched under our feet as we walked, the sand coarse with sharp

fragments that dug into our shoes, and the tide lapped lower with each
passing minute.

To our left, there was nothing but blue sea accented by the white foam.
And to our right, grey and black stone rose in sharp crags, with hollows dug

into them through years of weathering. The beach lasted only a hundred
yards before the cliffs cut it off on either side, and at high tide would likely

be completely underwater. But nowhere was there greenery to be seen—any

plants we came across were dark brown and long dead, the husks of a few

palm trunks still standing, and plain dirt patches where grass should take

root.

“We’ll need to move inland for shelter,” said Slugger, his eyes tracking
the waterline on the rocks. “If we stay down here, we’ll be washed away by

next morning.”
 “Shelter?” asked Anton. “I thought we came here because your friend

was missing.”

He’d recovered from the second teleportation far easier than the first,

though he’d only approached the portal after two of us passed through.

Even then, he’d dipped a toe through like entering a swimming pool before
darting in a leap, spending as little time as possible in the barrier.

“We need somewhere to set up base. If we get split up or decide to stay

here after we find Lucio, then it’d be best to have a location. Besides, we

have other business here,” I answered, and Arial spoke from where she

walked on the other side of Slugger.

“Are we sure this is the right island? Hardly any landmarks to go by.

Here, hold on a second.”

She leapt into the air, soaring to the top of the cliff line, her shadow

racing her up the rock face. There she turned a slow three sixty before

drifting back downwards and alighting in front of us.

“Not much to see,” she said. “Pretty rocky; there’s a mountain in the

center. Definitely an island for sure, and not of the paradise type. No sign of
Lucio or anyone else, for that matter.”

“A volcano, not a mountain,” corrected Ennia, pulling out a map that

she had cut from one of our atlases liberated from the library shelves.

“Inactive for years, though. A few miles across from the widest points, and
deserted as far as the records show. We’re on the right island, according to

my math—I checked the stars, they line up with our coordinates.”

“The stars? Where did you learn to do that?” asked Anton. “Who are

you people? That’s not normal for most teenagers.”

“Where I come from, it’s the best way to navigate. Different sort of sea,

a green one. The Amazon,” Ennia answered, and Anton shook his head in
wonder as we reached the base of the cliff. The makings of a trail rose up

the side, too steep to walk but possible to climb. I jumped upwards, taking

an overhanging dry root that nearly snapped off under my weight in my

right hand, then pulling myself up to a ledge. From there, I could move on

my fingers and toes, scrabbling up the surface, while Arial floated next to

me.

“You know, I could lift you the rest of the way up,” she offered, but I

shook my head as my fingertips turned dark from the crumbling rock.

“If Lucio came this way, then he would have climbed the cliffs as well.

We need to be looking for clues of where he went. Knowing him, he

probably left a snack trail. Can you fly around to the caves to check he isn’t

in any of them?”

Behind, the others followed my finger and foot holds, and the ground

soon leveled to where we could manage a crouched walk. Arial flitted

through the outcroppings, darting in and out any accessible to the ground,
then piled a dozen rocks in an arrow indicating our direction in case Lucio

returned. More than tracking Lucio, I’d declined her offer for other reasons

—even with her back, things felt different. When we walked, she stuck to
the outskirts of the group, and when she offered ideas, it sounded

professional. Like she was answering a question in class or giving

instructions.

Not like talk between friends, or something more.

Soon we crested the ridge, panting slightly as we looked back down

towards the sea. Vertically, we had climbed around fifty yards, but the

gradient was enough that from our current vantage point we were in more

danger of sliding than falling. Off to the left and right, the slope turned far

steeper, and we’d need to avoid the loose pebbles around the edge. As Arial

had indicated, ahead was mainly rocky—several lone dead trees bore

purchase on the soil, but it was nothing like the density of the Amazon.

Greenery looked as if it had once attempted to conquer the outcroppings,

but it was thin and viney, fighting a losing war against the elements. And

the mountain she had pointed out appeared to be entirely shale, with not a

speck of vegetation on its surface.

I licked my lips, already parched as the sun continued to climb. Water

would not be easy to find here, and aside from the deserted bird nests and
crabs, food also looked sparse. But shelter would be simple, I thought as I
turned to the rocks that continued to rise on our left, inspecting the surface

for cracks. It looked smooth, a single piece, and I generated a dark orb as I

searched for other flaws, speaking to the others as I worked.

“Arial, Slugger, we’re going to need supplies. Return back down to the

portal and see what you can do about food and water. When you come back,

I’ll move it back up here for easy access. Ennia, can you help me with this

rock? The less dense, the better.”

“On it. Just give me a few seconds head start. Rock can be difficult,

especially old rock—it has not changed form in millennia and takes some

convincing,” she answered, extending her hands as Arial carried Slugger

back down the cliff. Typically, Arial would object to such a menial task, but

she’d accepted this one immediately. Perhaps for a chance for some space.

Ahead of Ennia, the rock started to morph, and she spoke as the color

turned from dark to white.

“For large amounts, changing this to bone is best,” she said, eyes closed.

“Ossification is easier to me than other blending methods and I can keep it

spongy to decrease weight. Besides, the calcium content in these rocks is

relatively high, which makes it easier to change. I’ll go for depth now, and

we can widen it out later. Every bit we make it wider is much harder than

deeper, mathematically.”
 “Good plan,” I answered, generating a second dark orb and facing the

changing stone. “Anton, here’s your next demonstration.”

Then with Ennia’s aid, I started to drill.

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Chapter 30 SC
You will discover your greatest weapon through strife.

Arachne’s message flowed through my mind as I completed the cave,

settling the portal to the subway in the back. Arial and Slugger carted in

supplies—cases of water, packs of snacks, first-aid kit, bedding, and some

much needed caffeinated beverages. For while it was morning here, at

home, it was night, and exhaustion had started to pull at the edges of my

consciousness.
Ennia stood at the cave door, covering it with strands of brown

vegetation ripped off the surrounding rocks. The layer was thin, but enough
to obscure the opening to prying eyes, and with a touch of her fingers bore

more of a resemblance to grey rock than plants. Slugger took a break from
supplies to roll a boulder in front of the opening for additional protection,

leaving a two-foot gap for us to pass through, and Ennia cast handholds into

the back of the rock.

“In case we need to seal ourselves in quickly,” she said. “Who knows

what we might find out there.”

“Good plan,” I said. “Now, if we’re going to start searching for Lucio,
we should figure out a grid pattern.”
 “Oi, he’ll be fine,” said Slugger. “He lived on the streets long before

you scooped him up. He can care for himself. Not saying we shouldn’t keep

our eyes open, but I haven’t seen any danger yet. Besides, if we want any

hope at findin him, we’re going to need some rest. Heat of the day is about

to hit; might as well let that pass before searchin.”

“Arial, do a quick pass above us and see if you can catch sight of him.

This means we’ll be losing valuable time,” I said, then bit my lip,

considering our options as I looked over the group. Slugger was right: they

already looked exhausted, and pressing them now would mean stealing

productivity from later. And we had more reasons to be on the island than
Lucio.

“Alright, a short rest, then. Four hours sleep, then we’ll need to make up

time. Too much sleep now and we won’t adjust to the jetlag.”

“Oi, almost forgot,” said Slugger, and flitted back through the portal I

had retrieved into the back of the cave. In a moment, he returned, wheeling

a mountain bike with the price tag still hanging from the handlebars.

“Not new, but we could afford one for each of us,” he said. “Ready to
ride. Real upgrade from walking, eh?”

“What the heck did Lucio want to get, then? These look great,” I said,

checking over the bike and clicking the gears. Had Slugger not told me it
was used, I never would have been able to tell—even the tires still had tread

on them.

“Aye, he wanted some that were a wee bit faster,” said Slugger. “But our

cash wouldn’t spread that far for everyone.”

“I’ll talk to him when we find him.” I sighed, looking out towards the

outside. “If I know him, he’s probably just trying to make himself useful as
a scout now. Maybe he’ll return to us naturally before we can search. But if

he doesn’t—well, we have a short window, according to the message.

Arachne had us come here for a reason, and we can’t miss it. Now rest up

and be ready to move right after waking.”

Soon, snores filled the cave, Anton included, as I sat with my back

propped against the smooth stone wall. I’d carved a seat there, my feet

dangling, and closed my eyes. We needed to rest, but my muscles refused to

relax—instead, my legs clamored to spring up and start exploring the

island, and I had to force my eyelids down.

After ten minutes, I shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. But I

could still see the sunlight peeking in the doorway, pulling me out of sleep,

and my mind rushed ahead to review plans on exploration and finding

Lucio. Then my thoughts slid backwards to a few hours before, the last time

my back had been against stone, and Anton had taken notes on my ability.
 Like when I’d first discovered the capabilities of my power, I would

have to practice to develop new abilities. And if I couldn’t sleep, at least I

could put my time to use.

In front of me, I tried building the flat projection in space that Anton

had described, alternating between plateau and crater as I pushed and pulled

at an area of bare rock. Without the stopwatch, it was impossible to tell if it

was working—to my eyes, and not the sense of my power, the rock lay still.

But I focused on the shape, building it and letting it fall back apart, molding

the space with my will. Trying to increase the agility of my command, like

learning how to dribble a ball, or a skateboarding trick. With each

repetition, my control increased gradually—sometimes, the shape slipping

completely from my grasp as I tried to adjust my grip, other times falling

into place like stacked cups. But I could feel the slight improvements, the

indication that there was room to expand.

Carefully, gently, I moved the projection in space over myself,

practicing moving it up and down in a circle encapsulating me. It was

almost like preparing myself to step through Peregrine’s portals, and with a

steady hand, I could barely discern as the shape of space changed around

me. If I made the plateau too uneven, I’d be pulled right or left—but if I

kept it flat, the change was imperceptible. I increased the intensity as my

confidence grew, trying drawing space up harder and faster, then pushing it

down in the same manner.

At first, there seemed to be no difference. In the dark, the chests of the

others rose and fell at the same rate. When Arial stirred, she did not look

faster or slower, and when I tossed a pebble across the floor, it neither

accelerated nor decelerated with my efforts. But something seemed

different, off, and it took me a few seconds to pinpoint what exactly had

changed.

The snoring. Or rather, the pitch of the snoring, which moved just

barely higher or lower as I moved the plateau, time barely changing the
sound.

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Chapter 31 SC
“Very exciting!” Anton exclaimed when the group started to stir, and I

told him about the sound effects of his advice. “Yes, that would make sense.
You’re altering the frequency, crunching sound waves together or apart.”

“How come I can’t see things slow down or speed up yet, then?” I
asked, playing with the spatial projection as he spoke to alter the tones of

his voice.

“It only takes a tiny bit to be able to hear a slight pitch difference. Keep
working at it, like I said earlier. Even a small gain in this area could be a

huge advantage. Just think of what else we could discover—especially in a

laboratory setting.”

“Produce more results like this, and you might just get your wish,” I
answered as Slugger started handing out bikes.

“I’m not going to need one of those,” Arial said when he offered. “A bit
slow for my liking.”

“Aye, suit yourself,” said Slugger, pulling it back. “Just felt rude not to

offer.”

We set off, Slugger’s touch making his bike weightless so he could zip
in front of us even though he carried a full pack of water, and Arial hovered

a few feet above the group. Ennia started off wobbling, then straightened

out, her bike starting to turn white as the metal converted to bone.
 “Hollow bones, way lighter,” she said, catching up to Slugger. “I left a

tad of metal in there for a flexible composite. Now I just need to add some

muscles for it to pedal itself, but those would tire out quickly. Maybe if I

had some sugar water, I could keep it going up the mountain.”

“Going to need it if you’re going to keep up!” called Slugger, and

increased his speed. Beneath us, the rock was smooth enough under the

shocks to compare to road, and even without a path, the tires easily found

purchase on its surface. We steered wide away from the cliff face, avoiding

the precipitous drop, and heading towards the great mound of a mountain at

the center. Behind us, the land curved around, leaving just the faintest
inkling that we were on an island and not a large landmass.

“If I had to guess, the top is where he would head,” I said as Slugger

slowed and we fanned out across the rock, falling into a “V” formation.

“Might make sense for us as well, so we can get a look of the island and

watch for him. Two objectives here, remember: find Lucio and find out why

we’re here. Maybe if we get lucky, we can do both at the same time.”

We hit a patch of sand, and Anton nearly sprawled out, his back tire
kicking in a fish tail behind him. So far, he consistently fell behind the

group, puffing as he struggled to keep up. Even with the disparity in years

between us, his bony frame eliminated any advantage, and I suspected that

he had used his dorm gym the same amount before and after it flooded. For
a moment, I considered counteracting the gravity on him as he struggled up

a minor hill, then decided against it. Using my powers while biking had a

greater chance of launching him into the air than lightening his load.

As we approached the mountain in looping switchbacks, the slope

generally growing more steep, the rocks turned jagged and unstable.

Slugger fell back, and I led the group, pushing a dark orb just in front of my
bike to skim over the top layer off the rocks. It resulted in a smooth groove

that naturally attracted the tires, keeping us packed in line as we started the

ascension. Brightly colored red and blue lizards darted out of our path as

they sunbathed in front of us, and we caught the slithering tails of more than

a few snakes that snuck between cracks of stone. A quarter of the way up

the mountain, we stopped, waiting for Anton to catch up, staring out over

the expanse that we had just covered.

“You would think there would be clouds; there’s certainly the humidity

for it,” Anton said, collapsing onto the ground as he arrived. But above,

there was nothing but blue sky, not even a trace of white wisps to separate
us from the beating sun. The heat washed over the stones in a low haze, but

a breeze whipped it away, keeping us just cool enough not to wear down

immediately. The land we had just traversed appeared even more barren

from our height, and little moved across it, minus the lazy reptiles. In the
ocean, not a ship was to be seen, just flat blue. No planes crawled across the

sky, and no sounds other than nature interrupted us.

Here, we had stumbled across desolation. Even in the Amazon, we’d

seen others, and the dense animal life there was far more active to give the

illusion of company.

Arial passed around sunscreen, and Anton gratefully accepted it,

slathering it over his nose and ears before handing it off to Slugger, who

spoke while rubbing it into his arms.

“Oi, good plan. Last thing I want to do is to fight sunburned. You know

how much more a punch hurts when it peels your skin off too? Would not

recommend it.”

“Fighting? Who’s out here to fight?” asked Anton. “I thought we were

just looking for your friend.”

I laughed. “We find ourselves in fights more often than you would

think,” I said. “But I wouldn’t worry. They’re not after you; just hide and

turn Ironclad. It’s us they’re concerned about.”

“Because of your powers?” Anton asked as we started pedaling back up

the mountain once more, racing the sun as it started to descend across the

sky.

“Initially, I’d say so,” I answered, and Slugger piped up from behind.
 “Oi, I’d argue of late it’s more for our personalities! Can’t imagine why;

we seem friendly enough, don’t we, Anton? Not like we had to kidnap you

to keep you around.”

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Chapter 32 SC
“It’s simple notion, the theory of constraints,” said Anton, right before

we took off to start pedaling back up the mountain. “Put the biker in the
front, and the rest fall into an organized line after. So place me ahead of

everyone else, and we’ll stay organized.”

“Oi, or you’ll just pedal slower now, and we can’t speed ya up,” said

Slugger. “You trying to get us to push you while we’re at it?”

“I’m trying to keep us together so we don’t lose another person.”

“And yer fancy schmancy theory is going to do all that?” asked Slugger,

hopping on his bike to lead the pack.

“Look what happened when you didn’t use my theory. You lost

someone,” jabbed Anton. “One less for the count because of it.”
Slugger skidded to a halt, and his eyes narrowed when he turned back.

“Alrighty then, you want to lead, lead,” he said, giving a mock bow and
folding his arm beneath him in a grandiose wave. “Show us the way, all-

knowing professor.”

“Well, I never said I knew the way, just that I can set the pace,” said

Anton, holding back for a second and suddenly unsure. “You can’t blame
me if we take the wrong path.”

“Better hope we don’t fork off behind you then, eh? Be a real shame if

you turned around and no one was there, wouldn’t it? Whole new form of
Singularity theory right there,” Slugger called ahead, then pedaled once

more, keeping up pace.

The going was slow with Anton at the head, and seemed more tiring, as

keeping momentum at reduced speed turned difficult. Twice, Slugger nearly

fell off a cliff as he rode closer to the edge out of sheer boredom, as if
testing how much bike tire he could push into the open air. Once the rocks

under his back tire gave way, and he clamped down on his front brake,

lifting the tire into the air, and pivoting back on the path. Arial swooped

down to catch him, but he sped away instead, leaving only a small rockslide

and the sounds of his whooping behind.

I started searching for shelter three-quarters of the way up, the peak of

the mountain obscured by overhangs. At this point, the sun would soon be

setting, and spending the night in another shelter would be our best option.

Still, not a trace of Lucio was to be found. Ennia spoke as we pedaled,

outlining a plan for the night.

“If we stay up here, we can watch for lights below. Lucio would only

have a few hours head start on us, meaning it is improbable he traversed

farther on foot. Likely, we overcame him, and if he has a flashlight, then

he’ll be easy to spot. Then we send Arial right to him, and the problem is

solved.”
 “Don’t you think we would have seen him if we passed him on the way

up?” I asked, squinting through the falling dusk.

“This is a wide island, with much ground to cover, and he could have

gone in any direction, at a random walk that could leave him where we

started, or right under our noses, or any other direction in between. For our

limited information, there could have been a boat on that beach that he took
before we arrived. But you have seen Lucio—at best, he’s easily distracted.

At worse, he could have gone off chasing after a dragonfly for a few hours.

My best prediction is he’s down there keeping out of the sun and will pop

out sooner or later.”

“Hopefully, before he runs out of water,” I said.

“Hopefully. But we should still have a while before that happens.

Provided he stays in the shade, he can make it a few days. I would imagine

he is managing just fine. Parched, but just fine, and that’s if he brought no

water with him.”

I stared out over the cliff once more, my bike rattling as I passed over a
particularly rough patch of gravel. I looked ahead, wondering if I needed to

take front to clear a path, and saw a bright blue light forming just out of the

corner of my eye.

There are some colors that never belong on a natural landscape. Neons,

that even among flowers, appeared foreign. Shades of green and orange and
yellow that are required to have been made in a lab rather than by nature’s

hand. There’s something as wrong with these shades as there is a straight

line occurring naturally, something that makes them stand out. An

artificiality.

And the electric blue light on the cliffside had that exact quality.

It started small, with rippling wavelike lines coalescing just behind a

boulder, stealing my attention. As I turned, the light flashed suddenly, the

color angry with energy as a beam streaked down the cliffside. It danced

instead of moving in a straight line, pulsating in the half second before it

reached Anton. Then it slammed into the rock just in front of him,

exploding outwards in a sizzling orb that washed over his body, burning the

image of his shadow into the rock face.

Just behind him, Slugger dived behind a nearby boulder, Arial streaked

down the mountain face, and Ennia raised her hands, converting the air to

porous bone in a shield just in front of me. A wall of white sprang upwards

from nothing, growing impossibly fast, the surface pockmarked and ridged.

Blue light washed over it, hot sparks leaping across any voids in the bone,

but crashing down behind us in a wave that washed over the stone. Where

there had once been soil stains, there was now only clean rock, the dirt

scrubbed away as if by pressurized water.

 Then the blue light faded, whispering into the air and streaking back

towards it source, leaving another color behind in its wake. The deep green

of an Ironclad, with Anton frozen mid-fall within, his fingertips just

brushing the ground and his feet still locked in the air.

“Oi!” Slugger shouted, heaving the boulder he had hidden behind over

his head and launching it towards the source of blue light as if it weighed

nothing more than a basketball. “We’ll keep you in front from now on,

Anton. Glad ye volunteered!”

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Chapter 33 SC
Slugger’s boulder ricocheted off the bottom lip of the cliff, bounding

upwards without a thought to gravity, before remembering its own weight

and crashing back down the slope. It bounced twice, missing its initial

target, and rolling back down towards us with increasing speed.

Anton crashed to the ground as he released his power, the green

sublimating off his body in a fizzing mist. He scrambled backwards on his

hands and heels, not a hair on his head singed, and dove behind Ennia’s
bone shield just as the boulder thundered past and continued its course

down the mountain, spraying gravel up behind it.

“I almost died twice! And that blue light was plasma, if I’m not

mistaken,” Anton panted, his eyes wide. “If my shield hadn’t gone up in
time, you would only see bones there!”

“Good thing your shield went up, then, because that packed a punch,” I
said, squinting at the cliff where the light had originated. Dark hair ducked

behind, and I craned my neck over the edge of Ennia’s shield for a better

look, the rest of a face disappearing before I could focus. I scanned the rest

of the cliff’s edge, searching for any more movement, just as Arial rocketed
back up from behind and streaked up the cliff. Too far away to be heard, she

pointed with both hands, one aimed directly at the person hidden behind the

boulder and another twenty yards to the left.

 I generated a dark orb, taking aim for the instant another head would

pop over the ridge, and readied myself as another glow reflected off the

rock. This time, yellow the color of sunlight built from the second position

Arial had indicated, but unlike the blue streak, it grew upwards in a stalk. It

raced towards the sky, splitting several times like a vine, flower buds
forming at each of the diversions. Its tip snaked towards Arial, and she

darted backwards, fleeing as it quested forwards like a burning beacon.

Then the stalk stopped as if it had given up its chase, and each of the

buds changed from yellow to a burning red. There was a chorus of roars

like miniature thunders as the buds detached from the stalk, then streaked
down towards us in a hailstorm, a dozen bulbs of fire raining in a deadly

cascade.

I stretched my orbs into a plane and absorbed one fireball heading

directly towards Ennia’s shield, then darted forwards, avoiding another that

slammed into the rock behind me. It cracked the stone, throwing hot chips

at my calves, where they sizzled and burned my skin. As I ran past, the red

orb fizzed, losing its flame to reveal a cannonball made from what appeared
to be a chunk of porous slag. The other flames struck behind me as Slugger

tossed boulders up to intercepted them. Anton decided that staying green

was his best option for survival, and Arial kept a wary distance from the tip

of the yellow stalk that now advanced once more. Fresh bulbs on the yellow
stalk started to burn bright to replace those that had fallen, and I took aim

with my dark orb, knowing my target was just at the limits of my accuracy.

With all my strength, I launched my orb, but it veered just slightly too

far to the left, barely nicking the base of the golden stalk. The structure

shuddered but remained in place, the glowing bulbs continuing to grow in

intensity and size as I launched a second orb. Just as it left my hand, I

caught a streak of glowing blue in the corner of my eye and generated

another dark orb just beneath my feet. The rock gave way, chewed apart by

hungry orb, and I sank down past my head into the freshly formed hole,

pushing the sphere to the left to make room for my feet. Under layers of

rock, I could feel it humming, just barely under my control due to its

growing size, but stabilized as the rock above and to the sides of it held

firm.

Blue light washed over the hole above me, fizzing in waves that made

my hair stand on end but barely trickled downwards. Through the

shimmering, my second dark orb struck the yellow stalk, severing the base.
The bulbs above dimmed, turning dark grey as they were cut off from their

energy source, and the entire stalk toppled to shatter on the cliff. Only ash

was left behind as it dissipated, along with the cannonball chunks of slag

that rolled harmlessly down the mountain’s cliffs.

 As the blue faded, I hoisted myself upwards, jumping out of the hole to

in time to catch the face behind the boulder. Her hair was cut short, and her

eyes matched the blue that fading from her hands. But under the rock, my
dark orb still answered my call, and I wrenched it upwards in her direction

as she tried to recover.

Before she could fire, the orb streaked like a missile towards her,

exploding just before it reached her boulder as the mass left my control.

Black met residual blue as the forces collided, each trying to consume the

other as space rippled, and the girl fled for cover, leaving me only with a

glimpse of her sandy camouflage shirt as she fled.

“Regroup!” I shouted as Slugger emerged from hiding and Ennia left

her bone shield behind. “On the bikes, now; let’s go! Down the mountain.”

I stood between the others and the cliff face as they assembled,

preparing to flee. With the lower ground and the long switchbacks to reach

our attacker, a charge would be costly. And among the rocks, I saw another

face materialize, one I recognized even before the sun caught his sparkling

features. One that nearly shocked me into an attack.

“That’s right!” Blake laughed down the mountain. “Run while you can,

as you always do, SC! But we have what you’re looking for, and unless you

turn yourself in, you’re never getting it back!”

 I gritted my teeth as our eyes met, preparing a final glowing orb but

knowing that, at this distance, he could easily dodge it. Arial cascaded down

from the sky, catching me under the arms before I had a chance to protest,

as the others were already riding at breakneck speed straight down the

mountain.

Laughter chased us down the decline, but we moved too quick for them

to follow. And as I turned back, the glowing yellow stalk with fiery blooms

rebuilt itself, forming words in that scrawled in cursive across the twilight

sky.

We have him.

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Chapter 34 Lucio
Lucio slunk on the street corner, his attention focused by the bright

lamps lining the street and the red dot of a security camera at the end of the
lane. Two police officers circled the block every fifteen minutes while most

the galleries employed their own security guards, who despite their listless
expressions, were twice as big as him. The passersby streaming through the

walkways seemed wealthy enough, but that posed another problem—they

were too wealthy, and Lucio should have dressed better to blend in with
them. There were too few of them to make a dense crowd, and they kept

their distance when he tried to sidle up against them, their eyes slanted
down at his greedy fingers.

This was the University Showing and Art Sale he had spotted on the
flier, and in terms of valuables, it did not disappoint.

Galleries filled with artists lined the sides of street, some as young as
college students and others with greying hair, all displaying their wares. A

few had small pockets of guests around them as they painted, others smiled

and waved with finished works behind them, but the price tags made

Lucio’s eyes bulge. Even the worst of art was worth at least twenty fast
food dinners for him, with a soda, and the wine that the viewers carried

made them all too eager to pull out their wallets. For a moment, he

considered filching one of the pieces of art behind security tape, each of
them with a name of an artist that had been broadcasted on the flier with

about two too many zeros at the end of their price tag. But then he would

have nowhere to sell it, and the art would do little good hanging in the

subway.

When the police turned the corner, and the camera pointed the opposite
direction, he tried a quick grab—stumbling up against a couple linked arm

and arm, his hand darting into the woman’s purse. But the man took notice,

and before Lucio could react, he was shoved backwards by the shoulder,

sprawling into a canvas that artist that had set up a canvas just beyond the

curb.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” the man warned, a protective hand

moving around his partner’s waist and pulling her away. “Try anything else,

and you’ll have more to worry about than bruises.”

His hand shimmered then, and Lucio knew the threat to be no bluff as

light brushed over his fingers. Looked to be a kinetic-based power by his

guess, something that would make his next hit land far harder. As the couple

walked away, Lucio slipped the wrong date of his partner’s birthday into the
man’s mind out of spite.

Lucio stood before the painter could return, cursing as he looked over

himself. He was covered in paint, and behind him, the canvas was ripped at

the center, a replica of his falling body imprinted into the scene. What had
once been a quiet rippling lake now sported smears from his hands and side

of his face, and a small tuft of his hair stuck to where semidry paint had

pulled it away.

“What is this?” came a voice from behind him, and Lucio whipped

around, preparing to bolt down the alley. A new couple stared at him, the

man old enough to be his father, the woman at least two decades younger.
He was suited, and she wore a dress that trailed to her ankles, a deep red

matched by lipstick and heels so high, they could be stilts.

Lucio opened his mouth, then paused as he lost the words of an excuse.

Surely he could run faster than these two if they posed a threat, and without

thinking, he blurted the first thing that came to his mind as he looked down

at the paint covering him and the ruined canvas behind.

“You know,” he said, shrugging and trying to wipe the paint away, “life

comes at you fast.”

“Life comes at you fast,” mused the man, tilting his head and stroking a

mustache fuller than the hair on his head. “Clever, clever. What a title for
such a work, don’t you think, dearie?”

He turned to his partner, who seemed more interested in the gallery

beyond than the painting, and raised his voice slightly to draw her attention.

“You see, everyone has their image of the perfect life—of the placid, the

undisturbed, their Plato’s perfect form of paradise. But alas, perfection is

not of this world, and who is to blame but our own selves for that action?

Just as his imprint mars his painting, our own vices mar our world, our

defects tear it apart. Humanity's curse upon humanity’s vision, one might
say. For without humanity, there is perfection, but what is perfection

without a judge?”

“Ah,” said his partner, squinting at the painting, her face doubtful. But

the man’s hand was already hovering above his wallet, and Lucio acted fast,

targeting her mind as he pulled upon a strategy.

After Rome, he’d studied up on planting memories—on how to make

them realistic, add emotion, and push conviction. Lynns and Cane had

given him a psychology textbook for him to learn from, and now he utilized

one of the scenarios he had imagined for a pinch. A childhood memory, one

so long before that it could barely pull at the consciousness. The sound of

laughter as the smell of a grill wafted through the air, an ambiguous father

figure flipping burgers on the grill. Smiles as a mother danced towards him,

and they joined hands, sharing a moment encapsulated in memory forever.

But before broadcasting the memory, Lucio tweaked it—adding in the

painting as the backdrop, and a small cabin behind where her family would

have stayed. Then he planted it deep in the woman’s mind and watched her

expression changed as she sensed it, then teased it out, pulling what bits she
could forwards from under years of memories.
 She raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes watering, and her eyes locked

on Lucio.

“Where is this painting based off of?” she asked, breathless.

“A secluded spot in the mountains,” Lucio answered nonchalantly.

“About fifty miles away from here.” He paused, acting like he was thinking,

then broadcasted a name to the memory. Then she spoke at the same time as

him, both saying the same words.

“Morditt’s Lake.”

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Chapter 35 Lucio
Lucio thumbed over the cash as he slid away from the painting, slipping

behind the couple as the man started pointing to the wrinkle lines.
“And there are seven of these trees here, because of man’s seven vices,”

he continued as his wife relived a memory she had never experienced of

Morditt’s Lake.

“It’s like I can see my father’s face again,” Lucio heard her whisper as

he turned a corner and glanced down at the money. For a moment, a twinge
of guilt surfaced into his thoughts, but he pushed it away as he saw the

smile on her face. Sure, he’d taken their money—but he’d also brought
tears of happiness to her eyes, whether they were real or not.

And besides, he could put the money to better use than they could.
Already it felt like it was itching to be spent, as if his fist couldn’t quite

contain it, and that by the time he finished counting, it would be halved.
He’d trusted the man on the amount—he’d paid far more than the painting

had been worth, assuming that the zero on the end had been for dollars. But

since they had been cents, a few bills less would be no concern.

A smile broke out on his face as he stuffed wads of money into his
pocket, not even bothering to fold it neatly. Slugger would be shocked.

Then he stopped, his hand still around the full amount. Shocked

wouldn’t be enough—no, he wanted Slugged livid with jealousy. And if he

had made this much in ten minutes, how much could he make in an entire

night?

He peered down the busy alleyway, noting that even in the last twenty

minutes, the crowd had swelled as trendy eateries down the street released

their dinner crowds. More wallets were heading his way, wallets ripe for the
taking. His mind raced as he scanned the artists selling their wares, ignoring

the expensive ones or those that seemed too niche. He wanted broad, which

would make it easier to design memories around them, and cheap.

His eyes came to rest halfway down on a university student that seemed

to shy away from the crowds, relying instead upon his paintings to make
conversation for him. Unfortunately, they proved even less suitable to the

task than he—even to Lucio’s untrained mind, the colors clashed, the scenes

appeared as if they had been taken by a camera with a shattered lens, and he

found the shapes of smashed gum on the sidewalk more interesting than

their contents. The student avoided Lucio’s eye as he approached, and he

had to clear his throat twice to demand his attention.

“I’m interested,” Lucio simply said, throwing his eyes wide. The
student flinched as if Lucio were going to hit him, then tried to find the

artwork that he meant.

“In, erm, which one?” the student asked, slightly stammering, and

arranging stacks of fliers on the table to form makeshift barrier between

him and Lucio.

“In your style!” Lucio exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite

like it. It’s unique!”

It was anything but, yet the young man mustered a weak smile, bowing

his head slightly.

“Well, thanks,” he said. “Not many appreciate it here. So far, I have

only sold one print.”

“Well, they are fools. I know talent when I see it,” Lucio continued.

“Look, I may be young, but my father sends me to these art shows

searching for new talent. He doesn’t have the time, you see, to separate the

wheat from the chaff on his own.”

“Your father?” asked the young man, and Lucio nodded solemnly.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he said, lowering his voice. “But I don’t

want to speak his name around here. If word got out that he was scouting

this show, well, the natural order would be ruined! Too many artists would

arrive from out of state, and my father likes his art local. Anyway, the point
is this—he wants a full stack to go through when I return, and he believes in

scarcity. If you’re to be the next Picasso, can’t have extra copies of your

work just floating around the streets, can we?”

“I don’t think I understand,” the student said, taken aback, but Lucio

pressed on.
 “Look, I can’t just buy one of your works. I need all of them. It has the

added bonus that my father will see the full representation of your style.

Thing is, though, I’m not sure if I have enough cash on me. My father only
gave me enough to buy out two artists, and you’re number three. Maybe we

can strike a bulk deal?”

“Let me get this straight,” said the young man as Lucio bounced from

foot to foot with impatience. “You want to buy everything here?”

“And your secrecy, of course. After the deal, you’ll have to leave for

tonight. Simply by speaking to me, some of my father’s rivals might take

note. So for this deal to go through, I can’t have you talking to any other

artists or buyers here tonight. In fact, you should leave immediately. Father

likes his secrets.”

“Who exactly did you say—” started the young man, but stopped as

Lucio pulled out the wad of cash from his pocket and started to count it on

the tabletop. Just a quarter of the way through counting, he knew that he

had overvalued the artist’s work. And he continued to speak as the bills

formed a fan, licking his fingers to help spread them out and maximize their

size.

“Now, I understand this might be a hard bargain for you. But like I said,

I know potential when I see it. And trust me when I say this—I see potential
in your work unlike anything you might imagine.”
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Chapter 36 Lucio
“The last time I saw anything like this was nearly a decade ago, and I

haven’t found it since! An estate auction, and I lost the bid. I shan’t be
repeating that mistake again. Do you know what the last one went for,

dearie?”
The woman wore earrings that dangled down to her shoulder blades,

and her husband grimaced as she pawed at her purse, skeptical as he looked

over the painting. In what should have been a spray-painted city skyline,
tabs from pop cans ripped through the canvas, the bottom had been scraped

along cement, and the contents of a soft drink dried in the center.
Simply put—it was trash. Lucio knew it, and her husband knew it.

But the wife’s memory suggested otherwise.

“I saw another at a gala, it went for ten thousand! Are those tabs what I

think they are?”

“Collected from the dumpsters behind the bars of all parts of the city.”

Lucio said, and she beamed. “Of course, not everyone understands their

significance.”

“Meant to symbolize the plague of alcoholism on our society! Each

drink ripping the canvas just like they rip families apart. The scraping on

the bottom from the weight of whiskey pulling us down, and of course the

spilled drink to represent the blurred lines of intoxication.”

 “Well, I must say,” Lucio responded with a low bow as her husband

looked down at the rock glass filled with mixed drink that he was holding,

guilt flashing across his face, “I am impressed!”

And he was impressed. He had only sent her the memory of seeing the

painting being auctioned, and thrown in that the money would be providing
for the recovering addicts, but her mind had filled in the rest of the details

on its own. After he’d bought the painting from the student, he’d just beat it

on the ground, accidentally spilled on it, and sprinkled trash on top. But the

incomplete memory actually caused her to see something—and see it with

conviction.
“How much to part with it?” she asked, noticing the lack of a price tag,

and Lucio could hear the groan before it escaped her husband’s lips while

he protested.

“Honey, where in god’s name are we going to put this?”

“Why, the living room, Charles. We agreed on that when you chose the

ottoman that I’d choose the art.”

“Yes, but the ottoman doesn’t smell,” he said, and Lucio piped up
before she had a chance to respond.

“Why should art be limited to just the visual sense? It’s about the full

experience.”
 “He’s right; we don’t live life watching from behind windows,” she

snapped back. “It will add a touch of reality to the droll of suburbia.”

“You know what else could add a touch of reality? Maybe we just

empty out the kitchen trash on the carpet.”

“Keep that up and you’ll be sleeping on your precious ottoman. The

color is horrendous, so it suits you.”

His face turned red, but the husband shut his mouth, and Lucio returned

to the question on price.

“Of course, true art cannot be valued,” Lucio said. “Who am I to put a

price on something that I do not own? Can I truly call what the world

inspired me to create my own property? No, I cannot—it is as much stolen

as it is borrowed. For you, I ask you to simply pay me what you think is

appropriate. What you think it is worth.”

“The one at auction sold for ten grand—” started the wife, but the

husband cut her off.

“Marla! The one at auction was probably someone famous. We are not
paying ten grand for this.”

“Consider it more of a donation,” Lucio pressed. “But, of course, I

wouldn’t dream of asking for such a high number.”

“Does, does four fifty work?” Marla asked, and Lucio faked a grimace.
 “Rent is hard, but if that is what you think it is worth, then I

understand.”

“More like four dollars fifty cents,” muttered Charles, and in spite,
Marla pulled another fifty from her purse.

“Five hundred clean, then, because you had to endure him. I have to do

it every day.” She winked at Lucio, then turned back to Charles. “It’s my

money from giving piano lessons, anyway. Besides, art appreciates, honey.

Consider it an investment. Should pay off much better than your portfolio

accounts, shouldn’t it?”

“That was from the recession. There’s no way I could have predicted

that,” he retorted, and Marla took the painting, handing it to him to carry.

And as they walked away, Lucio chuckled to himself, counting his total

cash. That had been the fifth painting he had sold that night, and not even

the most expensive. The best was when two couples had started a bidding

war, each trying to outdo the other, to flaunt their wealth in the other’s face.

To them, money seemed to be just paper, as worthless as he considered the

paintings behind him.

“I see you are the star of the show tonight,” said a new man, walking

forwards, a cigar hanging from his lip. Lucio straightened up and stuffed the

cash into his pocket as he continued to speak. “I’ve seen at least two patrons
purchase your work, and already the Konilis are showing it off over

cocktails. What, may I ask, is your secret? Your education?”

Lucio stiffened under his gaze, noticing that for the first time that night,

someone’s attention was on him instead of the paintings behind him. Then

he cleared his throat, feigned disinterest, and spoke more to the air than the

man in front of him.

“What can I say? Art is in the eyes of the beholder. I just help them

see.”

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Chapter 37 Lucio
Lucio dumped another one of the drinks into the flowerpot behind him,

wondering if the enormous fern was getting drunk. Could plants get drunk?
He wasn’t sure, but he apologized for the taste. In the last hour, he had

discovered that he hated gin but loved its effects.

On other people, that was.

Already, he couldn’t believe his fortune. He’d sold every last one of his

paintings after the man stopped to talk with him, each time the value rising,
a small crowd pretending to be interested in the vendors around him but

casting sidelong glances his way. He’d even sold the blank canvas he’d
bought then burned in patches with a matchstick, claiming that the shapes

had some significance. Out of all of them, that was closest to an actual
Lucio original.

The man had stood off to the side of his table as more and more
customers visited, and Lucio immediately noticed that their eyes flicked to

him in between questions. Some smiled and shook his hand, addressing him

by name. Mr. Corinago, they called him, and Lucio drew several jealous

glances from other passing students. But it wasn’t until the fourth customer
passed introductions that Lucio realized just who the man was —the same

Corinago whose name had been on the flier, and who had sponsored the

entire event.
 Until that point, he’d annoyed Lucio, becoming a source of strain every

time he made a sale. As Lucio worked the potential customers, giving the

memories they needed to goad their purchase, he’d had to broadcast a

separate set to Corinago as well. If he claimed that he’d spent a summer in

Spain searching for motivation among the waves of the Mediterranean, then
he would drop the name of a false restaurant and plant a memory in

Corinago of having read a review of the place. If he mentioned a professor

that had tutored him at another school, then Corinago would be able to just

grasp the strings of a memory with that professor ten years prior. Not

enough to make him suspicious; just enough that in case he searched, it

would be there.

Clues, but not enough of a full picture for inconsistencies.

As the night wore on, and Lucio’s pockets grew fatter, he noticed

Corinago had pulled aside one of his paintings, claiming it while turning it

towards the street as a personal token, as if he had marked his territory.

“You realize, more than half of these sales are from my patronage,”

Corinago said, showing yellowed teeth as he smiled at Lucio between

customers. “As an unknown artist, that must be worth quite the fortune to

you. Of course, I could walk away at any time—but spare me this painting

as a sign of thanks, and I might just stay here the night. Maybe your name

would make it on the flier for the next sale.”

 “You want that one for free?” Lucio said, aghast. “That one is my very

best. Worth more than half the others put together! Do you know how long

that took me to make?” Ten seconds, he thought, but “Ten days,” he said.

“And am I not worth the time?” asked Corinago, putting his chin out in

taken offense. “Think, boy, at how much more valuable your other paintings

would be once this one enters The Corinago Galleria. Would you not want
your very best there? Think of it more as a loan, as me borrowing it.”

Lucio bowed, making a show of swallowing his words. “Of course, of

course! Klistat used to always tell me that the greatest currency is

reputation.”

Shock crossed Corinago’s face, and he took a small step back.

“You knew Klistat before he died?” he asked, practically before Lucio

had sent the entire memory to him. Lucio waited a moment to answer, until

he had planted the images of several pictures akin to his own in Corinago’s

mind, as well as an obituary and museum showing.

“Just before he died,” sighed Lucio. “Held an apprenticeship in his

workshop for only six weeks before cancer took him. Best healers in the

country came to try and fix him, but you know Klistat. Always liked to use

the leaded paints, and just got to him one day.”

“Indeed, a tragedy,” said Corinago, moving the painting closer to

himself as he considered the deal won. “But to honor his name, how about a
drink? After the show, of course.”

And that was how Lucio had been offered his first glass of gin behind

the waiter’s back, which he had spit back into the cup, the flavor like a
liquified pine needle tree. Then came the second glass along with dinner as

Corinago asked for more stories about the famous Klistat, but by glass

three, dominated the conversation with stories of his own achievements,

which Lucio pretended to understand. By glass four, he’d offered Lucio a

position as his assistant, and to sponsor furthering his education as a greater

donation to the arts. And at glass five, they moved to another bar, one

hidden down beneath one of the galleries with a guard at the door, who only

accepted names from a list. At Corinago’s request, Lucio’s name was added

in ink, along with the promise for a free gin anytime he visited. At Lucio’s

request for money instead of gin, they’d laughed as if he’d told the funniest

joke in the entire world, which seemed to be a side effect of the liquor.

But the other effect of the gin was that others immediately took to any

memory Lucio broadcasted them. All suspicion seemed eradicated, and his

tales grew in boldness with each passing glass. And with Lucio’s mind still

sharp, and theirs dulled, their gullibility turned their thoughts to clay in his

hands.

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Chapter 38 Lucio
“And that is why when the Queen of England removes her crown, a tiny

folded painting tucked between her forehead and the gold itself falls out to
the floor. Keeps it there ever since I drew it on a napkin for her, at her

banquet.”
“Corinago, Cory, ole story Cory,” slurred one of the guests, one who

had bought some of Lucio’s art earlier and had bartered with him

throughout the night to commission a second. “I’ll believe a lot, but this?
This goes too far. His work is not that good.”

“I would think the queen would know better than you, wouldn’t she?”
Lucio quipped, and the man’s face turned red. “Look, I’m not saying it was

great—I’m saying that it touched her heart. Very different things, you
understand. She told me that no one had ever sketched her cat Puddles

before. And so I did. She loved that cat and didn’t start putting it into her
crown until after he died.”

“Oh, I remember Puddles!” exclaimed another woman in the party. “The

tabby? Isn’t that the one that saved the prince’s life?”

“No other, the very one. Lured him away from kidnappers in the
gardens. Only cat to be knighted, I believe,” said another in the party.

Lucio suppressed a smile, amazed at the ease of his power after they

were a few drinks deep. Not only would they bite into any story, but he
could broadcast far more memories without tiring. Where a mind might

naturally resist in the past, all barriers had been removed from them, and he

could spin memories to multiple people as fast as his tales.

“Tall tales or no, I can see value on this one,” said Corinago, placing a

hand on Lucio’s shoulder. “He shined like a beacon when I walked past his
stand! True value, mind you, emotional value.”

“What’s that?” Lucio asked, distracted as another guest tried to hand

him a drink, while a waitress passed with a plate of shrimp. Without

hesitation, he chose the shrimp.

“Of course, you must have realized I am an Appraiser!” boasted

Corinago. “Means I can see value on objects like colors. Take these

whiskeys there, on the top shelf—some shine like burning stars, the ones

that cost a day’s work for a glass. Others, not so much, like swill that fills a

glass. But, ah, the true test is back in my collection house. For that is where

I can judge value intrinsically, not so much what others think of it.”

“More of those,” Lucio said through a full mouth of shrimp to the

waitress, turning back to see Corinago’s annoyance at having only half his
attention. “Oh, sure, sure, collection house. Yeah, sounds like a good idea.”

“I don’t think you are following,” said Corinago. “You see, in my

house, your art will be placed next to the greats. It will be a true litmus test

of its value, not its street value, but what it’s actually worth. And with my
stamp of approval on that—boy, you could become famous overnight! In

fact, after this drink, what do we all say we take a, hm, preliminary

appraisal? I’ll pop the twenty-year-old bottle for the occasion. It’s not every

day you find a gem. Maybe you could even make a fresh painting. My

senses are always strongest when the artifact is new. Takes away the

influence of aging.”
The tail of a shrimp fell out of Lucio’s mouth, leaving a trail of cocktail

sauce down his shirt as the others looked on expectantly.

“But what price can you truly put on art—” he started as Corinago cut

him off, slapping his back.

“Don’t be foolish, boy—of course you can! The price of auction!”

Around, the other guests laughed, and Lucio suddenly became aware

that he was wedged deepest into their booth, with two guests on either side

of him. They were in the corner of the restaurant, the exit at the far end, a

sea of tables between them and the street.

“But maybe just a small trial here for an initial test,” suggested
Corinago, clearing away a spot in front of Lucio, moving the plates upon

plates of appetizers he had consumed that night. “A quick napkin sketch, if

you will.”

One of the guests pulled a ballpoint pen from her purse, along with a

sketchpad, depositing it in front of Lucio.

 “Now, you all know the rules. No cheating,” Corinago announced to the

table. “Eyes closed, everyone, or your own perceptions will throw off the

value of the art.”

“Seems like a lot of pressure,” Lucio said, dropping the pen. “I’m not

really sure if I can. I mean, you’ve given me plenty to drink.”

“Nonsense, boy, nonsense. It’s simply a proof of concept, an indicator to

your potential. Aren’t you curious?”

“Well, of course I am,” said Lucio, combing his mind for memories that

he could broadcast. But the crowd looked on eagerly, the pen was already in

his hand, and no solution would work for all of them at once. Especially if

their eyes were closed.

“Then get on to it,” said Corinago, leaning over to stare as Lucio

touched the pen to the paper. Lucio raised his finger, calling for a pause.

“Wait. I hate to admit this, but I do have a secret.”

“Go on,” said Corinago. “All secrets have value.”

“I—erm, I can’t paint.” Lucio said. “Not in public, that is. I get too

nervous if I am watched. The rest of them are closing their eyes, so can you

do that too? If you want my best work, I need at least a minute.”

“Well, of course! A minor suggestion. To set your timer, you have until

the next drinks are poured.” He raised his hand, motioning to the waiter,
then his own eyelids fell. The table waited patiently, and Lucio made a few
scratching sounds at the paper, signaling the start of his work, while waving

a hand in front of Corinago’s face to ensure he was not peeking.

Then he dipped beneath the table, navigated the legs under the table

cloth, stuffed a shrimp he had dropped earlier into his mouth, and fled to the

exit.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 39 Lucio
When Lucio arrived back at the subway, it was well past midnight, and

he fumbled around near the entrance for one of the flashlights. He crept
down the tunnel with his hand obscuring the beam, using just enough light

to avoid bumping into the walls. On his way back, the store he had visited
had been closed. Now everyone would be asleep, and he wanted to return

the next morning for maximum effect.

He couldn’t even hear snoring when he tiptoed past the makeshift

rooms, cursing under his breath as he stubbed a toe and hopped on one foot,

taking his entire concentration not to scream the cuss words aloud. But he
reined in the pain, navigated the crinkly snack wrappers that decorated the

floor of his room, and slid into bed. He set the alarm for early, lowering the
volume and putting it on his chest to not wake the others. He’d return just

as they came out of bed.

For an hour, he almost couldn’t sleep, the thoughts of the money still in

his pocket picking at his consciousness whenever he started to drift. In his

mind, he’d already selected exactly what he wanted, and had rehearsed a

few potential quotes for the unveiling. But eventually, sleep claimed him
until his alarm clock chirped, and he bolted out of bed the next morning

with the speed of a track star.

 That early, he was the only one awake in the subway, even rising before

the sun. He had to use the flashlight to escape, as well as halfway to his

destination, until light finally broke the horizon. He remembered the path to

the pawn shop easily—he’d already rehearsed this moment a dozen times in

his mind as he sold his paintings, living each step as he made up another
falsity about why he had chosen a scene, or how his pigments were made

from the crushed inked love notes of a thousand young couples, or how a

painting had literally saved his life in his travels when he’d used it to charm

a pursuing bear. When he arrived, he found the door locked and the sign on

the door indicating he had to wait a full hour until they opened.
That hour seemed the longest in Lucio’s life. He’d brought nothing for

entertainment, leaving his psychology book behind, and the street bare of

anything that might take his eye off the ticking clock visible through the

shop window. Despite the dragging seconds, there was not enough time to

return to the subway, and he only spared five minutes to dart inside an

opening doughnut shop down the street before rushing back to the

storefront. He wouldn’t risk his prize being sold, and if the pawn shop
opened early, he wanted to be there.

It opened late.

Lucio watched the owner approach down the street with feet shuffling

so slow, it was as if they were in slow motion, his hand already on the door
knob as the owner entered the shop from the back. The owner checked the

register, then dusted off the desk, organizing his papers and sitting for ten

minutes as he read the newspaper. Lucio’s legs started trembling as his

bladder complained for a chance to leak, but refused to move from his post,

glaring at the owner and bumping into the door just enough for the bell

above to chime. Then the owner reached the last page and stood, walking to
the door and glancing at Lucio with sleep in his eyes as he fumbled for the

keys.

“We’re not hiring,” he started, but Lucio slipped past him, sprinting past

the rows of knickknacks, instruments, and tools that lined the shelves of the

shop. His money practically burned his hands as he ripped it from his

pocket, and he stood in front of his prize, bouncing on his toes as he

counted to the number on the price tag.

“Here, take it!” Lucio said, thrusting the wad at the shop owner, whose

eyebrows shot upwards.

“What’s the hurry? Is this some sort of dirty money? Where did you get
all this?” he asked, suspicious.

“Worked for it. Mine, fair and square. But I really want that, and you

have it, and I’m not even stealing it.”

“Are you even old enough for that?” the owner asked, and Lucio sighed,

blasting the man with a memory so powerful, it burned as it erupted from

his mind.

“I already showed you my license,” Lucio said, and waved the cash

under the owner’s eyes. “Now, can we finish this? I have places to be.”
“Well, you’ll sure get there fast enough in that deathtrap, if you ask me.

Your parents know about this?”

“Does it matter? I have money.”

“Suppose not, seeing you’re eighteen,” the owner answered, then

shuffled back to his desk, pawing through folders of paperwork then

walking one to the copier, handing Lucio a stack when he was finished.

“We’ll need your signature in each of the highlighted sections. This

absolves me from liability, this confirms you understand that this is sold as

is, this is what you’ll need for registration.”

The pen flew across the paper as Lucio signed, his mark more a scribble

than a name, reading not a single word on each of the pages. Then the

storekeeper unlocked the chains holding his prize in place and paused

before handing the necessary papers back to Lucio.

“I’ve got a guy who can paint over this for fifty dollars more,” he said.

“Could give you a nice solid color, make it look much more sleek. Tell you

what, I’ll even do it for free, since you didn’t have the sense to negotiate.”

But Lucio had already stepped in front of the owner, his jaw falling
open in outrage.
“Paint over? No way! I bought it for the flames!”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 40 Lucio
Not a soul between the pawn shop and the subway slept in as Lucio

rocketed past the city blocks, the engine roaring beneath him, his thighs
clamped tight over the seat as vibrations traveled up his spine to set his

teeth chattering.
Slugger had said no to the motorcycle due to its price, but Lucio had

proven him wrong. He’d also insinuated that Lucio wouldn’t be able to

drive the thing, and it was time to prove him wrong there too. Little did
Slugger know, Lucio actually had some experience.

Back in his days robbing the streets, some of his handlers had lent him a
scooter so he could alter memories on the fly. Perhaps they’d be bargaining

over the price of a car, and Lucio would fly by, subtly altering the seller’s
memory to drive down the asking value. Or maybe the police would be

about to make an arrest, and he’d need to place in their minds a piece of
irrefutable evidence that would render the crime void. Sure, a scooter and a

motorcycle weren’t quite the same thing. But they were, mostly.

Except the motorcycle moved way faster.

Lucio nearly wiped out as he cranked his wrist, throwing his weight to
the side and making a sharp turn like he’d seen in the movies, the bike

wobbling beneath him as he clipped a curb. This model had been built for

speed—he could feel it, from the way the seat seemed to naturally tilt him
forwards against the handlebars, to the immediate acceleration at his barest

beckoning. The front tire came off the ground more than once when the

engine leapt to life, sending a thrill down him like a lightning bolt as he

seized control once again. Within moments, it seemed as if the tires were a

part of him, commanding the road to whip by, sprinting faster and faster as
he neared the subway. And all too soon, he reached the entrance, his cheeks

already hurting from the smile that faltered on his face.

Then the corner of his mouth twitched upwards again, and he whipped

around, taking the motorcycle for another lap. Urging it faster, weaving in

and out of cars starting their morning commute and blaring their horns at
him, dodging traffic cones like sports drills. He saw the blue lights flashing

out of the corner of his eye as he veered right at an intersection, the wind on

his helmetless hair more nearly cutting him at this speed, and whipped

around in his seat.

The sudden motion rocked the bike, and it wobbled again, nearly

catching its edge before he righted it. This was far more sensitive than

scooters, far more responsive to his touch. But the quick glance behind had
been all he needed to spot the two police cars trying to pursue him through

traffic. At the next stoplight, he turned, releasing full acceleration as he

disappeared behind a row of buildings, splitting a group of pedestrians

attempting to cross the street. And as he passed, he blasted a memory of

him traveling the other direction into their minds, turning to see them

pointing and shouting down an empty side street.

The police would see that, gaining him precious few extra seconds

while they investigated.

He laughed, nearly taking his hands off the handlebars but stopping

himself at the last minute. This wasn’t like the fears that had plagued him
over the past few months—such as the idea of Transients lurking in the

shadows. Those always had the unknown present, the bits and pieces of

reality beyond his control. That was what he liked about memories—you

knew what you knew and what you didn’t. And on the bike, he knew what

he could control.

He coasted the rest of the way, keeping the engine quiet as he took back

alleys, making sure he wasn’t tailed. Then he returned to the subway,

walking the motorbike in through the entrance. It took him three tries to get

it past SC’s protective spatial knot in the tunnel, but he barely managed,

twisting the bike just the right way like a stubborn couch trying to enter
through an apartment door. Then he was in, and triumphant as he strutted

into the main tunnel.

He opened his mouth, ready to make his grand announcement, but only

just barely stopped himself before SC’s mother could spot him. She was

reading at the table perpendicular to him, and he shrank back into the
shadows and away from her eyes. Just last week, she’d taken a rusty

pocketknife that Lucio had found on the street away from him, saying he

could get it back when he was older. He’d found that when going through
the trash the next day. The motorcycle would be no different.

So he waited, his memory of rushing through the streets above just

barely keeping him from bursting with excitement. SC would be amazed,

Slugger would be pissed, and Ennia—well, she liked machines. Maybe she

would be impressed.

Just as Lucio thought he could wait no more, SC’s mother stood, then

made for the tunnel that led to the showers and bathroom. He would have to

move quick, and as soon as she disappeared, he ran with the bike to his

room, then froze, wishing he had thought where to hide it. With only a

curtain separating it from the outside, and SC’s mother always invading to

pick up his wrappers, it would surely be noticed.

So instead, he moved deeper into the tunnel, towards where Peregrine’s

machine was located. Here, he could produce it just before they left on their

next mission. As a gift. He’d leave it right by the packs, where it would be

the perfect surprise, and—and he froze, staring at where the packs should

be. Instead of a neat row, they were missing, along with some of the

emergency supplies they had gathered. His eyes turned to Peregrine’s

machine, and where the portal had once been beach, it was now dark.
 Panic washed over him as he ran over —they had left without him. He’d

missed them, and they’d closed the portal! But then he realized that the

portal was not closed, only dark—that it now pointed into what looked like

a cave, with a shimmering at the end that promised daylight. He stepped

through, entering the new world, smelling the sea breeze and rushing to the

deserted cave’s entrance. SC and the team were nowhere to be seen, but it

looked like the island he had nearly entered earlier, just with SC having

moved the portal. Then they’d left, presumably on an adventure. And now

Lucio would have to make up ground.

He started to leave the cave, breaking into a jog, then laughed as he

turned back towards the portal. If he had to make up ground, there were

faster ways to do that than jogging.

Like motorcycles.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 41 SC
“Just saying, if I were them, baiting you into saving your friend is

exactly what I would be doing,” said Anton as Arial returned from her flight
around the mountain. Any time she approached too close, the glowing stalk

of light extended out like a frog’s tongue seeking a fly, and she’d had to dart
away before its whip-like end could catch her.

I ignored Anton as the remainder of the group huddled together, our

minds processing the events of the last hour. Ennia and I had hollowed out a
large boulder for protection, creating a room that blended with our

surroundings. We gathered around a stone table left standing in the center,

and Ennia had run her fingers over it, each of them producing a different

color on the surface.

“Metal contaminants,” she explained, tracing her finger in a circle that

left a trail of blue behind it. “Cobalt here. Copper for the trees, making
green. Iron for the mountain, coloring that red since it was once a volcano.

And purple potassium for the portal back home.”

She finished completing the rough map, then marked our current

position with a small black “X.” Already, she’d moved the “X” once after
Arial took off and had revealed our location. For the next ten minutes, we

stuck to the shadows as Slugger lifted the boulder on his shoulders, grunting

under the weight, and moved it a quarter of a mile like an enormous hermit
crab. In the darkness, tracking the movement would be impossible from the

mountainside, concealing our location.

“Arial, what’s the situation up there?” I asked as she settled inside the

boulder, and the light dimmed. “And, Anton, keep that light coming.”

Green light flared as he sighed, coming from the shield around his left
arm. “You realize that this isn’t what my power is intended for? It’s like

chopping down a tree to make a toothpick.”

“Well, in this case, we need a toothpick,” I said, and Slugger gestured

out the door.

“Whole lotta darkness out there if you want to get ambitious and light
that up,” he said. “Make a nice beacon and draw ‘em away so we can

attack.”

“Not what I meant,” said Anton, straightening his glasses with his still

mobile arm, and Arial began to speak.

“As far as I can tell, the vast majority of this island is natural. There are

no roads, no docks, no boats—nothing. All except for one part, and I barely

got a glimpse of that.

“Way up at the top of the mountain, inside the crater at its tip, there’s a

house—or rather a cabin. The lights are on, but as far as I can tell, there’s

no power lines anywhere here. With no roads, so I don’t know how it would
have been built—it gets more rocky and steep towards the top, no way you

could just drive a thick tired truck up without flipping.”

“Maybe it’s constructed from natural materials,” said Ennia, but Arial

shook her head.

“You’ve seen there aren’t any trees here. No, it was made of wood.

Unless they cut down every last tree here to make it, then I don’t think
that’s where it came from.”

“Then it must have been powers or an air drop, then,” said Ennia. “And

either way, it’s extremely expensive this far out in the ocean.”

“Just the sort of thing that our rich prophet would plan far in advance,” I

said, and stuck my thumb on the tip of the mountain on the stone table.

“That must be where we need to go; that’s where whatever Arachne wants

us to find is. More than likely, that’s where they’re keeping Lucio too.”

“Now hold on,” said Anton, hooking his finger in his shirt pocket. “Did

you see those powers? We have no idea what they are capable of.”

“Oi, spoiler alert,” said Slugger, pointing his finger at my chest. “I bet
you a thousand to one odds that those are SC’s space friends. Never seen

powers like those before.”

“Nothing worse than what we’ve handled before,” I said, and Anton’s

jaw fell open, flabbergasted.

 “We haven’t even seen what you are capable of doing, how do you

know what they are?” he stammered. “They could be way worse than

anything you’ve ever seen!”

“And I’ve made some progress to close that gap,” I said, flexing my

power, watching as time slowed just a fraction in front of me, the

shimmering patterns on Anton’s green shield swirling at a minorly reduced

speed.

“But nothing compared to what you could be. If you wait, imagine what

else we could discover.”

“Unless you have any leads—”

“I do! I saw you almost do it in the fight back there, but I don’t think

you knew what you were doing at that time. I think you were anchoring

space somehow, almost like a fishing net, with weights at the end that fold

up at the center whenever your power was near those falling metal balls.

Creating a sort of pocket in the interaction between them.”

“Well, I already have one of those,” I said, pointing to above my wrist

to where I kept the black orbs stored. There, I’d always folded a tiny bit of

space in upon itself, inverting it in such a way that I could always tuck

away prepared orbs for a fight.

“Then I think it’s time you start using it,” he said, then added,
“Strategically, that is. Give me one hour.”
 I looked to Ennia, Arial, and Slugger, and they nodded.

“One hour delay,” I answered. “And until then, I want you three

determining the best way for us to get up that mountain, alive.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 42 SC
I led Anton out of the boulder, slinking around the side, the night nearly

dark enough for us to walk in the open. We stole around a ridge, then down
into a small ravine, Anton’s hand glowing with just enough light to

illuminate the ground in front of us and shrouded by his sleeve.

“This will do,” he said where the ground leveled, dragging the sole of

his foot across the stone to kick away any debris. “Now, we have some

time, so let’s do a course on physics, to get you into the right mindset.”
I sighed, shaking my head.

“Listen, Anton, I know you’re trying to help here. I know you want me
to understand your viewpoint, maybe so that you can learn more from me

too. But here’s the deal.” I gestured up towards the mountain, working
patience into my voice. “Our time is short. These people, we’ve been

fighting them for some time now, and it’s never come out like we’ve
planned. Now they have one of us hostage, and with each passing hour, he’s

in more danger. So if what you show me can get me up there, it’s worth it.

But I don’t need to understand how—even without knowing the density of

water, a fish can swim.”

“Fine,” said Anton, pulling a grimace. “But when this is all over, you

owe me. I still want my lab hours.”

“Of course,” I said, and thought, If this is ever over.

 From his pockets, Anton pulled out two balls of metal and tossed them

down onto the cleared ground, where they dropped with a clink.

“I picked these up as we fled the fight, and performed a quick analysis.

Nothing professional, mind you, so my results are by no means accurate

beyond hypothetical speculation. But there were some quick tests.”

“These are the balls of fire that came raining down on us from one of

the Specials?” I asked, nudging one with my foot. “I’ve never seen metal

burn like that.”

“Precisely,” Anton answered. “Because it doesn’t. But it is metal, and

heavy ones at that. My rudimentary tests include hardness, scratching the

surface to check for passive oxidation, and a rough estimate on density.

And, well, even gustatory.”

“Gustawhat?”

“Erm, taste,” he admitted, turning slightly red.

“You licked this?”

“I tested it,” he clarified. “And that’s what science demanded. Anyway,

what’s important is this—these are heavier metals. Iron and lead and up, if I
had to guess. Now, they don’t burn, but assuming your new acquaintance is

also from space, there is another explanation. That they are formed by air,

by elements combining in fusion within stars. That light he produces, I’m

assuming, is star stuff, the fusion reaction—and this is the result. Of course,
this would normally be somewhat radioactive if it actually was created

naturally, but if it were, I don’t think anyone else would dare to be around

him.”

“And if they did?”

“Then they would be dead, or dying. So would we. Me first, after

licking it. But we shouldn’t worry about that, because if we are, then it’s
likely already too late. And I suspect there would be burns over my hands,

which there are not. Anyway, that power is besides the point—what I want

to talk about is yours. And you’ll have to forgive me, but a crash course in

physics is absolutely required here.”

“Teach away, then. I’m listening.”

“That pocket you have above your wrist? That’s a fold in space. Now,

that’s incredibly impressive on its own—essentially, you tucked space in on

itself, and are keeping something inside. It’s almost like a water balloon, but

the sides are impenetrable—not because they’re strong, but because space

itself bends in on itself. A bomb could go off inside, and so long as you kept
it sealed, I would have no idea. You follow?”

“Not exactly; elaborate for me. But not too technical.”

“Think of it this way—trying to get out of that spatial pocket is like

trying to climb into the air without a ladder. There’s nothing to grip, nothing

to hold on to. You can throw as much force into the air as you want, but it’s
not going to do anything to help you climb. Now, have you ever created

anything else like this?”

“Sure, back home. In the subway, I was able to wrap the teleportation
lines of the portals around to bend space.”

Anton waved a hand impatiently, dismissing the thought.

“No, no. I mean, on your own, not in weird circumstances. Interactions

between powers are too unpredictable for me to form a hypothesis. Say,

could you actually try creating another now? A big one?”

“On my own, no. And honestly, I’m not sure how I would create

another. It just sort of, well, happened. And there’s no way I could make

one big; trying to bend space like that is difficult. I can stretch a little of it,

but too much is difficult to pull apart.”

“Exactly as I suspected,” said Anton triumphantly. “You see, during

your fight, I noticed something. Something abnormal. When you used your

power, the air around these metal balls shimmered, moved almost like a

heat wave. Now, these are points of density, areas where space is already

being curled in from additional matter slightly more than usual. In a way,

think of them as aids to bending space.”

“So, what, you want me to chuck them at the enemy and fold them up in

space pockets?” I asked, laughing. But Anton’s face stayed serious.

“More or less, that’s exactly what I want you to do.”
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 43 SC
Four metal balls lay before us on the rocky ground, each at the edge of a

circle, and Anton had filled in the gaps around them with larger stones the
size of his head. In the center of the ring, he dropped his pocket calculator,

the contraption resembling a shrine to a pagan mathematical god. He

cleared away any other debris, making it as flat as possible, and I had

helped him stack a reserve of additional heavy stones in a mound on the

side.
“Now here’s the idea,” said Anton as he carefully fit a final stone into

place. “The fabric of space all about us is warped. Think of it as ripples on a

pond. Larger and more dense objects distort it more significantly, but

smaller ones still have their own impact. Think of something as large as the
earth creating a cliff in space, but these metal balls and rocks, these are

handholds for your power to latch on to. Of course, anything relatively

dense should work.

“Now, as far as I can ascertain, your power is not the control of gravity.

Rather, it is the control of the shape of space itself. So the theory here is,

with enough of a handhold, you can bend space around more than you
normally could. That these metal balls would help keep space from slipping

through the fingers of your power.”

 “I’ve been around heavy objects before,” I said, studying them. “Why

wouldn’t it have worked then?”

“Three reasons—one, I suspect you never tried. Two, that it must be

both heavy and dense to form an anchoring handhold. And, three, well, it

did work. You just never used it. Like I said, I saw it happening in that
battle. To you, it’s just normal, something you never recognized.”

“And I just left this weapon lying right under my nose?”

“Just like you do with time movement,” he stated, and made a final

adjustment to the stone ring with his toe.

“Which is a gimmick.”
“Not with practice. Now, you were the one saying time was essential.

Are you going to try, or are we just going to debate?”

I paused, looking over the circle, steeling my face so Anton couldn’t see

irritation. I’d been stalling, and he’d called me out—simply because I didn’t

think it would work.

But I had done similar things before.

I remembered then the feeling of my power when Lee’s amplification

ability was present, calling back to mind the feel of space. Then, it had

seemed like the world itself was altered, as if I had slipped into another

plane showing the blueprints of existence. The strings I could pull to alter

reality itself.
 I closed my eyes, and in the darkness of night, reached out, seeking that

same experience. It was there, under the surface—not as prominent as it had

been, but existent. I widened my perceptions, reaching around, floating over

the ripples of space.

Behind us, there was the mountain—large enough to steal my attention,

but too big to gain a grasp over. To our side, the boulder housing the rest of
the team waited, clustered near several others that appeared far more

tangible without their centers hollowed out. Surrounding us, the ocean

reared upwards, the weight of water twisting space into shapes beyond my

control.

Directly in front, there was the vague outline of the circle. Four

pinpricks that were the metallic balls spiked from the edges, and the other

rocks smoothed out the spikes, creating an almost fold or rift so subtle that

it nearly escaped my senses. The spikes I could take hold of, lifting or

depressing, as if they were the poles holding up a tent. And in the center, the

calculator was too light for me to discern at all—in this reality, it was as
transparent as Lola.

Reaching out, I gripped each of the spikes with my power and lifted,

carefully trying to pry them higher. They stretched upwards, and I

registered the sound of grating as they grew heavier on the stone in front of

me, pushing down against space. For a moment, I opened my eyes, studying
the circle, where each of the metallic balls now had a distorted region of air

above them.

But it wasn’t enough just to distort the metal alone.

“You need to form a pocket or a bag,” coached Anton, his hands on his

knees as he leaned forwards. “What you’re doing now is like strings, or

trying to bundle rice together with shoelaces. It needs to be uniform.”

“Then I need more anchor points,” I answered.

“You’ll have to make do with what we have. Stretch that space and use

them to alter the regions in between. The rocks are there to help too.”

I held my breath for a moment, a part deep within me sore, like the

muscles under my thumb the first time I had learned to write with a pencil.

In a similar way, these were unused—of course, I’d moved my hand plenty

before learning to write with it. But that action took a different form of

movement, a different concentration.

Begrudgingly, the space started to take shape.

It was slow, the spikes leveling out as I pulled at them, forming a kind

of doughnut as the ring congealed together. Then I pulled it upwards,

dragging the space into a cylinder, the center of which matching the origin

of the ring. Slowly, I closed it in upon itself like a drawstring bag, then

smoothed the space out on top of it. As I let go, the spikes returned back to
normal—and so tiny that I almost did not notice it, a hole that was the

opening of the bag sat in the fabric, from where it curled in on itself.

When I opened my eyes, Anton was beaming.

And his calculator was gone.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 44 Ennia
Ennia stood with her hands on her hips, peering up at the mountaintop

while triple-checking herself for sunburn. She’d taken care to cover up

before departure, dressing in long sleeves, a hat, pants, and copious

amounts of sunscreen. But even with her utmost precautions, a sliver of

skin could still be exposed to the rays—perhaps a rip in the back of her

shirt, or her sunscreen had not been mixed well enough, or maybe the sweat

permeating through her full outfit had washed away the protective barrier.
Theoretically, she could have made such a mistake, and only five minutes

of sun exposure would sear her pale skin.

Theoretically.

Except Ennia would never make a mistake.

She’d run her fingers over each piece of fabric separating her from the

outside world every half hour, ensuring no gaps had formed without her
notice. Her sunscreen, she applied and reapplied liberally, and shook so

hard that the mixture was more homogenous than fresh out of the factory.

No, Ennia was too thorough to be burned. And it was that same

thoroughness that ground her mind against the problem at hand—getting

from where they were now to the mountaintop without being blasted apart.

“If we wanted to fight, then we could make our stand here.” She circled

a spot on the map with her finger. “Natural advantage here with your power,
Slugger.”

“Aye, we talked about that. And I’d be the first to make a stand, but

we’re trying to get up there, not fight down here.”

“Too thick to tunnel through,” she murmured, turning her attention back

to the mountain on the map, thinking aloud. “Maybe we could discover a

natural cave, then only have to burrow upwards.”

“That should only take what, a week of searching?” said Slugger.

“Not with me flying around,” Arial said, but Ennia shook her head.

“If you’re flying around with enough visibility to search for caves, then

we’re broadcasting our plans and location. Best case scenario, we arrive at
the top and they are ready and waiting for us. Worst case, we make our way

into a cave and are trapped by a dead end. With their powers on one side

and a cavern wall on the other.”

“What about if we surround the mountain and each move in at once,

quick like?” Slugger asked. “Pinpoint them in from each angle.”

“No, their powers are ranged, and they’ll just pick us off one by one. We

still have to climb the entire mountain as they are firing on us, and by the
time we reach the top, we’ll be too tired to fight.”

“Aye, so that defeats climbing,” said an exasperated Slugger. “Arial,

how about you just carry us up there?”

 “All at once?” Arial asked, her lip twitching to the side. “Maybe if you

made everyone lighter—”

“Absolutely not,” said Ennia. “In the daytime, we’d be moving slow

enough that we might as well have bells around our necks and beacons to

announce our arrival. Maybe at night, but if they have eyes on us at all, all

they have to do is take out Arial. Without her, we’ll fall, either to our
incapacitation or death.”

“Well, can’t go under, through, or over. Whaddaya suppose we do then,

just pop right in there? Fly SC in with the portal and give them a straight

doorway to home?”

“Well, I never said not over,” said Ennia, squinting her eyes and trying

to gauge the height of the mountain. Then she cast her gaze left and right,

squinting in the darkness for building supplies. Everything here was rock,

which would be difficult to coax into large quantities of other materials. But

maybe she wouldn’t need other supplies—maybe rock would be exactly

what would suffice.

She studied the hollowed-out boulder, then wrinkled her nose, picking

up a pebble and blending it into white chalk. Crouching down, she started

scratching equations into the rock.

“Point six three,” said Slugger behind her as she paused in the middle of

a multiplication. “Can’t tell you what all the letter bits are, but I’ve got the
numbers.”

“Variables,” Ennia said. “And thanks, you’re quicker than I am. This is

more about the theory, though, testing if it will work. Usually, I’d do it in
my head—but we’re only going to get one chance at this, so there’s no

room for mistakes.”

She completed the numbers, circling a check mark at the end, then

started the design. Halfway through, she ran out of chalk and rooted around

for another pebble, Arial and Slugger squinting in the darkness to make

sense of the different components. With a final dotted line, she finished,

filling in measurements as precise as she dared without examining the

potential materials around her more accurately.

“This—this has to be a joke. You can’t be serious,” Arial said as she

made out the shape in the darkness. Beside her, Slugger chuckled, slapping

Ennia on the shoulder.

“Aye, that’s more my style! Nice and bold; I like it.” Arial shook her

head, and Slugger gestured back down to the equations. “Math checks out!”

“Nothing should go wrong,” Ennia agreed, then added under her breath

as she finalized the contraption plans. “Theoretically.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 45 SC
I chewed the side of my cheek, staring sideways at the drawing as Ennia

waited for my first words.

“Now, before you say anything—” she started, producing more chalk,

but I interrupted her before she could finish.

“This—this actually might work,” I said. “I’m assuming you’ll need my

help to make some of the parts?”

“Just the cutting aspects,” said Ennia. “Everything else, I can blend.
We’ll need Slugger to do some lifting, and Arial some finesse near the top.”

“Now just hold on, you aren’t actually going to do this?” Anton said, his
eyes wide as he finished inspecting the diagram. “Something like this needs

testing, quality control, not to mention the safety of it wouldn’t pass

standards in a thousand years.”

“Well, we have maybe a thousand minutes,” I said.

“Besides, not like you’re going to be in the hot seat,” added Slugger.

“That’s for our lad SC here. I can say that, because I’ve done worse.

Remember the blimp?”

“Blimps at least are soft,” said Arial. “I’m with Anton on this one.”
“If we have another idea, I’m all ears,” I said. “But right now, we

don’t.”
 “Besides, Arial,” said Ennia, and the next few words made my stomach

clench, “for this to work, you’ll need to be in the hot seat with him.”

***

“We’re going to need another one just like this,” said Ennia as I finished

slicing, chunks of the boulder falling away before an elongated black orb.
It’d taken nearly a half hour to whittle the stone down to a single beam, like

producing a pencil from the center of a thick log, and Slugger held it above

his head now as if it were made of balsa. Arial flitted above to its tip as

Slugger dug one end into the ground, and Ennia started the work of slowly

blending them together, meshing structure and rock as if they had always
been one entity.

The second post rose soon after—copying the first was far easier now

than producing one afresh, and Slugger swung it like a bat when he was

finished to lean against the first. They supported each other, forming a

triangular frame like two cards, Arial lifting Ennia to mesh them together at

the top. Then came the next pieces, these slightly more complex, fitting into

grooves at the top and at the ends of more beams. Three hours in all it took
to complete, and by the end, my powers were strained, sweat beaded across

my brow, and the combination of jetlag and exertion clouded the faces of

the team. Already they had started making mistakes—Slugger had

accidentally tried to install one beam backwards, Anton reworked Ennia’s

math and was convinced she was wrong until she fixed one of his constants

from Jupiter’s atmosphere to Earth’s (since he had been studying the

weather storms around the red dot earlier, he claimed he had mixed them

up), and I nearly sliced a finished beam in half.

When all was finished and Ennia started basic tests, Arial flew back for

our supplies. And I addressed the team, speaking with a confidence that did
not quite extend into my own mind.

“This has been the simple part—the preparation. If we could act now, I

would, but we are going to need the light of day. We want them to see this

coming—or rather, what they think is coming.

“An hour after dawn, we strike. Our goal is to lure them away from the

mountain, to bring them to fight us here. Do whatever you must to enrage

them, make their emotions get the better of them. Especially Blake—when

he cracks, so too will the others.

“Until then, we rest. Sleep as well as you can. We’re going to need it in

the morning. But first, Ennia, show us how to load this thing.”
With a nod, she moved to the piles of boulders that Slugger had

collected over the past hour and that she had fused together to form a

massive clump. Straining under the weight, Slugger attached it to one of the

lever arms, my own gravitational skills helping him lift the mass, and Arial

pushing it from below as well. With a grunt, he power-cleaned it upwards,

while the rest of the team rushed to the other end of the contraption, folding

the other end of the lever arm into place. Then Ennia moved forward with a

bar of hardened metal, a pin that had taken her a half hour to convert from
stone, and wedged it into place.

“When we fire this, there’s no going back,” Ennia said as she then

loaded the first boulder into a hanging net constructed of tendons and

muscles converted from the fabric of our backpacks. “Two shots are all we

have. One to provoke, and one to carry the payload. Slugger, I’m going to

need you to make them as close as possible in mass—we want to use our

first shot to adjust our aim. Now, any questions?”

“Oi, I got one,” said Slugger, putting his arm up against the edge of the

machine. “Did any of you ever dream you would see a trebuchet in action?

Let alone one the size of a house!”

The others laughed, but I stared up at the mountain, knowing the time

for warfare was quickly approaching. Like a catapult, but capable of far

longer distances, the trebuchet would fire as Ennia’s boulder counterweight

was released. Then a rock would hurtle towards the mountain, smashing as

close to Blake as possible.

And despite his diamond skin, even he could not survive a blow of that

magnitude.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 46 SC
We awoke before the sun, just as the edges of light started scattering

across the sky, and the outline of the trebuchet came into focus.
The machine was a monstrosity—an enormous A-frame at least three

stories tall, each of its supports as thick as a tree trunk and solid stone that
looked to be carved out of the ground itself. Ennia’s counterweight more

closely resembled enormous cauliflower head than a cluster of boulders,

perched so precariously on one end of the arm that it looked like a

testament to Balanced Rock, as if at any instant, it might come crashing

down and steamroll us in fury. But most disturbing was that the entire
machine bled.

“Thing about stone and concrete is that they are awful under tension,”
said Ennia. “Fantastic to stack things on top of, but when you pull them

apart, they tend to break. Usually, engineers use rebar metal to give it some
flexibility, but we don’t have that. To blend that much metal here —usable

metal, that is, not some useless brittle alloy—would take me days. Instead,

we’ll work with my specialty—life. Tendons and ligaments for flexibility,

to hold it together from shattering.”

Her fingers came away red from where she touched it, and the machine

pulsed once as if alive.

 “This machine is a Frankenstein contraption,” said Anton, shaking his

head and backing away as if he thought it would attack him.

“And similarly, it will work. Don’t care if it is ugly, it will work.”

“Aye, got that in common with most of us, eh? Ugly workers,” said

Slugger just as the very first tip of the sun crested the ocean horizon. The
uppermost beam illuminated the top of the mountain, the craigs casting long

shadows that could conceal enough bodies to form an army. Just one of

those shadows could hold our entire enemy—and it was time to find out

which.

“Places!” I shouted, my voice deep to carry far across the island, hoping
to stir bodies off the mountain like an avalanche. “Anton, light us up!”

“Again, not what my power is supposed to be used for,” said Anton, but

at our looks, he signed, and the green glow raced across his skin. He stood

pencil straight, with his hands in the air to add a few feet of height, his face

in concentration as the layer thickened about him. Then the glow doubled,

turning into a beacon, as Slugger raced up a nearby ridge where he had

stacked a pile of boulders. He levered his shoulder into them, trying to

avoid reducing their mass, toppling the pile to roll down the slope in a small

rockslide. They cracked together like billiard balls, almost sounding like

explosions, followed by a deep rumble as they spaced out from their

acceleration.
 “That’s lights and sound!” I said. “Ennia, smell?”

“Took care of it ten minutes ago, when the wind was just right,” she

said, holding up a small sample of blended rock. “Volcanic, so it wasn’t too

difficult to bring out some sulfur and brimstone. Vaporized enough of it that

they’ll think the magma is roaring up under their feet.”

“Smell, confirmed. Now let’s see if they have a taste for more.”
I squinted, and Arial leapt from the ground, racing up into the air. In less

than ten seconds, she nosedived back towards us, pulling a flip before

touching down onto the ground, absorbing the heavy impact on her knees.

“Right hand side!” she blurted, pointing. “Same three so far as I can tell

from yesterday. Might just be them from what I can tell!”

“Ennia, aim!” I shouted, and the trebuchet grated as she and Slugger

adjusted it. “See that dead tree? Right underneath it.”

“Aiming a bit above to make the second shot easier,” she responded,

shading her eyes and peering at the angle. “But this is all estimate at best.”

“They’re moving,” warned Arial. “Wait too long, and I’ll lose track of
them.”

She took back to the sky, just as I shouted another command, my eyes

on Slugger as he reached inside the trebuchet and ripped away the pin

holding it in balance.

“Fire!”
 It took Slugger three yanks to pull the pin clear, throwing his shoulder

and back into the motion like jerking a lawnmower ripcord. Then the arm

was moving—impossibly slow at first as gravity pulled the counterweight

downwards. Then accelerating, until it completed its arc in a whoosh,

dragging the payload boulder beneath. It bounced twice before reaching the

end of its rope, the motion flinging the rock high into the air.

There it moved with an almost sort of grace, the world silent for a

moment, the most peaceful part of the morning so far. Then the payload hit

the mountain, a plume of smoke gushing upwards only forty feet above

where the three dark shadows waited. And just as the ledge above crumbled

and rushed upon them, the mighty resounding crack reached us, so loud that

Anton’s green shield faltered in shock.

“You like that?” I shouted up at the mountain, releasing two dark orbs

above my head in colorful explosions. “Come on down here and fight us,

you cowards!”

Blue light emanated from the dust, vaporizing it away, gathering in

intensity as the air cleared. It streaked towards us, but the distance was too

great—by the time it reached us, a simple black orb annihilated it in its

path. In mockery, I threw the orb back towards the mountain, exploding

halfway back in defiance.

 “That all you got?!” I shouted as yellow light joined the blue. Star and

plasma alike started to intertwine together, but they were still too far off to

reach us.

“Ennia, Slugger, get the next projectile loaded!” I shouted. “Arial, a

quick flyby! Don’t get too close, just torment them. We need to lure them

down here first; until then, we’re stuck.”

“On it,” Arial said. “But don’t you start the next part until I’m back.”

“I won’t let him,” said Ennia. “Without you, our equations don’t work

out.”

Then Arial was off, moving as a blur, buzzing around the mountain like
an angry fly that refused to be swatted. I saw the telltale glint of diamond

among the rock, and a small smile played across my face. But Slugger

pulled at my elbow, stealing my attention as Blake’s form began to descend.

“Oi, SC, you hear that?” he said, tilting his ear upwards, just as the

intermittent whining of a motor reached me. “Sounds like they brought

friends. We’re in for trouble, eh?”

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Chapter 47 SC
Arial was still high in the sky when I started to move.

“Positions! We’re acting early!” I shouted as Ennia finished rigging the

payload and Slugger cocked the counterweight into position with the aid of

my gravity.
“What? That’s not the plan; we can’t move yet,” said Ennia, rooted to

the spot. “They’re still up there, on the mountain. Move now and the plan

falls apart.”
“If we don’t move now, we’re attacked from behind,” I answered,

waving towards the payload. This time, it was the hollowed-out boulder that
we had used for planning—augmented by Slugger’s touch, it would fly just

as far as the last.

But with us inside.

Anton broke rank first, dashing inside the boulder and practically falling
over his spindly legs. After checking the trebuchet for new defects with a

few quick glances, Ennia followed, the whining of the motor getting

increasing in volume with each moment, almost like a racecar turning rings

around a track.
Next, I entered but found myself alone on the inside. The enclosure was

more spacious than it had been the night before. The table we had used for

planning had been cut away at the base. The walls we had trimmed,
stripping away any additional mass that we could without compromising

the integrity of the structure. Now, instead of a boulder, it resembled a

nutshell, just a thin layer of rock separating it from the outside world,

forming the perfect camouflage.

Where Anton and Ennia should have been, there was only the black
portal door to the subway, one I had fetched early that morning to place

inside. They had jumped through before my arrival, peering at me from

within the subway, and I gripped the portal with my own powers, holding it

fast.

Outside, I heard the engine, the whining growing louder as I raised my

voice to Slugger.

“Cut us loose! Fire the arm!”

“What about Arial?” he shouted back, and I produced a dark orb with

my right hand, jabbing upwards to open a small pinhole into the outside

world through the layer of rock. There I could see blue sky and Arial’s form

streaking back towards us, much farther away than the whining of the

engine.
“No!” shouted Ennia through the portal. “Without her additional lift and

guidance, our trajectory is unpredictable. We’ll either crash into the

mountain or sail over it, but won’t land on top of it.”

 “If we crash, I’ll just jump through to you before impact,” I said. “But

we need to get out of here now, before reinforcements arrive. For all we

know, that could be a caravan of Specials picked to most effectively

dismantle our powers. There’s nowhere to hide here. Slugger, do it now,

then get out.”

“Oi, I don’t like orders, SC.”

“I don't care,” I shouted back. “Do it now and get your ass out of here.”

With a groan reeking of exasperation, Slugger yanked the metal pin

loose, grinding against the rock. For a moment, all was still, gravity

seemingly unaware of the change. Then the counterweight started to swing

down like a pendulum, the rope attached to the boulder with me inside not

yet catching. All too suddenly, it snapped taut, and with a mighty lurch, I

was slammed against the back wall, the rock interior knocking stars into my

vision as it collided with the back of my head. That, I had been prepared for.

What I had not anticipated was the spinning.

Our plan had been simple: with our first launch, we were to draw the
enemy down the slope to attack us. With the second shot, we would fly over

the enemy as I dragged the portal along, effectively creating a trojan horse

to the top of the mountain, with the most dangerous weapon we had

concealed on the inside—ourselves. Slugger was intended to stay behind to

antagonize Blake, trying to distract him as long as possible while Arial

pulled us into a landing and we disembarked. Since I alone was inside the

boulder, I was the only one at risk if it were to crash—and I could simply

jump inside the portal, and theoretically after the dust cleared, the door
would be left behind for us to disembark on the mountaintop. Since Arial no

longer guided us, we would certainly be crashing.

Instead of climbing the mountain, we had launched ourselves to the top,

over Blake. And by the time he realized that, it would be too late.

We had decided to leave Slugger behind for three reasons. One, that he

was the only one who could pull out the pin for firing. Two, that his power

would let him create enough obstacles in Blake’s path to escape. And three,

that if anyone besides myself were to drive Blake into a frenzy, he was

certainly the most likely candidate.

I’d thought the plan clever, but with the spinning of the boulder, I

grunted as I was pressed back against the back wall. It took all my

concentration to hold the portal in place across from me, and fighting the

force to pass through it was not an option. Mentally and physically, I was

ripped in different directions as my power strained against the dark tunnel

that the portal pulled through the other side at this speed. It felt like reeling

in a fighting fish, the inertia dragging against me, chipping away at my

hold.
 Chills rushed down my back as I realized the implications for Arial and

Slugger if I died on impact. We’d launched the portal high into the air,

where the gravitational gradient would be far more than at the trebuchet.

Without me, traveling through the portal would be impossible for the

others. My power was their ticket home, and without it, they would be stuck

on this island without escape. That was if they could even find the portal

among the wreckage, or where it might be floating high into the air.

I strained my head to the side, the world spinning, barely able to look

through the peephole I had made earlier. There, the world flashed by in

oscillations of sea, land, and sky—navy blue on light blue on grey rock. Air
whistled through it, and I heard something else as I whizzed past a small

shape that appeared in the stone doorway for an instant. Something not

natural—Arial’s voice, barely carrying into the inside of the rock, but laced

with fury as she whipped around in pursuit.

“You idiot.”

Through the door, I could make out the blurred mountain top

approaching. And I couldn’t contain the smile that pushed onto my face, in

spite of the fear and the danger, as I wondered if her voice would be the last

one I ever heard.

Even if she was calling me an idiot.

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Chapter 48 SC
I quickly outstripped Arial, and her words died upon the wind far behind

me as she turned to a mere speck. My boulder crested, hovering in the air

for a brief instant of time, high enough that I could look down upon the

mountaintop. Then I started to descend, the land rushing upwards in eager

haste.

I steeled myself, still unable to jump through the dark portal. But there

was the open doorway beside me, a last-ditch escape effort. Timed just
right, Arial would be able to catch me in my fall, and we would be far

enough over the mountain not to be seen from below. Too early, and I
would be caught. Too late, and I would become a splash of red across the

mountaintop.
A lake covered the top of the mountain, filling in the deep crater

stretching from rim to rim. A twin image of the sun reflected on the glassy
water surface, the smoothness counteracted by jagged rocks that formed the

circlet of its edge like a mighty crown of earth. At the center of the lake was

the cabin, wisps of smoke trailing up from its chimney and quickly

dissipating into the air. Chills took hold of my spine as I sailed over the top
of the cabin, rapidly approaching the mountain’s edge. Behind, Arial was no

longer visible. And ahead, the boulder’s trajectory would carry me over on a

rapid descent to the pebble beaches beyond.

 I gritted my teeth, turning my head sideways towards the door, the

motion making the room spin even faster. With a grunt, I pushed off the

rock wall, my elbow scraping hard against the stone, back muscles taut.

Then I launched myself out the open doorway, leaving the confines of the

boulder, tumbling through the air. But my inertia kept me moving, still
tracking to land over the edge of the mountain, the boulder moving in pace

beside me.

I reached down below with my power, yanking upwards at the surface

of the still lake with a force point, and a wall of water erupted in front of

me. I crashed through it, still spinning, one of my ears ringing from the
impact. The water punched at my chest, my ribs absorbing the blow,

spraying a mist out before me that choked my breath. And as the edge still

approached, I knew I would have to do it again. With a defiant shout, I

reached down and summoned the water.

The second wall was thicker, slowing me down considerably more than

the first but also knocking the breath out of me, stunning my thoughts for a

precious instant. And at the third wall, I sputtered as water forced its way
into my mouth and lungs, and I fell to the lake’s surface. I skidded across

the water like a flat stone, alternating between stomach and back in

somersaults, each collision more like concrete than liquid. Before I could

regain my senses, I was underwater.

 Bubbles streamed from my lips as I choked, clawing my way upwards

until I broke the surface, coughing up water. Only ten feet away was the

edge, and I offered a silent thanks that Ennia’s counterweight had not been

slightly lighter. I kicked over, clutching the stone like a wet rat, the sharp

rocks cutting into my palms as I caught my ragged breath. Below, the edge

fell away rapidly, like a smooth pool wall without ledges to stand.
The water itself was warm, near the heat of a hot tub, though whether

from sun exposure or volcanic activity, I was not sure. Already the

temperature was uncomfortable, and I pushed my mind away from the

thought that it might be getting hotter by the second. I stared into the

depths, through the perfectly clear water. But beyond my feet, darkness

took over before I could see the bottom.

At least it wasn’t a dull red glow.

My breaths slowed as I forced them to be deeper, my ribs groaning in

protest. I felt over them with two fingers, checking if they were broken or

just bruised, unsure of what exactly I should be searching for. Aside from
the stiffness and pain, they seemed normal enough. I coughed, wincing as I

nearly blacked out from the shock of pain, my fingers clawing into the rock.

Then I finished checking myself for injuries, finding nothing significant

aside from bloodied elbows before surveying my surroundings.

 Above, Arial was nowhere in sight. She’d likely followed the boulder

over the edge of the mountain, thinking that I would still have been inside

and investigating the wreckage. I could call out, but anything I did to attract
her attention could also attract the attention of any of Blake’s forces that he

had left behind. High above and closer to the center of the lake, I could see

the black shimmer that was the portal—from this angle, it looked more like

a shoebox-thick rectangular shadow, and with the faces of Anton and Ennia

peering out. Too far for their voices to be heard, and too high for me to

grasp it.

An object flew out of the gap, aimed at me, tumbling through the air

and splashing down twenty feet away. It bobbed to the surface, encrusted in

a block of ice that melted away into the heated water. Anton’s shoe, I

realized, which had frozen from the new height differential of the portal.

While they would likely endure the fall from their height into the water,

without my help, they would not survive the freeze.

With them trapped in the subway, Arial off searching for my remains,

Slugger distracting Blake, and Lucio captured, that left me alone. If Blake’s

team returned, I would have no backup or support.

Which meant I had to act quick.

So with a grimace, I pushed off the wall, starting a breast stroke towards
the cabin in the center. Watching the rock rim for prying eyes, prepared to
dive at a moment’s notice, and taking care not to create too many ripples

across the lake’s otherwise undisturbed surface.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 49 Lucio
“Where the hell did you come from?”

Slugger dropped the enormous rock support beam he held like a

baseball bat, one of the pieces of the trebuchet that SC had measured to the

wrong size. In front of him, Lucio slid to a stop, kicking out the back tire of
a motorcycle to grate across the stone. The engine quieted to a steady

thrum, and Slugger cursed as he looked up at the mountain, where he had

launched SC only moments before, before turning his attention back to

Lucio.

“That was you making that engine racket? We just accelerated our
rescue mission for you to get away from that!”

Lucio hopped off the bike, leaning it against his side, and running a
hand down the flames painted over its shining back exterior. The island had

been perfect for riding—unlike the city, there were few obstacles here.
Instead of buildings, there were flat plateaus, and so long as he didn’t ride

off a cliff or into a boulder, little to avoid. The volcanic rock was even

smoother than most of the asphalt back in the city, considering that no

potholes racked its surface here. And there were no pesky pedestrians that
would invade his road. Which all contributed to his chances of spinning out

significantly lowering.
 “Well,” Lucio said, throwing out his chest, his hair loose from the wind

and adrenaline still pumping through him, “I did exactly what you said. No

reason to rescue me.”

“Exactly what I said? The hell is that?”

“Got myself a job. And look what I was able to afford!” He stepped to
the side, throwing his arms wide to display the motorcycle. “Now where is

everyone?”

“You got a job? Well lookee here, aren’t you special. Got a job while

we’re all trying to save your ass. Totally fine that you were just trying to

pick yourself up a new toy, eh? No problem that we just launched everyone
to the top of the mountain because we thought you got kidnapped.”

“Why would you think I was kidnapped?” Lucio said back. “I go out all

the time.”

“Because you jumped through the portal!” Slugger shouted back. “We

could see the paper trail you left!”

“I thought about it, but I never went through,” Lucio said.

“So you’re telling me this whole time we were off searchin for ya, you
were off working to get that motorcycle?”

“Well, yeah. I told you I wanted it. You should have known where I

went. It’s not my fault you all left to come here early.”

Slugger dug his knuckles into his eyes, groaning as he spoke.

 “This is exactly why you can’t care for yourself, and I have to play

babysitter.”

“Actually, I cared for myself better than you,” Lucio shot back. “I don’t

see you with a job! Or a motorcycle!”

As Slugger clenched his hands into fists, Arial alighted down beside

them, sweat trickling down her temple.

“You weren’t supposed to fire!” she shouted to Slugger, then whirled on

Lucio, her eyes wide. “And you, how are you here?”

“I was under direct orders, Miss, and I don’t like it any more than you

do,” said Slugger. “And apparently, Lucio here was late to the party, not

early. Just arrived now. Where’s SC? Did he make it?”

“No,” said Arial bitterly. “Completely overshot. If I was there with him,

we could have touched down. But the boulder cleared over the mountain. I

followed it to the other side, where it shattered. No blood, no bones, so

that’s good. Means he must have jumped through to subway. But I can’t

find the portal either, so I have no idea.”

“Boy,” said Slugger. “Now we’re in deep shit. One, we might have just

lost our ticket home. Two, our firepower is halved. And three is Blake, all

hot and bothered, comin to teach us a lesson.”

Arial and Lucio followed his finger, to where Blake was winged by two

other Specials, a boy and a girl, and were still rushing towards them. They’d
reached the bottom of the mountain, and only flat plain separated them,

with nothing in between. Each of the Specials at his side were powering up,

blue light shimmering around one and yellow around the other, and Blake’s
solid diamond skin refracted the colors onto the ground.

“Well, lucky for us,” said Lucio, hopping back onto his bike. “I happen

to have a way to get us out of here.”

“Ain’t no way I’m riding on the back of that like your girlfriend,” said

Slugger as Lucio revved the engines. “Besides, no way you know how to

drive that.”

“I can drive it better than you!” Lucio shot back. “Had plenty of

practice since last night. Now, if you ask me, we’re in need of a chase scene

rather than an action scene. So unless you want to stay here, hop on up.”

Slugger paused as Arial leapt into the air. Then he shouldered the

mighty stone beam and climbed behind Lucio, holding it as if he were

playing polo. That stone should have weighed many times over their own

pounds and the bike, but in Slugger’s hand, it might as well have been a

feather.

“Aye,” Slugger said. “But don’t be expecting a kiss. And if they get

close enough to us, I’m golfin their heads clean off.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 50 Blake
Blake growled as he charged forwards, tripping over a crack in the

rocks but catching himself on his claws, not losing a step as the diamond
edges of his fingers raked through the stone. Instead, he launched himself

forward, bounding like an animal on all fours. Feeling the hunt stirring
within himself, the predatory chase, along with the same burning energy

that always came when he fully utilized his power.

He looked behind him, to where the other two were trailing behind, and
punched a nearby boulder in frustration. The top layer of sediment shattered

off, and he cursed as they struggled to catch up. They were anchors, holding
him back, and he only waited for them because he’d been charged to utilize

them. To train them.

And they were failing to meet his expectations. And why should they

succeed? They were soft, most of their time spent tucked away in labs, their
powers too flashy to be utilized often in the outside world. Only recently

had they attended a form of rehabilitation facility—but the methods there

were different than the song Siri used to inspire him. No, where Siri’s song

sharpened, their own headmaster’s had dulled—leaving them entranced, as

if half asleep. Obedient to the letter, but at the cost of creativity.

He snarled as they came within earshot, chancing a glance forwards to

where he could see the target congregating. If he would have rushed ahead,
he would be there by now. For him, descending a mountain was as easy as

curling into a ball and tumbling downwards.

“You, Estella,” he commanded the girl with her hands on her knees, his

voice grating as even his vocal cords turned diamond, “fall back up the

mountain. Keep watch in case they try any tricks, and blast them away if
they do. Troy, you’re with me. Don’t fall too far behind.”

Then he was off again before he could see the utter frustration rage

across the girl’s face as she turned back towards the mountain they had just

descended, and Troy’s despair at not catching his breath.

“This was a shit assignment,” Blake muttered, his voice filled with fury.
“No one was supposed to arrive here. It’s been years chasing the ravings of

a madman. It was a punishment for failing last time, with the two of them in

tow to make me really feel it.”

He struck out again, sparks flying off his fingertips, then slid down a

small slope on his shins, continuing to mutter.

“All the message said was to arrive. Well, we arrived. We watched. And

now I have to deal with this again. But this time, they aren’t getting away.
And they sure as hell aren’t getting into that cabin before me.”

His sights were on them now, just as Arial leapt into the air. But she

would have to land eventually, and he would be there waiting when she did.

Like a cat that cannot catch a bird in active flight, but waits for just the right
moment to bring it down out of the sky. All he had to do was make contact,

and the battle would be won.

Then there were the two others, Slugger and Lucio. Lucio, who might as

well be a Regular to Blake, for the inefficacy of his power. He’d cut him

apart first, striking where it was easiest. Slugger wouldn’t be much harder,

annoying more than anything. With his mass controlling powers, he could
block Blake’s way—but eventually, Blake would find a way through. And

in direct combat, he could smash through anything Slugger could throw at

him.

But then a rumbling reached his ears, and Blake squinted, his crystalline

eyes narrowing. He howled as he saw the motorbike, a plume of dust

erupting from its back tire as it took off, and redoubled his speed.

He would not let them escape again. And SC had not gotten on that

motorbike. Which meant he would be waiting.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 51 SC
Not a cloud covered the sky as SC swam across the gap, disturbing the

glassy water with each stroke.

Slowly, the cabin approached, and he searched for abnormalities with

each passing breath. Smoke from the chimney dissipated before it could
reach five feet above the roof, though he could smell no fire. There was a

flickering in the window—not that of a light bulb or a candle, but almost

brighter, white-hot and shifting as it was masked through the curtains. But
the strangest aspect was not the cabin itself, but rather, the ground around it.

Which hosted the first vegetation he had seen since arriving on the
mountain.

Everywhere else, the trees had been dead, the vines long dried up, the
grass crumbling like old parchment. But here, there was an oasis. Ivy

climbed up the sides of the cabin, prying into any available gaps or cracks.
A lush lawn encircled the outermost layer of the island, the grass long and

unkempt. Flowers peeked out, a variety of colors speckling the grounds like

dots of paint, and four saplings grew with each claiming a corner of the

cabin.
I treaded water for a moment, silent and only a few yards away from the

ledge, trying to determine if any forms hid in the grass. But nothing moved,
the vegetation thin enough for me to easily see through. No, if anyone was

watching, it would be from the inside.

When I reached the island, there was no slope for me to walk up out of

the water. Rather, the sides of the island fell away like sheer underwater

cliffs, stretching down and away in a rectangular foundation farther than I

could see. It reached a full foot out of the water, concrete around the edges,

and I pulled myself upwards, sitting for a moment to rest and take in my

surroundings.

No bridges connected the cabin to the rim, no shallow waterways

allowed access. No boats were moored to its side, nor were there cleats for
them to be tied to. Aside from swimming, or by powers or flight, there

would be no way to access it.

Which made it perfect to contain a prisoner. If Lucio were anywhere, it

would be here.

I edged around towards the doorway, jumping as I heard a high-pitched

trilling behind me, wheeling around with a dark orb in hand. A small bird

only looked back at me from the sapling, the first I had seen since coming
to the island, its head cocked to the side. It trilled again and flapped closer,

regarding me with curiosity, as if I did not belong just as much as it, the

first one I had seen on the island.

 I edged my way around to the door, and as I moved, an energy seemed

to rush across my skin. The hairs on my arm stood on end, as if with

goosebumps, and the back of my neck tingled. I’d felt like this before, I

knew, but couldn’t quite place it. And it felt wrong on the island, somehow

out of place.

I peered through the windows, but the curtains were too thick to make
anything out. There was a silhouette outlined in the center, but I couldn’t

risk shouting. And that light played around it—shimmering, pulsating,

leaping about the room. A trap, I suspected, to hold someone within.

“I’m coming,” I whispered, and reached the doorway, putting my ear up

against it. It was solid wood, cool to the touch, and I could just barely pick

up a sound from inside. I closed my eyes, trying to identify it, and it almost

sounded like the inside of a seashell. A sort of swishing, interlaced with

pattering. There was a pattern to it, and I stilled my breath to try and

identify it. It was familiar, seeming almost like—

Just then, the bird trilled again, this time from right behind me, causing
me to jump once more.

“You’re going to scare me out of my skin,” I hissed at it, but it trilled

once more, then took off, flying out away from the cabin, towards the rocky

rim, and out to the rest of the island. As it left, I realized that something had
changed. Something that should have been impossible in the few moments

that my back was turned.

The daylight had gone out.

Instead of blue sky above me, dark purple clouds wrestled each other,

and thunder boomed so loud that I staggered. Rain began to fall in a torrent,

sheets of it rushing across the lake, as lightning flashed bright enough to

burn my retinas. Wind howled over the lake, whipping up spray, and the

tingling feeling I had experienced earlier returned. Only this time, I could

recognize it, and it now belonged.

The sensation of static, of charged air, just before lightning would

strike, accompanied by the thick smell of ozone, and the animalistic instinct

that was now screaming at me to dive for cover. That if I didn’t move, I

would be char in an instant.

Blake must have sent someone back to the mountain to attack me, I

realized as I fumbled at the door. Then I threw it open, leaping inside for

shelter. Fleeing the storm.

And entering another.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 52 SC
What I had thought to be curtains from the outside of the cabin were not

fabric. Nor were they any other material I had experienced.

Rather, they were cloud made solid. And they were the least strange

aspects of the inside of the cabin.

Wind howled louder within the cabin than it had outside—a swirling,

tornado-like gust that raged through the enclosure. A mist intermingled with

it, obscuring anything more than a dozen feet away and giving the room the
appearance that it stretched on towards infinity. Lightning crackled from the

ceiling, forming static pillars as thick as my arm, the energy rushing up and
down in flickering bursts. And under my feet was more of the solid cloud

from the windows—a deep purple, and springy, as if it were chunks of a

foam mattress.

Behind me, the door slammed shut with enough force to sever a limb,
but the roaring din of the room dwarfed the sound. And in the center of it

all, turned away from me, with the wind and rain and lightning converging

on him, was a young adult.

His hair flowed long, down to past his earlobes in a dirty blond, unkept
and uncombed. His posture was slouched, relaxed, as if he had not noticed

the maelstrom around him. And though I became drenched within moments
of entering the cabin, he remained perfectly dry, not a hair on his head

heeding the wind.

He turned, and I caught sight of his eyes—as blue as a summer sky,

with sparks around the edge of the iris. Instead of acknowledging me, he

faced the wall, extending his hand outwards. There, the fireplace waited,
bits of solid smoke escaping upwards through the chimney to form the

dispersion I had noticed on approach. Then he clenched his hand, and the

room erupted.

The lightning pillars danced, whirring in towards him, encircling him

with light. The swirling wind homed in upon his fingers, as if entering his
fist to be caught in his palm. Rain slammed down hard enough to form

waves, as thick as if I was underwater, nearly obscuring what happened

next as he curled his arm back.

The fireplace responded with cracks of thunder, and storm clouds

rushed inwards, hurtling through the chimney from outside and buffeting

against each other as they compressed just above his palm. With them, the

other remnants of the outside storm entered —debris and hail, dozens of
dust devils, and flashes of balled electrical charges. Before him, they

congregated, dancing together, and he brought his other palm atop them, as

the storm already in the room responded to his call, rushing inwards. He

bound them together—the lightning, the rain, the clouds and the wind—
leeching them away from the cabin interior, beckoning them forth, and the

room beneath revealed itself as the elements fled.

With the storm contained in his palm, I could now see the table that he

slouched against, as well as the cup of still steaming tea undisturbed on its

surface. Bookshelves revealed themselves about the room, a television set

currently playing a movie, and a small kitchen with half a meal prepared.
The floor was carpeted and dry, not a splotch of water discoloring its

surface. And as the last of the lightning died away, tucked into the

concentrated ball that reminded me of my own dark orbs, the lightbulbs

above flickered to life, filling the room with a warm glow.

His face still in concentration, he drew away a strand of the storm, a

sizzling string of lightning. Then he wrapped it about the ball, the depths

still roiling and churning, before tying a neat bunny knot to hold the

construct together. Striding over to his bookshelf, he pulled down a wooden

box, the edges chipped from wear. The size of an encyclopedia book, it took

up about a quarter of the table as he set it down with care, then unclasped
the locks at its edges, opening it up to reveal a red felt interior.

Dozens of other storm spheres like the one he held filled the box, each

set into a small recession, packaged orderly like a collection. Each was

labeled, and each appeared slightly different—some showed more lightning,

others were more greenish in hue, while still more seemed to be consumed
by wind rather than clouds. With care, he placed the fresh orb into a new

spot, then pulled out a marker, writing on a small label that he taped down

in front of it.
Only then did he turn his attention to me, as he pulled out a chair from

himself from the table, and settled down with his tea. The storm spheres

still bulged with power, but he ignored them, his attention now on my

sopping wet clothes and hair, the only aspects of the room out of order.

“Please, take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from himself.

“I have towels to dry you off as well. Of course, I could do that too, but I’ve

been informed that is quite rude.”

Then he extended a hand, traces of lightning still dying across his

fingernails.

“You must be SC.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 53 SC
“How do you know who I am?” I asked, still in the doorway.

“The same reason you knew to come here. We share a link in common.
Arachne.”

My mind flew backwards, to Dieta’s story, and the child she had cared
for with storm abilities. Jeannie. Except Jeannie was a child no more—

rather, he was significantly older than me. Then again, in Dieta’s eyes, we

were likely all still children.

My skin crawled as I remembered what Jeannie also was, the remnants

of electricity in the room intensifying the sensation.

A Titan.

“Time’s short; you really should sit,” continued Jeannie. “Far shorter for
me than for you, in a way. I won’t bite. I haven’t gone off the deep end yet.

There’s still a human inside here.”

He smiled and gestured to the chair again. Mist trailed behind his arm,

and with a slight frown, he banished it as it was replaced by a small cloud

that hovered like a halo just above his head. As a Titan, his power would be

consuming his consciousness, making him a force of nature rather than a

human. Powers manifesting without his knowledge were not a good sign,

especially in an area as confined as the cabin. As I joined him, I watched for

abnormalities closely, and plotted an escape route by blowing a hole

directly into the wall behind me. Being this close to a Titan was like sitting

on a chair made of dynamite. A single spark would turn the cabin into a pile

of toothpicks.

“You said still human. Is that changing?” I asked, and he reached behind

himself to pull out another cup of tea, placing it in front of me. It steamed
on the table, smelling like flowers and springtime showers, though he had

poured it directly from a pitcher of clean water.

“I’m sure you’re parched—I hope you didn’t drink the water on the

swim over; it’s not particularly healthy. Nothing you won’t recover from,

yet I’m afraid the facilities on this island would not be accommodating. But
yes, my level of humanity is changing. Always has been, of course, ever

since I was a child. Usually, people become more, well, people-like as they

grow older. Not so with me. Do you know what it feels like?”

I shook my head, taking a sip, the temperature perfect. “Can’t say I’ve

experienced it. I’m not in that league.”

“Ah, of course. Well, I would say the sensation is like this island here,

except the storm is raging outside. You know you’re safe in the cabin, but
you still hear the wind and the lightning flashes. Any time you want, you

can step outside and join that storm. Seize control of it, let it become you.

But you hold back—as with each moment, the water rises, and pieces of the

cabin fall away. Sooner or later, the storm will prevail. Nature always does;
it weathers away at our boundaries. Eroding them until they no longer

exist.” Jeannie paused, noticing that I had slid backwards in my chair as his

fingernails started to glow. “My apologies. I wasn’t trying to unnerve you.”

“It’s fine,” I answered, pushing against my anxiety. “Is that what you

were doing here, then? Containing the storm?”

Jeannie laughed. “Oh, the storm can never be contained! But pieces
can!” He gestured down at the storms in the case, running his fingers over

their surface, and they wavered beneath his touch. “Each of these is one that

I captured, a diary of sorts. This entire right half is from this island. I draw

them in here, pull them down to me. Of course, they’re already attracted to

me—they know that we are the same, in a way. But there’s nine or ten

hurricanes in there alone since I’ve arrived here. Plenty of lives saved, I

would say, from when they would have crashed upon the coast. At least one

would have been a direct hit to a city. Hopefully, more lives than I would

end when this happens.”

He raised his right hand, and the skin turned translucent —instead of
flesh, it was replaced by rain water. Lightning filled in where his blood

vessels should be, and ice his bones. He clenched his fingers, and I felt

power rush over me, the same sensation as standing beneath a mighty

waterfall, or before a bear. Then he snapped his fingers, and the

transformation dissipated, returning back to human form with a slight

crack.

“You say that as if your fate is already decided,” I said, my mind turning
back to how Siri had used her powers to keep Titans in human form. “But

there are ways that it can be avoided. We can help you, you know. Find a

way to keep you from tipping. And we could use someone like you, if you

would be interested in helping us.”

“Oh, I know you could,” he said, a knowing look in his eye. “But how

would you plan to accomplish keeping me human? By shackling my nature,

trapping me within my own mind? If you returned from this island but wore

handcuffs every day and a gag in your mouth, would you find that worth

living? This power, it’s not a side effect. It’s a piece of who I am, my

identity, just as much as being human is. I am the storm. To rob me of that

is to take away what makes me me. What you see now is me as polite spring

rainfall, but I am too the fury of the typhoon.”

I frowned, scooting back in my chair to create some distance between

us, and holding my chin high despite the obvious power gap.

“Just because you have stopped a few hurricanes doesn’t mean you can

go nuclear on the world now. I’ve seen a Titan in action before, I know

what you are capable of. Do you really think that I would let you become a
natural disaster?”
 “See,” said Jeannie, leaning backwards in his chair, flicking a spark

around his knuckles like a coin. “That’s precisely what I anticipate you

doing. In fact, I expect you to help.”

I opened my mouth to object, but that same wave of power washed over

me as his eyes flashed.

“But first, a story. Arachne brought you here so that we could meet. It’s

time you know why.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 54 Jeannie
Arachne had told Dieta that he had saved Jeannie from a house fire. He

hadn’t lied with that statement, but neither had he revealed the entire truth.
Arachne had also saved him from his parents.

Originally, they would have lived through that fire. Jeannie’s father was
a high-powered Watermancer, and his mother a high powered Blizzarder.

Between the two of them, putting out the fire would have been a task so

easy that they could have accomplished it without the slightest injury.
Escaping it with their son would be even simpler.

Had they not been too drunk.

But they had gone out to dinner that night, as they always did on the

second Tuesday of the month, leaving Jeannie with a babysitter. They’d met
someone at the bar, someone who had covered their liquor tab, joining them

in shots of liquor until they could barely stand, then ordering their cab
home. It had been a night to remember, if they could remember it. And if

there had been any days left to remember it.

To Arachne, he hadn’t committed murder. It was simply a strand of fate

he had introduced into their lives, one particularly short. The fire was bound
to happen with or without his intervention.

Otherwise, as they noticed their son’s abnormalities in power growing

each year, they would have sought help to contain his abilities. And when
someone offered to take him off their hands, warning them of the danger

Jeannie posed, they would have agreed. Better to have a second child than

one that could kill you in your sleep. Better to turn a blind eye when the

suited man who knew the nature of their son came to collect and started him

under Siri before he reached his teens.

Arachne considered it mercy, then. The Instructors would have killed

Jeannie’s parents anyway, just six months after taking him. At least Arachne

could offer Jeannie freedom.

More importantly, Jeannie had a role to play in Arachne’s tapestry of

fate.
Something that Arachne had revealed to him in his final days, when

he’d invited him to the solarium, the golden letters glittering around them.

“Jeannie,” said Arachne as he finished painting a complex set of

interweaving fates and stood back to admire his handiwork. “Fetch me my

pipe.”

“Your pipe?” asked Jeannie, still young enough to retain innocence in

his eyes. “But you don’t smoke!”

“When you can see your life span shortening every time you take a puff,

it loses the allure. A statistic that your death is several minutes closer is one

thing—actually feeling your time on earth shorten is another. But they no

longer have that effect on me, so why not?”

 Jeannie shook off Arachne’s reference to his death —apparently, there

were still a few weeks of life within him. He’d already lost one set of

parents and was not eager to lose a second, though Dieta would always be

there.

At Arachne’s direction, he found the small pipe at a side table, along

with a matchbook, bringing back both to the resting prophet. Arachne

accepted them, lit his pipe, then removed a single match, holding it back out

to Jeannie.

“Tell me, Jeannie, what do you want to do when you grow up? Do you

have aspirations?” Arachne asked through a puff.

“I’ve seen the storm chasers, or weathermen. I think I could do that!”

Jeannie said, and traces of lightning seemed to flash through the whites of

his eyes.

“I think you would be excellent at those. But I see more in you, much

more, Jeannie. I think you could start something, something big.”

“Something big like what?” he asked, his attention momentarily stolen

by squirrels chasing each other through the vineyard outside before turning

back to Arachne.

“Well, take that match. What’s the most you could do with that match?”

“I could burn something. Like I could start a big fire!”

 “Right. With it, you could light my pipe, but you could also burn down

my house. But from that single match, that tiny bit of phosphorus among a

flammable world, you can inspire great change. Tell me, Jeannie, how
would you control that flame? What would you do if you wanted to keep it

contained?”

“Like a campfire?” asked Jeannie, his brow furrowing, the conversation

still slightly beyond him. “I’d circle it with a bunch of stones or something.

That way, it couldn’t get out!”

“Right. That’s really the concept of a steam engine there, containing the

fire, and using it to drive big change. The thing about this match, though, is

we never know when it is going to catch for sure. We have an idea, but what

if it were to catch fire in your pocket before you had a chance to light your

campfire? What if it burned you?”

“Then I would keep it in the campfire ring before I needed to light it,

just in case,” said Jeannie.

“Precisely,” answered Arachne, closing his eyes, the lines on his face

drawn. “Like that match, you have a great power within you. Once it is lit,

it’s not going out. And if I were to be alive, I could guard it like the

matchbook, ensuring it doesn’t catch fire. But without me here—well, there

are those who would intervene. Those who would try to light it prematurely
where it could cause the most damage.
 “So I’m going to offer you a choice, though you’re too young now to

fully accept it. But I want you to remember these words when you are older.

There’s an island, uninhabited and small, remote. It’s far enough away from

civilization, far enough that no matter what happens on that island, its

effects should be minimized elsewhere. I’m offering you a few years of

whatever you may wish upon that island. While we wait for your time to

come. Your match to strike.”

“You think I’m dangerous, then? Is this time-out?”

Arachne paused, holding back his answer, then sighed. “Not a time-out,

no. A precaution. But more importantly, you are a match that can only be
struck once. Once you start burning, it is incredibly hard to return back to

normal. Perhaps impossible. I think we would both prefer for you to have

control over your life than for someone else to set you off.”

Jeannie took a deep breath, looking out at the vineyard outside, what he

now knew as his home.

“Can I take Aunt Dieta with me?”

“Unfortunately, Dieta is the one request I cannot grant you. She must

stay here to guard my work. But you should have at least ten years until the

risk becomes tangible.”

Jeannie swallowed, and Arachne continued.

 “You wished to chase storms. One of the reasons I chose this island is

due to the frequency of storms upon it. You will not chase storms—they

will chase you. But I don’t need a decision tonight. Sleep upon it, Jeannie.

Consider it, remember what I ask of you. For we’ve talked about the

negative aspects—but tomorrow, you shall know the upside. Of who, and

what, you can become.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 55 Jeannie
“Walk with me,” Arachne commanded, and Jeannie obeyed, leaving his

seat at the breakfast table. The older man had grown shakier with each day,
but Jeannie still pushed away the thoughts of his death, refusing to believe

that it was coming. They entered the vineyard, and Arachne started moving
along the rows of vines, checking the bunches of grapes as he passed and

speaking.

“The thing about these vines is that when they were mere seeds, I would
never be able to tell them apart. Who is to say which seed should grow the

tallest or bear the most fruit? Or even if the seed matters at all, or if it only
matters where it has been planted.”

“Both would, right?” asked Jeannie. Dieta had showed him how to plant
them and care for them to make sure that they started to grow.

“You would think, but sometimes, it’s more than that. A Special is a
Special by birth. Think of them like the seeds that were planted in the

ground here that took root and grew. Plenty of those seeds never made it to

the surface, but Specials were the ones able to break soil. But the thing

about this variety of grapes is that, once every few thousand plants, there’s
something extraordinary.”

Arachne stopped at a vine that, at first glance, looked the same as the

others. Then he reached down, pulling away a grape and handing it to

Jeannie along with one from another nearby vine. Jeannie rolled them in his

hand, their sizes and weights identical, the one in his right hand red while

the other was closer to bright pink.

“Go on, try them. One at a time. Start with the red one and tell me what

you think,” encouraged Arachne.

“It’s just a grape,” said Jeannie, chewing the first. He’d stolen plenty in

his time at the vineyard and was familiar with how they had a slightly sour

twang compared to the ones from the store. Dieta had mentioned that

rainfall affected their taste, and to try to make a sweeter variety, he had

called down storms over one of the far fields every day. Then he’d
accidentally slept through one, and it gained in power over the course of an

hour, creating a vicious thunderstorm only an acre wide. By the time he’d

stopped it, no grapes were left on the vines. Hardly any vines were left as

well.

Sour grapes, he supposed, were better than no grapes, and he’d feigned

innocence when Dieta remarked on it the next morning.

“Go on, try the other one, then,” said Arachne after he swallowed, and
flavor exploded when Jeannie bit down on it. It tasted almost electric as its

acidity bit his tongue, combined with a sweetness nearly overpowering, far

different than the first. He wouldn’t have classified that as even within the

same type of fruit, let alone from the same variety on neighboring plants.
 “Like it, I see?” Arachne popped one into his mouth and smiled as he

savored the taste. “What you are tasting is a form of a mutation. It’s

incredibly recessive, and attempts at replicating it have proven largely

unsuccessful. If it were harvested along with the rest of my grapes, a single

would turn the wine sour before it entered the cask. A different type of

acidity, you see, and ruins the entire lot. When harvesting, my pickers are
specially trained to look for this variety and filter them out. If even one

makes it through, it’s catastrophe.”

“Why would anyone want to grow it, then?” asked Jeannie as they

started walking again, taking an aimless path through the vineyard. In the

distance, he could see workers tending the plants, but Arachne had always

been largely removed from the operation. Compared to Lee, the man hardly

ever drank, and Jeannie had rarely heard from him about his vineyard —at

best, it seemed to be a side project that barely occupied his mind.

“Mixed with other grapes, the mutation may wreak havoc. But

separated out, and alone, it produces a wine far superior and more valuable
than regular grapes. Just one bottle of the enriched variety, as it is called,

could easily sell for the price of fifty standard ones.”

“So that’s why you’d want to make more. You wouldn’t want to just

throw them out, then, right?”

 “Some farmers would disagree with you. Let one of the mutation live,

and there’s the chance that it could spoil the entire year’s worth of earnings.

They’d prefer to rip it out of the ground than let it thrive, siding with safety
rather than potential. A wasteful mindset, but a conservative one. Then, of

those that agree with you, they take greater care of these vines than any

others, but they separate them away. They know too well what could

happen, yet still seek the prosperity from the mutation.”

“Well, which one are you, then?” asked Jeannie.

“Me? Before my recent condition, I was working on transplanting these

to form their own field. Difficult to create and nurture, but not so difficult to

move once they reach maturity. Seems that they could thrive in their own

environment, and the entire vineyard would reap the benefits. But,

unfortunately, before my sickness, I only managed to move a few. When I

made these fields, I created them with the intention of maximizing the

chance of the mutation. So after my passing, if any regular harvester were

to come along, it would be incredibly difficult for them to make a standard

bottle.”

“Are you saying that you want me to take care of your vineyard for

you, after… you leave?” asked Jeannie.

Arachne gave him a blank look, then broke into chuckling laughter.
 “Oh no, no,” he said, wheezing for a moment, Jeannie rushing over to

support him as best he could while Arachne nearly toppled over. “For all I

care, the grapes can go wild. Jeannie, the point I am trying to make is your

powers are one in a million. Without proper care, they’re dangerous. And

there are people who will fear you without good reason, who would rather

kill you than let you thrive. I had planned to make a community for you,

with others like yourself, such that you could support each other. But with

my passing, that will not be possible.

“That is why I offer you the island. Within you, there is power to do

great good. But if you try to mingle yourself with others, with normal
Specials, I’m afraid you’ll find that you will spoil the bottle. Why do that

when you can make something far superior?”

“Going to live by myself doesn’t seem so superior,” said Jeannie, and

Arachne nodded.

“It won’t be, not for a time. But you can feel the pull of the storm

already, can’t you? The longing to become it? So it is with those of your

mutation; they become something more than human. Something different.

Eventually, you will succumb to that—not just succumb to it, but find

pleasure and fulfillment in that.

“What I offer you is a way to do that without killing thousands. But

rather, saving them.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 56 Jeannie
Jeannie finished packing his bags at midnight, holding the ticket that

Arachne had bought him before his passing. Ten years had passed, and they
had been easy years. Happy years. Times when he forgot about the date

printed on his ticket long stashed in his dresser, and laughed with Dieta and

Lee, playing games with them late into the night or hearing Lee’s half drunk
stories that were at best only half true.

He checked over his belongings, making sure that everything important

was included. There was a picture of Dieta and Lee. A note of instructions

written to him by Arachne. Plenty of clothes for his travel, though Arachne
stated all he would need to live would already be at the cabin, and he could

order whatever else he wanted in weekly drops. At the back of the note was
a bank account and routing number in Jeannie’s name, with more money

than he’d know how to spend in a lifetime. Then there was his case of

storms, each of them unique, each holding their own power and
temperament. Some fierce, some morose, some blisteringly exultant.

Jeannie forced the zipper closed on his backpack, his clothes rolled tight

and pressed in plastic bags to make space, his wallet stuffed with cash, his
clothes as dark as night. Then he stepped outside to his favorite spot on the
rooftop, looking out into the distance where two pinpricks of light waited.

The pickup car that Arachne had promised was waiting.

Walking out to the edge of the rooftop, he drew in a deep breath as he

looked back at the estate. This late, all of the lights were out. Lee would be

passed out, and Dieta fast asleep. Crickets chirped, and an owl hooted in the
distance, seeming to create a tune of suspense as he pondered the ticket

clutched in his hand.

The car would be there for another hour. And Arachne had said it was

his choice, even now. He could still turn around, climb back through the

window, and no one would ever know he had even made a decision. Maybe
Arachne wouldn’t be proud, but Arachne no longer had the capacity to be

proud either, now that he was buried.

But as the years passed, Jeannie had noticed what Arachne had implied.

Within him, there was the growing desire to meld with the storm—with

each day, his powers grew. He could inspect storms from miles away as

easily as he could look at his own fingernails, and could guide them like

pieces on a chessboard with an idle thought. Today, he stood over the

chessboard, directing them. But he yearned to be on that chessboard,

embracing the power rather than watching it from outside.

That would never happen if he chose to live a normal life. And as much

as he tried to ignore his nature, there were signs of it everywhere. In the

way Dieta would never let him leave the estate. In how Lee would flee

inside whenever a storm cloud came, after one had raged just beyond

Jeannie’s control when he was first getting acclimated to his powers. He’d

slipped then, and he admitted now to himself that it had not actually raged

beyond his control; rather he had wanted it to grow larger. He sought its

development, pushed it, and only at the last moment, stopped himself
before it started picking the estate apart down to its foundations.

Jeannie shook his head in the night. He would never be normal, he

could never fit in with the others his age. The idea of a storm chaser or

weatherman bored him now anyway.

So he called forwards the wind and stepped from the rooftop into a

torrent of air.

The column followed him as he moved, spewing up dust and blades of

grass, and he walked through midair, slowly sinking as if on a ramp. Then

his feet touched down, and he was off, weaving through the vineyards until

he reached the car, his dark clothes concealing him and small sparks from
his fingers lighting the path. The driver nodded to him, opening the door as

Jeannie approached.

“If there is anything I can do to make the ride more comfortable, you let

me know,” the driver had said, and Jeannie sensed the tension in his voice.
He wondered if Arachne had warned the man he was carrying volatile

cargo.

“Nothing at all. I just intend to read,” said Jeannie, stepping into the
black car and sliding into one of the black leather seats. He kept his gaze

forwards as he left Dieta and Lee behind, refusing to think of their reaction

when they found his bed empty the next morning. Dieta would never have

agreed to this, and Lee would have told her. He’d had to keep it secret,

though the clashing of his emotions brought with them a wake of storm

clouds behind the car.

Jeannie turned on the light, then fished around his backpack, pulling out

the old letter from Arachne. He reread it again for the hundredth time in the

last few months.

Jeannie,

Know that the road before you is not one commonly taken. But traveled,

I suspect it will have the happiest outcome both for you and the world. With

it, you may embrace your powers and nature, and the world may prosper.

Some time after you reach the island, on the date written on this

envelope, you will be accompanied by visitors upon your domain. Some

with ill wishes, and others with pure ones. At a glance, I suspect you shall

be able to tell the difference, but I can tell you that all that glitters is not
gold. Especially diamond.
 Your target goes by the name of ‘SC’. You must deliver this message to

him: That you are to give him his greatest weapons.

The first is this message. That there are many Titans still on the run, and

that without sweet song, they shall continue to wreak destruction. This,

alas, is my own fault—I gathered them for good intentions, but they have

been stolen for me. You must let him know that, if these Titans can still be

used for good, then their power will be incredible. And should they hear

that sweet song again, the first thing that those who seek to abuse them will

do is gather them. There will be a convergence as they prepare for war, an

opportunity for you all.

The second weapon is, of course, yourself. Your very nature. Remember,

you are the match that can set alight the world.

Let it burn.

I only wish I could see it.

With love and sincerity, may you walk with confidence upon your

strand,

Arachne, Weaver of Fate

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 57 Lucio
“Oi! Oi! That blue one is turning on back. Pull on over, to the right

here!”
Lucio killed the gas, sliding out on his back tire. Slugger’s additional

weight combined with his enormous stone bat threw a wobble into the
motion, and they nearly sprawled out, the tread barely catching on rock.

“The hell, you know you can stop smoothly? You’re going to kill us!”

shouted Slugger.
“No, that’s what all the newbies do. Haven’t you seen the movies? No

one in the movies takes a slow stop if they’re any good.”

“That’s what ya are, a newbie, not a movie star!”

“Third place in the Film Festival says otherwise,” said Lucio as Slugger
hopped off. Then Slugger inspected the area before him, a natural

depression in the rock with a incline on the other side, forming a sort of
bowl with a hill backboard. He kicked a rock down into it, watching as the

pebble skittered down and was drawn to the center.

“Aye, here’s the place Ennia spoke about. Looks perfect for fighting our

star fire guy, eh? Can’t hit me from the back with fire rain with that hill
behind me. She said that so long as the blue power was here, I’d get toasted

without Ennia to help—but ole sparkly boy just sent her back up the

mountain. Here, we’ll take them.”

 Beside them, Arial alighted down, catching Slugger’s last few words.

“Try to fight them here, and Blake will slice you apart as you play

dodgeball with star fire,” said Arial. “Lucio’s power is already useless

against Blake; won’t be much help here. We need to think strategically, not

just rush into a fight.”

“Then what do you say we do? Lead them in a trek around the

mountain? I’d rather knock ‘em on their ass here.”

Arial leapt back into the air, surveying the others approaching. Like

Slugger had said, one of them was heading back towards the mountain—

fortunately, at a slow jog after the rushed descent. Blake raced ahead of the
boy, who was clutching his side, the yellow light around him long dimmed

from focusing on running. From her estimation, there was thirty seconds

until they would arrive.

She looked back over the mountain, to where SC had still not returned.

Uncertainty crossed her mind as she wondered if he was safe. What even

would happen if he tried to jump into the portal while moving at full speed?

Would he continue moving that quickly in the subway and smash into the
wall there? Maybe she had not found anything left of him because it was all

on the other side.

Anxiety hunched her shoulders together for a moment, and she clenched

her mouth shut to keep from speaking to herself. She knew that they
shouldn’t have come here, that there would be too great a risk. No one in

their group had died yet, or so she thought, but what if—

She shook her head, pushing away the thought. SC should have listened

to her! But now, Blake was still approaching. And she felt heat starting to

rise from her shoulder, as her anxiety converted over to anger, the transition

eased from a pounding headache from caffeine withdrawal.

It wasn’t SC’s fault that something had gone wrong—not this time, not

last time, or the time before that. Sure, he’d placed himself in the wrong

position. But their troubles were the fault of the academy and those who

had worked with them. This was Blake’s fault.

Last time, in Rome, Arial had considered the expedition a loss. But now,

she clenched her fists, her glare turning to Blake. This time, she would win.

And Blake would sorely lose.

In her blood, she was a hunter. And Arial was tired of running.

She darted back down to earth, where Lucio and Slugger were waiting.

“You’re right; we’ll make our stand here,” she said, straightening out
her shirt from where the wind had tucked the bottom into a belt loop.

“Aye, now that’s what I like to hear!” said Slugger. “That’s three on

two!”

“Three on three,” said Lucio. “I won’t be much help here. Instead, I’ll

use my strength.” He patted the side of the motorbike and revved the
engine. “One of them is getting away back to SC and the others. I won’t let

that happen.”

“Regroup after, top of the mountain,” said Arial. “We’ll need to find the
portal to get out of here, and to find out what happened to SC. We’re

eliminating this threat first, though.”

Lucio took off, kicking up dust as he sped behind them, and began to

loop back towards the mountain. Slugger jumped down into the bowl,

holding his rock pilon like a club and clearing away a patch of clear ground.

“Arial, just lure ‘em in here, and I’ll show them hell.”

“No, I won’t be luring them in,” said Arial, then reached up to tie her

hair back. She flexed her fingers and rolled her shoulders, eyes narrowing.

“You’ll be taking star fire. And I’ll be taking Blake.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 58 Blake
Blake laughed as he sprinted the last hundred yards between him and

his quarry. It was a laugh without joy, or sadness, or a standard emotion.

Instead, it seemed maniacal, like the calling of a hyena. A bit of sound to fill

the void, driven purely from the rush of adrenaline.

With each step, the crystal around him grew thicker, forming armor

plates on his forearms and shins while sprouting barbs along his back. That

was one thing he had to thank SC for—after part of his hand was destroyed
in one of their battles, he’d experimented with re-growing diamond flesh

over the wound. When that had worked, he’d expanded on the concept—not
just changing his skin to diamond, but adding features. Anything beyond a

centimeter or two required intense concentration, but that still left him with
plenty of options to increase formidability.

He’d spent weeks playing with combinations to find the deadliest.

His shielding for arms and legs were not intended for protection—

rather, the increased surface area and rounded exterior allowed him to

buffet opponents away just as effectively as turning aside weapons. They

served as four clubs attached to his body, but he’d kept the edges sharpened,
forming short blades along the length. He called it the thrust and retract, or

to stun then to slice. A dual combination few anticipated, and let him saw

through attackers with ease.

 His claws, he now considered standard. But the barbs on his back were

relatively new —with his power, Blake could take serious damage. More

than once, he had been blown backwards in a fight, colliding with the

enemy and landing in a heap, where he would have to fight his way out of

the pile before returning to face an adversary. But with the barbs, he became
human shrapnel—when colliding with others, he’d cut them, deep. A well-

timed spin in a fistfight would leave scores of lacerations across an

opponent. And anyone trying to sneak up on him from behind with a

headlock would find their torso punctured, as if they had tried to sneak up

on a porcupine.
But the most drastic change was likely his face, something he’d focused

on after he’d been ripped to shreds by his handler after returning from his

last mission. His teeth resembled a cat’s more than a humans, long enough

to hang over his lip and serrated at the edges. He’d hardened his ears

against the side of his head, forming a smooth mass to prevent them from

catching on anything. His nose hooked into a sharp blade for close quarter

combat, a knife from the center of his face. And on the center of his
forehead was a deadly point, a short spike rather than a horn, that turned

headbutts from stunners to knockout hits.

When he’d stared in the mirror afterwards, it felt as if he’d created a

new version of himself. A perfect citizen, a small voice sang in his ear, a
voice he still heard late into the night. Siri’s melodic words, which rang out

in him strongest when he fought, forming a chorus that rejoiced with each

blow, hitting a crescendo whenever he came out victorious. For her, he

would fight. Not for the others that handled him now.

First, it had been Lacit—he’d been the one to rescue Blake from

captivity after the rehabilitation facility, recognizing his potential. But Lacit
had gotten himself killed deep in the Amazon, and Blake had been passed

along to the person above him. A promotion, he supposed, but it seemed

more like an afterthought.

Not that he knew much of what occurred above him. But he did know

that he hated Lionel with a heat that made his skin shimmer when the

merest thought about him crossed through his mind. Two reasons drove that

emotion, two bitter reasons.

First, Lionel was weak. Blake had never seen the man use his power,

and he was small of stature and pudgy. Perhaps fifty years old, and with a

soft voice that seemed afraid to speak too loud. Perhaps that was how he
had risen to his position—a voice too afraid to make its own words, instead

repeating that of those above him. Like that of Sialia, their leader, who

Blake had only seen once, and that behind a row of bodyguards. But he’d

never forget that glimpse—a woman who looked as if she were on fire, the
cool purple flames playing across her skin, as much a part of her as his own

diamond skin was of him.

But the second reason he hated Lionel was because of the man’s
obsession with SC.

“Of course you failed again,” Lionel had spoken in his office, so softly

that Blake had to lean forwards to hear him. Listening was already difficult

with the singing in his mind, and Blake suspected the man spoke even more

softly to force him closer. His teeth turned diamond hard as Lionel

continued so that he could grate them as hard as he wanted without cracking

them.

“He slipped through your fingers, just as he slipped through Siri’s and

Lacit’s,” said Lionel, staring at Blake with eyes so watery that they always

seemed to have a film over them. “We almost had him, back then. Imagine

if we had—what a powerful piece for the chessboard he would be. You

realize you would be underneath him by now? That, that is a true power. A

fine candidate of potential. He would rise high, higher than you ever would.

Because he can actually accomplish something.

“We had one task for you, Blake—simply to keep the girl from getting

killed. We didn’t care how you did it. Damn, your skin is diamond; you

could have embraced her in a diamond shell for all that we cared. Do you
realize how far we’ve been set back by this? She was our best chance at
holding the other Titans under lock and key. Without her, at the merest

change of the winds, they will go rogue. When they go rogue, the world

notices. And we don’t like the world to notice.

“SC would have protected her well if we’d tasked him with it. Sure, she

died under him too, but that was from your botched actions. From you

interfering. I created him, you know, and him being stolen from us was

perhaps our greatest loss.”

Blake did know; he’d heard the story nearly a dozen times now. But if

he started speaking, he knew that he’d lose control. And that would lead to

an hour of soft lecture.

“It was my space program, you see. My idea, my orchestration. There

were others born into our care, but none like him. None with his

capabilities. If we could catch him for our own purposes, I would not

hesitate. But alas, what we cannot catch, we must destroy.

“Now, your next task is simply to observe. For this mission, you’ll have

two under you—two others that I have created. Weaker, but still effective.

Use them wisely.

“Don’t fail us again. When you let Francesca die, you spoiled so many

of our plans with the Titans. Damn, without her, we can’t even make more.”

Now, at his final approach towards SC, a surge of anger rolled over

Blake as he finished recalling Lionel’s meeting. And he screamed with

delight as he saw what waited for him.

Two. Only two waited to fight him, and SC wasn’t even one of them.

He would rip them apart, then when his claws sank into SC later, the

resulting elation would be that much more sweet.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 59 Lucio
Lucio accelerated, his blonde hair whipping across his forehead, the

thrum of the engine vibrating up through his spine. No one had ever
mentioned how sore a day of riding would make him, and with each bump,

his thighs complained, making him shift his weight backwards in the seat.
He was riding parallel with the ocean now, putting some distance between

himself and Blake, moving straight for a thirty count before turning left in

towards the mountain.

He gained speed, then rode in at a coast, keeping the engine quiet as he

scanned the mountain for movement. Then he saw her, struggling alone up
the path, about a quarter of the way up the slope. He’d be able to cut her off

easily, looping ahead of her then swiping back and forth with his motorbike.
With his speed, she’d have trouble hitting him with her power, and by her

staggering walk, she already looked about to fall over.

Now that he was distant enough from Blake, he revved the engine once

more, catching up to her in just a few seconds. He’d whip by before she

could react as his grip tightened, and he’d pick up even more speed on the

incline.
But then the engine died.

“The hell?” he said, kicking the sides as if he were riding a horse and

trying to restart the engine. But the bike only sputtered, and he looked down
at the fuel gauge to see the needle solidly past empty. A choice word

escaped his lips.

The girl whipped around as he drew closer, and blue light started to

coalesce about her palms, streaming inwards from the air about her. She

prepared to fire, the energy building, and he was now moving too slow to be
able to dodge. Instead, he threw his own hands up, calling out to her in

desperation.

“Hey! Relax. It’s just me!”

For a moment, confusion flashed upon her face. But then he was in

close enough range for his power, and memories began streaming into her
mind. From his prepared repertoire of stories, he chose adventure

companion, and broadcasted out the template.

A fleeting memory of her clutching the edge of a cliff face, and Lucio’s

face peeking above the rim as he extended a hand to pull her upwards.

Saving her from death, a memory meant to inspire loyalty and friendship.

A blurred night of celebration after a successful mission together.

They’d snuck away from the others with a bottle of wine, and she was still
embarrassed about crying to him about her homesickness. Lucio framed the

thought with a bit of extra life around the edges, as a memory she

cherished, and looked back upon more fondly than the actual event.
 A flash of Lucio arguing with the waiter at a restaurant after he had been

brought a burger with tomatoes on it. He was particular about tomatoes, she

knew, and despite her insistence to just pick them off, considered the entire

meal ruined. The entire ordeal had been exasperating, and eventually, the

waiter had returned with a fresh sandwich.

Lucio play wrestling with Troy and getting sorely defeated. Afterward,
he’d tripped the boy and ran away cackling, only to slip on a puddle and go

down himself into a pile of muck. She still laughed when she thought of his

face covered in a thick layer of grime, coughing as some of it managed to

enter into his mouth.

Emotions were Lucio’s key in convincing her. He fed her

embarrassment, sadness, fear, happiness, mirth, and more, fleshing out the

memories, coloring them, and leaving purposeful holes in a few.

Imperfections to make them more real. About ten in all, he delivered, each

with vague details—nothing in them that would set off a contradiction, each

generic enough to be placed into nearly any mind. Then he pulled away,
ready to tack on additional memories at a moment’s notice if she because

suspicious or discovered an anomaly.

For a moment, the blue light in her hands held, and he cracked a smile.

“Come on!” he shouted, throwing his hands wide. “What’re you going

to do, blast me? It’s just me!”

 He waited, tense behind his smile, in a moment that lasted all too long.

Knowing that if she fired, he would be roasted on the spot. But then her

face softened, and the blue light started to fade as she dropped her hands.
“What’d you get sent up here for anyway?” Lucio said, concealing his

sigh of relief, hopping off the motorcycle and walking over to her. He

grimaced, knowing that as he left it behind, the chance of retrieving it was

small. He’d have to search for gas—surely, they would have some. They

had to come here somehow.

“To guard the cabin,” she answered, starting her climb again as Lucio

fell in place beside her.

“Ugh, me too. You would think they could tell us that before we came

down the mountain, right? That Blake can be such a jerk sometimes.”

“Feels like all the time,” she huffed, sweat staining her back. “No idea

why Lionel made him leader.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve been meaning to ask you—why do you think that

is? Personally, I always thought you would make a good leader.” He left his

question as open-ended as possible. Whoever this Lionel was, Lucio would

find out more.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 60 Lucio
“Look, Estella, I know it’s against our protocol. But I’d say that after

these years of working together, it’s time we shared our stories. I’ve saved
your neck, what, five times? And you’ve done the same for me. I say we

just keep it a secret, and there’s no reason why we should ever tell the big
bosses. They don’t need to know. They’re jerks anyway.”

Lucio had just finished broadcasting a memory to her of a past

supervisor, warning her to keep her identity secret from other agents. He’d
added some blurriness to the memory, making it seem older, burying it a bit

deeper than the other ones in her mind. But he’d also added a touch of
cruelty to the supervisor, when he had starved Estella for an entire night

when she had failed a mission, and injected resentment into her to foster a
sense of rebellion.

Estella paused, catching her breath. They were now halfway up the
mountain, and Lucio was getting frustrated. All that she had said of Lionel

was that the man had made Blake leader in hopes that he would fail —he’d

taken a disliking to Blake and had given them their own orders around him.

But Blake had been Siri’s favorite, and the last thing Lionel wanted to do
was anger a Titan—even if that Titan was locked away deep in a jail cell.

Not just that, but Estella’s personality was bland—rarely did she give

him anything to latch on to, and she seemed to chew on her words before
they came out.

“Fine, but no one knows, then. Not even Troy,” Estella said, and Lucio

drew a finger across his heart.

“Cross my heart, it will be our tiny little secret. They only tell you not to

share details because if you die, it has less of an impact on the others, you
know. But I already think we’d both be devastated if the other died.”

“True, that wouldn’t be effective. But you first, since you suggested it.”

Lucio coughed, caught off guard. He hadn’t thought of his own

backstory, and at this rate, they would be to the top of the mountain before

he had a chance to hear hers. So he kept his as simple as possible in the

easiest way he knew how—by sticking mainly to the truth.

“Born in Hollywood, abandoned by my own mother. Lived the streets

for a while, then got picked up by a rehabilitation facility when they

thought I’d stolen a fancy lunch. Landed me in there, gave me some

purpose, and the rest is history. That’s about when I met you.”

“Off the streets?” she asked, looking him over. “Well, you cleaned up

nice. Explains a lot, though.”

“I’ve had some interesting mentors. One was particular about smells,

kept me from getting too dirty. But I’ve been off them a while now; only

takes one real good shower to wash off the grime. The hunger isn’t really

like that, though—you’re always still hungry, even when you’re full, even
when you’ve just eaten dinner. My food is my food, and I don’t like others

touching it.”

“That makes sense. Well, with myself, we never went hungry. Not for

lack of funding, at least.”

“Come on, I told you my background; now it’s your turn,” Lucio

wheedled.
“It’s a bit of a story,” she said, the words slow.

“We have half a mountain left and I’m bored.” Lucio had to stop

himself from rolling his eyes. Of course it was a bit of a story. Her life story.

“Fine. Well, you’ve seen our powers. I would think it is pretty obvious

to you that they’re not normal. You see, this is going to sound crazy—we

were born in space.”

“No way,” said Lucio, letting his draw drop. “I’ve never heard of

anything like that. You pulling my leg?”

“Not at all!” she exclaimed, and Lucio sighed in relief as she finally

opened up. “You wanted my story, this is it. Well, anyway, we were part of
a program to research new powers. Stronger powers. I think they assumed

that being in space would yield better powers, but that’s not really the case.

We’re, well, we were disappointments to say the least.

“My own power is what they nicknamed a Plasma Cannon. I can shoot

out plasma, but in actuality, it’s not that different from a typical
Flamethrower. And those powers are way cheaper to make. One application

that they found is that I can clean things extremely effectively, but they’re

looking for strong powers, not janitorial services.

“Troy is like me. His power lets him fuse together elements—but he

doesn’t have much control over it. Basically, he can build a tower of star

material and, at the top of it, can start fusing metals from the air. His power

absorbs the radiation, so there’s not much danger there. Not just that, but

once you realize that he’s just dropping hot molten balls on top of you,

there’s not much to it. No, he’s much more valuable because he can

synthesize some rare elements that are worth a fortune. So it we’re ever

tight on cash, he can help us there.

“There are a few more, but I only met them while I was young. A girl

who just glowed softly like stars at night. I don’t know what they did with

her, but she was even less impressive. A boy who just was a Regular, with

no abilities. Until we were ten or so, the program took care of us all

together, then separated me and Troy out since we were somewhat useful.

Lionel was the leader of that program back then, and he’s dying to go back

up there to try again, but they won’t let him. Too risky of drawing attention,

I think, but I don’t really know.”

“So that’s it, then? Lionel doesn’t have any crazy space powers he’s
hiding from us, right?”
 “Just us! I wish; he always used to be so disappointed about it. But then

this year happened. And he’s taken note, but they won’t let him act, because

the leader doesn’t think it’s worth it unless it’s a Titan.”

“This year? What do you mean by that?” Lucio asked, furrowing his

brows together, and Estella lowered her voice.

“I only know this because I overheard, but there’s someone else that

was born up there in space, that got away. Apparently, Lionel had no idea,

had to go find a ton of old security tapes to confirm it. But there was a

maid, and she had a son—and apparently, Lionel is dying to meet him.

Apparently, got his hands on some videotape of him using his powers, a
movie that they made. Heard it wasn’t very good, but the powers were

spectacular.”

Escape to Danger Island was a masterpiece, thought Lucio, stopping

himself just before correcting her, and she continued.

“And get this—he’s on this very island right now! Insane, right? Like

what are the chances of that happening?”

“That’s crazy,” said Lucio, fidgeting with his mind still on the film.

“What would Lionel do with him?”

“Well, the boy is on the other side; he’s one of the bad guys. So for

Lionel even to meet him, he’d have to change over, but I don’t think that

will ever happen. He looked pretty angry last time I saw him. But Lionel
always goes on about how that power would be the perfect one to lead our

Troy and me, the Starshot he calls us. Even said that to Blake’s face, and

Blake ripped his entire room to shreds after he left. So Blake would kill him

before Lionel even had a chance at recruitment.”

“Even if this Starshot kid had a change of heart?” Lucio asked.

“A change of heart? It would have to be pretty convincing, and they

would have a Truther verify everything he said. At the slightest lie, he’d be

dead. And that’s if Blake doesn’t get to him first.”

“But you don’t like Blake,” said Lucio, an idea slowly starting to form

in his mind. “Besides, your duty is to Lionel. If we could convince this boy

otherwise, wouldn’t your duty be to protect him? Then he could replace

Blake as your leader.”

“Might be just as bad as Blake, then.”

“Do you really think that’s possible?” asked Lucio, and she laughed.

“True point there. But if he converts over, I’ll eat my shoe.”

Then I hope you like leather more than Escape to Danger Island, Lucio

thought, and they neared the top of the mountain.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 61 Lucio
“Estella, I’m going to need to tell you a little secret,” said Lucio,

starting to drag his feet to buy them more time. He pulled a sorrowful face,
trying to inject guilt into it—the same face he pulled when SC’s mother

caught him stealing from the pantry. “I’m not really supposed to be here. I
wasn’t assigned to this mission, but to tell the truth, I’ve been trying to

impress everyone. Ever since I didn’t make it onto your core team, well, I

always thought I needed to make up for the lost ground.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Estella. “You didn’t make it onto our team because

you weren’t born in space; that’s all.”

“You could say that about any power. We all know how much that

matters. But the reason I bring this up, Estella, is I’ve never been told as
much as you have. They’ve always kept me a bit in the dark. I don’t think

they think I’m as worthy since I came off the streets.”

“Lucio, that’s ridiculous. I can think of plenty of times that Lionel said

something nice about you.”

Well, that’s a lie. I didn’t send any memories like that. But she’s a

pleaser. That’s good, thought Lucio, then continued speaking.

“Anyway, the thing is, I feel like I’m getting left behind. I wasn’t even

invited on this mission. I had to stow away to get here. Barely fit inside the

luggage bin. My problem is I don’t even know who to please or what they
want in order to be more successful. You wouldn’t understand; all the

leadership always looks at you differently.”

Lucio kicked a pebble across the path, shuffling his feet and keeping his

eyes down to the ground. Now he knew was the time to shut his mouth and

listen as she talked.

“I don’t know any more than you do, either. I report in to Lionel, who

talks to Sialia. I’ve only seen her once or twice, though, and I don’t even

know her power besides her being on fire all the time. All they care about

right now is trying to reel in the Titans, far as I can tell. Ever since Siri has

been captured, they keep trying different methods, but none of them are that
successful. And they don’t dare try to break Siri out—they know that if they

get caught, they could risk being revealed.

“Thing is, even if they can’t control the Titans, they’re still going to use

them in the Molding. They’ll just have to be more clever about how. In their

current state, they’re more like bombs than something that could be aimed.”

“The Molding?” Lucio said, and this time, Estella rolled her eyes.

“I know not paying attention is your specialty, but even you should
remember that! It’s when they’re using the Titans to remake the earth. You

know, make everyone stronger by removing the Regulars. Keeping the

deadbeats off society’s back. It’s like cutting out cancer; you get rid of the
bad cells, and that hurts for a while. But when everything heals, you’re

stronger afterward.”

“And when is this supposed to happen?” Lucio asked, keeping his voice

nonchalant as his heart started to race.

“Well, if they can’t get ahold of the Titans again, it will soon. They were

supposed to have them congregate in a few months to start going over

strategy. But, in their current state, they’re too volatile to wait. They’ll have

to use them before losing control.”

“Of course, that makes sense. Makes total sense,” said Lucio, and they

cleared the top of the mountain. Before them was the cabin at the center of

the lake, and Estella started to climb a rocky outcropping on the rim. When

she reached the top, blue light coalesced in her hands, rippling as it danced

between her palms. This close, Lucio could hear it humming, and he

suddenly wondered if she had found him out and was about to eliminate

him. Then she spoke, and the calmness in her voice soothed him.

“From up here, I can protect the cabin,” she said, turning back towards
the base of the mountain, a guardian at her post. “Unlike a Flamethrower, I

have slightly more range and can pick off anyone coming up this side of the

mountain if they reach halfway.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Lucio, studying the cabin at the island center.

Inside the windows, lights danced, and the stillness of the entire area made
him uneasy. “But what’s actually in that cabin? They never told me.”

“One of the Titans, of course,” said Estella, her voice only slightly

strained by the effort of holding the light in place, like someone moving at a
quick walk. “One that never joined our cause. That’s why we think the

others are here, because they want to try to convert him to their cause. We

can’t let that happen, of course. Think of all the awful things they could do

with a Titan.”

“You’re right there,” said Lucio. “Imagine if it got into the wrong hands.

They might do something crazy.”

But then, staring out over the water, something caught his eye. A shoe,

falling from seemingly nowhere, splashed down into the lake. Too far for

him to hear, and he turned quickly to see if Estella had noticed. But instead,

she was still staring out over the edge, her back to the disturbance.

Squinting, he peered upwards, then noticed the sliver of space slightly

darker than its surroundings against the sky.

“While you’re up there, I’m going to check the perimeter,” said Lucio,

and Estella nodded.

“Good plan. Make sure nothing has been disturbed, or they’re not

circling around the back.”

“Of course. I doubt that they’re clever enough to try a trick like that,
though. Don’t seem very bright to me, do they?” said Lucio, and Estella
laughed.

“No, they don’t. But you can never be too careful!”

You never can, Lucio thought, then started to walk around the rim. As he

moved, the sliver of dark space grew wider and wider, the angle becoming

perpendicular and allowing him to actually look inside it. Two faces peered

out, faces he immediately recognized as Ennia and who he presumed to be

Anton. Somehow, the portal had moved way up there, and they were stuck

in the subway.

They started pointing, and Lucio cocked his head. They were gesturing

at the cabin, probably trying to tell him that the Titan was inside. Of course,
he already knew that. They didn’t have to tell him twice to stay away.

But then Ennia disappeared, reappearing with a poster board and a

marker a moment later. She held up a hand for him to wait, then started

drawing large block letters before holding the sign for him to see.

SC, was all it said. And she pointed at the sign, then back down to the

cabin.

Lucio swallowed, understanding, and nodded to her. Then he continued

picking his way across the rim, stopping when the cabin was directly

between him and Estella. She still looked out over the edge of the mountain,

and he slipped into the water, the cabin obscuring her view of him. Then
slowly, he started swimming, paddling forwards without letting his hands or

feet break the surface of the water, reducing his ripples as much as possible.

SC was waiting. And as the lights flickered, Lucio shuddered at what

else might be.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 62 Arial
Golden light started to streak into the sky as the Special behind Blake

began powering up. Fire erupted along the tips of the star stalk, and metallic
balls rained down like hail towards Slugger and Arial. With her flight, Arial

dodged them with a few quick turns, only one nearly hitting her and leaving
the edge of her shirt smoldering.

But Slugger had other ideas and waited as the slag cascaded

downwards, holding his mighty rock pylon. He moved to the center of the
rock depression and raised his voice while spinning the pylon in a loop

above his head, the size of the rock completely dwarfing him and
whooshing with each rotation.

“It’s been a slow off season, but the stats from the analysts are in. After
an incredibly unprecedented eight hundred batting average last season,

Slugger is back—and this time, going for the full thousand! History has
never seen anything like this. Not the Great Bambino. Not Hammering

Hank. Sports fans, take note, and don’t you dare blink!”

The first flaming metal ball was upon him, and Slugger lashed out,

striking it with the tip of his makeshift giant bat. Just before hitting it, he
restored mass into the stone, letting its full momentum strike the ball. And

with an ear-ringing crack, the metallic ball sailed out of the depression,

speeding in a line drive directly into Blake’s chest.

 Flames splashed over crystal, and he stumbled for a moment, cracks

appearing over his diamond exterior as he straightened. Then he shook

himself once, the cracks filling themselves in with an effort of will, and

launched himself back forwards, more anger than ever displayed across his

face. There was another crack from Slugger, and Blake dodged left, the ball
sailing past him and into the stalk of star stuff behind. The construct

shuddered, the onslaught of flaming balls pausing for a moment, and

Slugger started shouting again as more slag rolled down the incline towards

him, leaving trails of dark ash in their wake.

“But perhaps most impressive is his batting average is not his only
record. What was he doing in the off season, you ask? The impossible! Not

only is he a pro in baseball, but this last hockey season, he placed third in

the Canadian league for number of goals scored. The Slapdash Slapshot

they call him, with pucks so fast, they burn holes in the net! And watch this:

not one, not two, but three practice shots are coming his way!”

Slugger wound up, choking up on the pylon and swinging at the rolling

balls. Each one of them connected, and they arced upwards, more like golf
balls than hockey pucks. And this time, one of them struck the Special

holding the stalk of star stuff on the shoulder, reeling him backwards as his

power collapsed. Slugger leapt from the depression, ready to pursue, and

Blake turned on him, rushing him with claws outstretched.

 But Arial was ready.

The last few seconds, she had mentally prepared herself, her nails

digging deep into her palms as she clenched her fists. She had blocked out

the sounds of the fight, instead looking deep inside herself, practicing the

technique she had learned in Rome. Taught to her by Divi, leader of the

Litious, who should have been a simple Regular but was much more.
Embrace the pain.

Arial took hold of the sensation and focused it into herself, searching

out for the place where she knew her power to be. Occupying part of that

sliver of herself was her flight, and she left that alone, not daring to meddle

with her own power. But on the other side, in the bits where her power

could grow but had not completely filled, there was emptiness. An

emptiness that she split from herself and reached outwards with, towards

Blake, as she flew directly towards him.

Activating both powers at once was like standing on an uneven board

on top of a full soda can, taking all her concentration to balance them,
where the slightest wrong movement would cause one to topple out of her

control. But she pitted them against each other, her mind burning from the

exertion, and crashed directly into Blake, her own will pushing against the

diamond exterior surrounding him.

As they made contact, his diamond melted away.

 Not all of it, but where their skin touched, she felt warmth, not the cold

of crystal. No sharp edges cut her, no claws dug into her back, and Blake

shouted with surprise as she lifted him up into the air, her momentum
carrying them upwards. He shoulder ached from the collision, but she held

him tight, her arms around his torso and ascending with difficulty as she

struggled.

But still ascending.

“What the hell did you do to me? Are you one of those Regular freaks?”

Blake demanded, and thrashed, but she held him tighter. She could just

barely control her flight—with the remains of half his diamonds, Blake

must have weighed as much as two others his size, and only the urgency of

her situation held her grip locked. She wore the suit that Lynns had given

her, the wing-like flaps under her arms giving her slightly more lift and

control, though the amount now seemed trivial.

“What we should have done a long time ago,” Arial shouted back, then

redoubled her efforts, lifting even higher into the sky like a swimmer

desperately trying to break the surface of the water. Fifty feet they had

ascended, but already they were five hundred feet away horizontally from

the battle and still gaining speed.

“Don’t you dare drop me on those rocks!” Blake shouted as they

reached a hundred feet up, and she could hear the panic entering his voice.
He wouldn’t know that she had only stolen his powers temporarily—he

would think that when he fell, his armor would not be there to protect him.

In reality, as soon as they lost contact, it would reform in an instant.

“Why shouldn’t I? But don’t you worry, I won’t,” she responded, then

teased, “What’s wrong, Blake? You scared? Not so tough without some

diamond to hide behind?”

She felt his hand groping along her scalp, then he dug into her hair,

seizing a fistful and pulling it tight. She yelped, but then focused on the

pain, and even more of his diamond shell faded.

“You think I care about my hair? If I drop you, it’s coming right out, but
it’ll be worth it to never have to see you again! Do you know how much

you’ve put us through? I want you to swear to me, right now, that you’re

never going to bother us again. That you’ll never come anywhere near us.”

“Why would I ever—” Blake started, but she loosened her grip, and he

yelped, his voice high-pitched as the words flooded out. “Of course! Never!

I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“And I want you to apologize, now.”

“Apologize for what?” he started, but she loosened her fingers again,

and the words leapt from his throat. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! You’re insane!”

She could feel him starting to shiver and bared her teeth in a satisfied

smile.
 “There, how hard was that? That’s better. We’re going back down now.

Hold on to my backpack; you’re hurting my arm and head with how you’re

holding me.”

He latched on, her straps tightening around her shoulders under his

weight, and she reached up in a smooth motion, unclipping them before he

could react. In the air, she spun upside down once, the backpack coming

free, and with it, Blake.

Two hundred feet down he fell, shrieking and screaming, splashing

down a mile out into the ocean as diamond erupted back across his skin.

But diamond sinks.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 63 SC
When Jeannie finished his story, I tapped my fingers against my leg,

thinking. I’d grown more accustomed to the streaks of lightning coming off
of him as he spoke, or the occasional gust blowing through the cabin, or

mist that formed at the end of his hair. Each time, if I stared long enough,
Jeannie would brush them away, regaining control over himself. And

whenever he lost focus for a moment, or the story reached a more

complicated part, the fringes of his power would return. Then I spoke, my
thoughts still churning.

“From what I take it, this Arachne should know whether or not we have
a chance at fighting back. But you are one Titan against who knows how

many? Even if you could take out two, and the rest of us could handle one,
we’re still in deep trouble.”

“You expect me to fight like this?” Jeannie said, as miniature lightning

fizzled off his skin. “I am like a dam, about to overflow. If you have me

fight, that dam opens wide up. Once it’s open, there won’t be any shutting it

again.”

“So if you can’t even fight, what’s the whole point? Surely Arachne
thought of something.”

“Perhaps when I become the storm, you can guide me. Pull me along to

where the battle is—after all, battles are chaos; no better place for a storm.”
 “If you’re a hurricane, there’s no way in hell that I can attack with you.

That’s like trying to have a surgery with a machete instead of a scalpel.

Who knows how many people would die—even some of my team?”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you. But I do know this—Arachne told

me that I’ll become the storm. As I’ve grown, I’ve realized that’s what I
want. With you or without you, that is what I will do.”

I bit my lip, wondering for a moment if there was any way I could win a

fight against Jeannie. If I moved fast enough, maybe I could send a dark

sphere right through his heart. But Jeannie wasn’t like Blake or the others I

had attacked. He seemed, he seemed like he was trying to help. Would

killing him while his back was turned make me into the villain?

“Look, Arachne said there was going to be a convergence,” said

Jeannie. “All the Titans in one place at the same time. Maybe, if we can

weaken them first, a well-placed storm will be enough to take them out.

Would that not be worth the lives lost?”

“Hold up, except there’s not going to be a convergence,” said another

voice, and the dark orbs I had prepared for Jeannie leapt into my hands.
Jeannie reacted more slowly, not calling forth his full power, but an

electrical charge building over his skin that seemed to sheathe his entire

body in crackling lightning. Like a person struggling to pour a thimbleful of

liquid from a gallon bucket. My heart thudded as I thought back to his

previous comment about being a dam, and knew if this was a battle,

winning could still come at the cost of my life.

“Hey! Chill out; it’s just me! Lucio! Let me in through this window.

They’re watching the front.”

I laughed as I saw Lucio’s nose poking through the cracked glass, and

sensing my reaction, Jeannie relaxed slightly as Lucio tapped against the

back window of the cabin. He’d managed to open it just barely, but it had

caught a wooden bar meant to keep it from opening the entire way. He

beamed as he saw me, then his eyes widened as he spotted the roiling mass

of electricity that was Jeannie.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll just stay out here. We just gotta talk. I

don’t need to be in there in there.”

“Won’t do you much good if he goes nuclear. Jeannie, power down. It’s

a friend.”

Jeannie drew in a deep breath, and the lightning dimmed. His face

concentrated, and with a great effort, the lightning quieted, changing from
roiling waves to mere ripples. Too great an effort for my liking, considering

how eager the lightning had been to come forth.

I unlatched the window, then pulled Lucio in. Water from the lake

dripped off him, drenching the carpet, and in his hand, he held a shoe.
 “Where have you been?” I demanded. “And why do you have an extra

shoe?”

“Long story. But this is Anton’s; he threw it at me to help me find you.

Thought he might want it back later. Not much use just having one shoe,

right? But anyway, now we know I’m all right, and I know you’re all right,

and damn, do I have some news.”

“This convergence, how do you know about it?” I asked.

“Got one of them to tell me everything she could. Blue sparkly power

girl; Estella’s her name. Thought we were old friends.” He tapped his

forehead and spoke to Jeannie. “Mind games. But don’t you worry; I’m not

getting anywhere near yours. That’s right, I’ll stay real far away.”

“What’s this about the Titans not coming back together, then?” asked

Jeannie, and Lucio continued speaking, the words coming rapidly.

“Problem is, they’ve lost the reins on these Titans. So instead of a

coordinated attack, they’re just going to unleash them on the world all at

once. Then I’m assuming they’ll pick up the pieces once it all blows over.

Not worth it or them to put the Titans all in one place, because if something

startles them, the Instructors could lose their entire stash of powers with

nothing to show but a crater.”

“Which makes sense,” I said, looking to Jeannie. “Assuming that

they’re in similar condition to you, it wouldn’t take much.”
 “No, it wouldn’t,” agreed Jeannie with a grimace as Lucio continued.

“Anyway, the point is this. Apparently, there is some guy on their side

with a real obsession for you, SC.” Lucio filled me in about Lionel, then

continued. “And without Siri, they won’t have the convergence So what

needs to happen, is for them to find a way to control the Titans and so we

can force this convention to happen, then take advantage of it.”

“Well, we lost Francesca,” I said with a grimace.

“She wouldn’t have been strong enough anyway. If there was anyone,

they would be using them by now. We only know one way that works, and

that is Siri herself. After all, Lynns said she was part Titan.”
“There’s no way that we’ll be able to convince the police to release

Siri,” I said, shaking my head, and Lucio practically spoke over me in his

excitement.

“Yeah, duh! And the Instructors won’t make a move on Siri because

they don’t want to attract the attention of anyone that might shut them down

before the big bonanza. But if two of her old students went to break her out,

it would look a lot different, wouldn’t it? Might seem like some of that

residual good citizen crap stayed in their minds long enough to make you do

something stupid. Blake’s already crazy enough; that should convince the

cops. All we have to do is get the Instructors to buy in to the idea, then we

ensure a convention, and potentially expose them in the process.”

 Lucio reached forwards, drinking the rest of my tea unbidden as his

eyes glazed over the partially prepared meal Jeannie had on the counter. He

edged towards it, then cast a wary glance at Jeannie, before sliding back to

his original position as I spoke.

“I doubt Blake would even be able to break her out. And what other

Special from the academy do you want us to recruit for it? I don’t know

where any of the rest of them even are now.”

Lucio rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“It’s times like these that I don’t think I deserve to be called the slow

one. Think, SC.”

“Oh,” said Jeannie, and a sheet of rain fell about him in realization.

“Storms, that might work.”

“What? How’s he getting it but not me?” I asked.

“Because he’s looking in from the outside. Called dramatic irony in

showbiz,” said Lucio, then leaned across the table, and his voice took on a

low, serious quality extremely rare for him.

“You, SC. You have to break out Siri.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 64 Lucio
“It all fits!” continued Lucio, waving the shoe he still held in his hand

like a musical conductor and pacing around the room, his fear of Jeannie
forgotten. “We need to find out more about the Instructors? Check. We need

to identify all the Titans? Bam. The Instructors reveal themselves? Donezo.
And the Titans are all in one spot for easy cleanup like a Zamboni? Bada

bing, bada boom.”

“Now rewind,” I said, still reeling from his revelation. “First of all,
there’s no way that’s going to be an easy cleanup. Second of all, how the

hell do you think we are to convince everyone that I’ve suddenly turned
sides?”

“Because none of them actually knows you besides Blake, and they
think he’s just as crazy as we do,” said Lucio. “Anyway, I had the idea

when swimming over. You’ve been trapped in this cabin with a Titan,
someone real connected with nature, you know. And now you see the light!

You got scared, or something, and realized how much firepower the

Instructors had behind them. You never wanted to be on the losing team,

right? So you’re defecting.”

“Oh, like that will work,” I said, my voice as dry as my empty teacup.

“I’ll just walk on over to Blake and explain my side.”

 “Ugh, just listen, won’t you?” said Lucio. “No, it’s time you started

learning more about acting. You’re going to be the star in this production.

The first thing that you’re going to do is turn on all of us. Slugger and Arial

have been duking it out with sparkly star man and Blake, and from where I

could see on the mountaintop, doing pretty well. Think they got the upper
hand. Now, when it looks like we’ve won, you’re going to come through

and wipe out our own team. Of course, you’re just pretending, but the

Instructors won’t know that.”

I started to speak, but Lucio held up a finger to show he wasn’t done

yet.
“Now, here’s the more tricky part. They’re going to want to be sure they

have you converted once you come back, and so they’re going to bring in

someone like a Truther or a Mind Reader. Which means you’re going to

have to actually believe what you have to say.”

“Which is impossible, since he’s not actually defecting,” said Jeannie,

barely following the story as new bits of information were quickly thrown

at him. His confusion was mirrored in a small trickle of water that dripped
out of his ears, freezing at the lobe to form icicles looking eerily like

question marks.

“You’re not saying—” I started, and Lucio cut me off.

 “I am saying that. You just so happen to have one of the few people who

can help you pass one of these tests. With fake memories.”

“Would that even work?” I asked, and Lucio nodded, a little more

slowly than I liked.

“It will, but—well, you’re not going to like this. I’m going to have to

give you some nasty memories. Actually make you really hate us. Don’t
worry; it’ll all be temporary! Everything else will still be there! But at some

level, you’re going to have to choose to believe the false memories more

than the real ones. You’ll need to suppress reality, which means I need to

give you enough emotions to be a bit irrational. Think of it like when you’re

in a fight, and you’re angry, and you don’t think about all the facts—you’re

only focusing on why you’re mad, and we need to put you into that state

semi-permanently. When we meet back up with you, I can clear them all

out.”

“And what if I get stuck that way?” I asked, my hand subconsciously

brushing my forehead.
“Not a chance, so long as I’m there to flush you out!” Lucio said. “Or,

you know, you spend a few years separating fiction from reality if I can’t

find you. But that’s only if we don’t meet back up. And I’ll make sure that

we do. I’ll give you reason to contact us in your memories. But these are all

just details—what do you think of everything?”

 “Brilliant,” said Jeannie.

“Crazy,” I said at the same time. “Because even if this all still works,

we’re left with one massive problem—how to handle the Titans after Siri’s
gone and collected them all into one spot. What if we just hand back the

enemy their most potent weapon, plus an enthusiastic me in the process?”

Lucio scowled and started to pace once more. With every few steps, he

threw the shoe into the air, where it spun once and he caught it with his

other hand, the rotation mirroring the cogs spinning in his own mind.

“Now that I think of it, this also fixes your problem, but not mine,” said

Jeannie. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. Whatever you’re

planning needs to involve me becoming the storm if you want my help.”

“The whole plan is insane anyway,” I said, and Lucio whipped towards

me with the shoe in mid-flight, letting it fall to the floor, where it bounced

to come to rest between us.

“No it isn’t. You heard Jeannie; it’s brilliant,” he stated, but I was

staring at the shoe on the ground, where something had fallen out from the

space between the laces and the tongue. Anton’s calculator, dripping and

ruined, an idea suddenly leaping back into my mind as it triggered a recent

memory. The lesson with Anton, where he had shown me how to

encapsulate it in a pocket of space like the one where I kept dark orbs above
my wrist. His words floated back to me then, echoing in my mind.
 A bomb could go off inside, and so long as you kept it sealed, I would

have no idea.

My eyes flicked upwards to Jeannie, and suddenly, everything clicked

into place, the pieces fitting together perfectly.

“You’re right, Lucio,” I said as the final details snapped, slight changes

that altered everything. “It is brilliant. With a few minor modifications, this

might just work. But we’re going to need to start now.”

I explained the remaining details to them, and Lucio cackled, his

laughter triumphant. Then Jeannie stepped forwards, his smile wicked, his

entire face now covered in a layer of frost.

“The wind blows at our backs,” he said. “Arachne left us with all the

pieces.”

“And a good thing too,” I said, still unsure on my feelings towards this

Arachne, whose good intentions had created a particularly nasty knot.

“Because this is his mess we’ve been sweeping up before it has a chance to

destroy the world.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 65 SC
“Your mind will need a few minutes to recover,” said Lucio as I lay

down on Jeannie’s bed. With the Titan departed, my powers felt sapped, and
a brisk chill still covered the room.

“Good. My body does too,” I said, groaning as I closed my eyes. “How

long is this going to take?”

“The memory download? I’d say about ten minutes. The recovery?

Thirty, maybe? Not sure. I haven’t done anything this extensive. Point is,
this is more than I usually try. I’m giving you an entire alternate reality

here. I can’t overwrite memories, so you have to choose to believe it, or this
will all be for nothing. I think I’ve covered all the plot holes and

inconsistencies, but I wouldn’t let yourself check anything too closely. Keep
emotion at the forefront of your mind.”

He’d spent the last few minutes at the kitchen table with a piece of
scratch paper, scribbling over it incoherently and crossing out pieces

seemingly at random. Then he’d wadded it up, tossing it into the trash, and

saying that he’d come up with most the memories on his swim across the

lake.
“And you swear you’ll lift it when this is all over?” I asked.

“No, I just want you to go around hating me for the rest of your life,”

Lucio said, sarcasm dripping into his voice. “Of course I will. Now, are you
ready?”

“Ready,” I said, and felt something press into my hands. A belt.

“Bite down on this. I don’t know how much you’ll grit your teeth, but

this is what they do in the movies. SC, this isn’t going to be pleasant.”

“You don’t say,” I answered, my voice muffled as I tasted leather.

“I mean it. Now, when you’re in recovery, you should be knocked clean

out. You’ll wake up alone here, I’ll be long gone so I have a chance to go

warn the others so they know what to expect and don’t think you’re some

sort of madman. Now try not to move too much—I don’t have anyone to

help me hold you down. You in control?”

I checked over myself, including the dark orbs I held in reserve, and

nodded, pushing my power away. I clutched the sides of the mattress, and

from behind, Lucio placed his hands on either side of my head.

Then I was drowning in darkness as the memories began.

There was no order to them, no single storyline. Rather, it was a flood

of images and emotions, flashing over me like a dream, none of the pieces

making sense on their own but interconnecting only in retrospect.

***

There were Lucio and Darian, huddled together at the academy,

whispering as they looked towards me. Lucio had thought his voice was

low, but it had carried just enough, the threat so quiet that I wondered if I
had misheard it. “If you tell him, I’ll kill you,” he had said as the muscles on

Darian’s jawline bulged. Then smiles lit up their faces as I approached, and

Lucio promptly changed the subject, while Darian’s eyes betrayed his

expression.

***

There was the subway, just weeks after I had been reunited with my
mother. Dozens of memories of her, and yet the one time I had entered her

room, I’d found nothing there. Simply bare walls and a mattress, but not her

clothes or belongings, despite me remembering them. And though she

always cleaned, the subway seemed dirtier than it should be, dishes stacking

up in the sink. Plus, the time I had tried to cook breakfast and found that all

her cooking utensils were missing—rather, there was only dust where they

had been, no sign of them ever being there.

***

Then there was Darian, left behind in the Amazon. No, a short video of

him, with Lucio’s laughter in the background. “Fire!” Lucio had shouted,
and the video cut just after a dozen spears embedded themselves into

Darian, pinning him to a tree. As blood trickled out of his mouth, and he

breathed his last breath.

“I’m sorry, SC,” Darian had wheezed. “I should have told you.”
 “He’ll never see this,” said Lucio in the background. But I had, when

he’d accidentally left the tape out on his dresser.

***
There was me listening behind a corner as Ennia argued with Lucio,

both thinking that I was on an errand. But I’d returned early, and in the

subway, their voices carried. “You promised you would pay me,” said

Ennia. “I did everything you wanted. You said you wanted motivation for

him to attack the Instructors? Well, I made sure the Litious were wiped out

and framed them for it. You wanted me to rally my people against them? I

took care of that too. What more do you want?”

“Just a bit longer,” said Lucio. “Look, you want your money? My

masters have everything you need, once we get ahold of the Titans. Do you

realize how close we are coming? SC is the key to operation. Just give me a

few more weeks. Oh, and when we get to Rome, there’s someone we have

to take care of. Someone who might be able to control the Titans, and we

can’t let that happen. I need you to convert her to our cause—and if that

can’t happen, engineer her death.”

***

Slugger held me down, throwing a blanket on top of me and giving it

the weight of a lead block as I struggled. He pressed down, narrowly

avoiding the dark orbs that I shot out.
 “Lucio!” he shouted, panic in his voice. “Lucio, the bastard’s figured us

out! Fix this, now!”

Then there was the running of feet, and Lucio appeared, his hands

coming down on either side of my head.

And when I awoke, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Slugger and

Lucio were bickering over a board game, and Arial kissed the top of my

head, checking my temperature.

“You look better!” she announced, smiling. “You’ve been sick for three

days. And the nightmares, are they gone?”

I stared in confusion, then nodded. It’d just been a dream. Besides, I

could practically still taste the chicken soup that my mother had made me.

And my head pounded.

***

Then there was Arial and Lucio, when they had staged Lucio’s

disappearance and met together at night, just beyond where we slept on the

island

“I don’t think I can do this much longer,” Arial said as I feigned sleep.

“I can’t stand being around him; makes my skin crawl. Do I have to keep

pretending?”

“We’re almost there,” Lucio said, taking her hand as her head rested

upon his shoulder. “All this planning is not for nothing. So long as we keep
the Titans out of the Instructors’ hands, they’ll go off one by one. And we’ll

be part of the new order to pick up the pieces, I promise. Don’t worry, as

soon as SC’s served his purpose, you’ll never have to see him again. It’ll be

just us.”

“Just us. Can you just send him more memories of me hugging him?

You know I hate touching him,” she whispered, her eyes reflecting

moonlight as Lucio nodded. Then she tilted her head, meeting Lucio’s

mouth in a lingering kiss as blood thudded in my ears and my reality came

crashing down.

***

Rage boiled through me as I awakened. Something was wrong.

Something had been wrong for months. And as I sorted through the

memories, I realized what it was.

I’d come to the cabin the night before, prematurely launching the

catapult, bringing the portal with me. Hyperventilating as I pieced

everything together.

There was more, I knew. Bits of what felt like strings attached to the

memories, another layer underneath. But I was too angry to focus, and I
shouted in anger inside the cabin, my muscles tensed as dark orbs sprang to

life, whipping in a cyclone around me. Carving through the walls, the floor,

everything in reach in a path of destruction. Until the final timbers creaked,

and the cabin came crashing down, my dark orbs absorbing all that came

near. Then I launched them into the sky, ripping them apart in an enormous

explosion, the burst of light rivaling the sun.

As I remembered how I had been tricked.

That ever since the academy, Lucio had been using me, convincing me

that we were the good guys, and the Instructors the bad. He’d killed Darian

for trying to tell me, pretending to leave him in the Amazon. He’d hired

Ennia to fool me and eliminate Francesca. Together with Slugger, they had
meddled deep with my memory the last time I had almost found out. He and

Arial plotted against me, using her to distract me whenever I became too
suspicious, while they enjoyed a secret relationship behind my back.

My own mother had died long before, with him only feeding me
memories of her alive in the subway to placate me.

And now, they would know my wrath.

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Chapter 66 Arial
When Arial returned, Slugger was sitting on top of the chest of the other

Special, casually swiping a chipped piece of rock over his body to disrupt
the stalk of star material starting to form.

“Oi, cut that out. Gonna be your last warning there, lad,” said Slugger,
then climbed to his feet, leaving the other boy on the stone. His clothes

were pulled tight, nearly breaking at the seams, and Slugger left the toe of

his shoe pressed up against the boy’s shirt. His face had turned red from
struggling to breathe, and the enhanced weight of cloth pressing against him

prevented him from even scooting along his back in an escape.

“‘Bout neutralized,” Slugger said. “Turns out he doesn’t have any

capabilities when you get real close up. Just keeps trying to grow another
stalk, and I’ll just keep snippin it away. Him and Blake were definitely

paired for short and long attacks, but you fixed that one, eh?”
“Ocean is taking care of it for us right now,” Arial said, and looked out

towards the sea. From where they stood, she couldn’t pick up any sign of

glinting and had not stuck around long enough after dropping Blake to see

if he resurfaced. She blinked, a sudden ringing filling her ears for a

moment, her vision swimming as she shook her head. *Was that Blake

screaming? Or had she just imagined it?* Then she steadied herself,
regaining control over her body, and turned her eyes to the pinned-down

boy.

“You want to go for a swim as well?”

“No!” he gasped, trying to writhe out of his shirt. But Slugger moved

his foot to press down on his stomach, the extra force making the air in his
lungs come out with a cough.

“Lookee here, we got two ways of doing this. One, you can try to fight

us the whole way, or run, and that’s not going to go so well for you. Arial

will then fly you into the ocean, and I can give you enough weight to

piledrive you down to the Marinara Trench, or whatever the scientists call
it. Won’t matter much to you once you’re down there, will it?”

Then Slugger leaned forwards, putting a few more pounds on his foot

before stepping off, and changing his voice to lighter and more jovial.

“Or, you can tell us everything we want to know. Sound like a deal?”

The boy’s eyes flicked to each of them, then he nodded, croaking out,

“Deal.”

“Alright. Well, this is Arial, I’m Slugger. Since we have a deal now,
what’s your name?”

“Troy.”

“Alrighty, Troy, question one—how many of you are there on this

rock?”
 “Only three,” Troy said, speaking easier as Slugger pulled a bit of

weight off of him so he could talk. Then Arial added to the question.

“Besides you and us, anyone else? Who’s in that cabin up there, and

how did you now we were looking for Lucio?”

“I have no idea who Lucio is, but there’s a Special in that cabin. Real

strong, won’t let any of us in, but that’s why we thought you were here. To
try to convert him to your side.”

“One of the real unstable ones, is he?” Slugger asked. “You know the

type. Titanic, I might say?”

“Exactly,” said Troy. “None of us has gotten a good look at him, though,

and so long as we don’t approach, he hasn’t bothered us.”

“Alright. Now, that other Special of yours, the blue lass. She’s up there

guarding the mountain, ain’t she? One of us went after her, but let’s assume

he had some trouble. How would we defeat her?”

“Estella? She can’t fire off quickly. Takes her a while to build up, just

have two people approach from opposite sides and attack as soon as she
fires on one of you.”

“I never did like a traitor,” said Arial, looking down at him. “But in this

case, you’re helping our cause. Alright, how did you get here? And how

come there is only three of you?”

 “Parachute in, then we have a pickup coming in a few days. It was

pretty low priority, they’ve got their hands full reining in all their Titan

Specials, so we were sent here to take care of this. Nothing was supposed to
happen, we thought it was just a message drop. Hell, the Titan was our first

big surprise, and when we relayed that back to the rest of our team, they

moved up pickup time to tomorrow. I think they’re going to want to take

him with us.”

“We’re not going to let that happen,” said Arial flatly. “Slugger, let him

up, but keep his shirt heavy. We don’t want him to run off. Troy, better pray

that SC is all right, or you’re going straight into the ocean as retribution. Do

you think Estella would shoot at us if we’re with you?”

“I—I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Fine then, you lead the pack. Up the mountain we go. One quick move,

and you’re done for. You saw what happened to Blake.”

She forced him ahead of them, with Slugger’s hand on his back, and her

eyes watching for any glimmer of a power starting up around him. With her

fresh ability from the Litious, she could shut him down immediately—but it

was much easier to stop powers from coming into existence than to

completely reverse them.

“Speaking of Blake,” Slugger said, turning back to look at her,

inspecting her shirt. “How the hell did you not get shredded as you held
him?”

“Turns out Blake is a bit scared of heights,” Arial lied, hiding her face

under the pretense of looking back out to sea. “All I had to do is tell him

that at the first sharp prick I felt, I’d be dropping him.”

“Then you went and dropped him anyway?” Slugger whistled

appreciatively. “Outstanding. Wouldn’t have expected it from you.”

“Neither would I,” Arial said, then thought back to her parents, and how

it was the Instructors’ fault that they had aged so much the last few years.

“But some people just can’t be fixed.”

Troy’s breath turned laborious as they reached the mountain base, and
Slugger lightened his load just a tad so they could continue walking. At the

top of the mountain, Arial could just barely see a figure atop one of the rock

formations, her hands shimmering blue as she waited.

“Either she sees you or we’re still out of range,” Slugger said. “If I were

you, I’d pray for the first.”

“Here’s the plan,” Arial said. “If she’s there, then we’ve accounted for

all three of them, assuming that he is telling the truth. That means that,

realistically, we’re in no rush. We can take our time making sure we beat

her without casualties.

“As soon as she starts to fire, you hold your ground here with Troy. I’ll

take to the air and approach from the other side. We’ll catch her between us,
and I should be able to dodge what she throws at me. I’ll take her into the

air like Blake then, and she’ll either agree to cooperate or she’ll be

swimming.”

“Aye, solid plan,” said Slugger. “But then what?”

“Then we figure out why Arachne even brought us here, where SC is,

and how we get home. We’ve had enough risking our necks for no reason.

It’s time SC and I talked, time he made a decision about his future,” Arial

said. “Worst case scenario, we have enough supplies to survive at least a

week, even if we can’t find more—”

She stopped mid-sentence as she was cut off, a boom and flash erupting

high above the mountain.

“It’s erupting!” shouted Troy, diving down for cover as Slugger squared

his shoulders. But Arial shook her head—she knew that sound. Somewhere,

up there, SC would be fighting, his orbs exploding.

And just a moment later, another figure cleared the rim of the mountain,

running full tilt down towards them. He waved, shouting at them, too far

away for any communication to come through but panic. Then she

recognized Lucio by his hair, racing down the mountain with a backpack
bouncing across his shoulders, dripping wet and terror written in his

expression.

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Chapter 67 Arial
“The Titan!” Arial exclaimed, launching herself into the air. “SC must

have triggered him! We need to get out of here, now!”

She launched herself into the air, flight path directly towards Estella,

who had turned in towards the center of the rim and started to glow a more
intense blue. Light built around her as she drew it in, and Arial fed more

power into her flight, a full sprint through the air that turned her into a

streak across the sky. She spread her arms wide, employing the fabric flaps
given to her by Lynns, guiding her through the air on her straight collision

course.
Just as she reached Estella, she pulled up, her muscles screaming as

wind caught in the flaps. The resulting blast of air collided into Estella,
knocking her off her feet as Arial careened overhead, turning a somersault

to come to a quick stop just above her. Something flashed in the corner of
her eye, and Arial threw herself upwards, spinning just in time to see a dark

orb detonate between her and the fallen Estella.

SC must have thrown that before seeing her, to protect her from Estella.

Well, Arial had already beat him to it, though the tips of her hair had burned
away from the blast, and her ears rang from the concussive wave. Now

she’d remove Estella as a threat.

 She dove back down, grabbing Estella under the arms as the girl started

to stand, then paused for an instant as she called upon her power from the

Litious. The darkness was there, and she beckoned it, biting down on her

tongue hard to summon it forth and pushing it in a rush towards Estella.

Under her, the girl’s power faltered, sputtering out as wisps of bright blue
light dissipated. But the world also darkened, a rumbling filling Arial’s ears

as heat rushed upwards from below—not real heat, but rather, the volcano,

as if she could feel its presence. She shook her head, pushing away the

sensation while focusing on the Litious’ power. Then Arial started to pull

Estella into the air just like she had with Blake before throwing herself
aside as she saw another black orb launched at them from the corner of her

eye.

Quit it, SC, I’ve got this covered. You’re going to get me killed! she

thought as the force of the explosion tossed her ten feet away, and a blur

like the afterimage of a camera flash obscured half her vision.

“Stop it!” Arial shouted, turning to see SC standing atop the wreckage

of the cabin in the center of the lake, water twirling up in spirals around him
to feed into two freshly formed black orbs. At this distance, his accuracy

would be severely limited, and if she picked up Estella in flight, then there

was no chance that he would be able to successfully attack only one of

them.
 But then SC pulled one of the freshly completed orbs into the air and

launched it back towards them, leaving a path of mist across the water

where the vacuum from the orb vaporized the surface of the lake. Arial was

now far enough away from Estella that SC should be able to hit her without

collateral damage, but the explosion would still rattle her to the bones. So

she tensed, preparing to dive back down the instant that it struck to toss
Estella into the lake, where her power might be far less effective since it

looked similar to electricity. Already Arial mapped out her flight path,

planning to grip Estella’s belt, which was now exposed under her askew

shirt for a quick lift, her attention focused on the girl.

She almost lost her arm as the dark orb ripped upwards from the water,

spraying Arial with foam as it arced directly towards her. At the last instant,

she moved left, and this time when the orb exploded, it was close enough to

her that it dropped her from the sky and threw her to the rocks below, where

she rolled as the sharp edges bit into her forearms and knees.

That last shot had not been intended for Estella.

It had been aimed at her.

“Arial, wait!” shouted a voice off to her right, and she saw Lucio climb

back up onto the rim. He must have turned when she flew upwards to SC,

his face cherry red from his race back up the mountain, his hands on his
knees. But SC had also seen him, and now that the afterimage of the

explosion had faded from her vision, Arial could make out his expression.

Rage.
SC looped his second orb around him once, then whipped it towards her

while she was still collapsed on the rocky ledge. Arial rolled out of instinct,

tipping off the rim of the mountain as the orb carved a deep rut in the stone

where she had been only a moment before, corkscrewing past her to

explode a hundred feet away.

That attack wouldn’t have stunned her with an explosion, or warded her

off. Instead, it would have severed her in half.

She gathered herself together as she tumbled down the mountain,

scrabbling against the cliff face to launch herself backwards with a quick

leg press, then catching herself with her flight. She pulled herself in a

semicircle with her momentum, gaining altitude above the rim of the

mountain once more, her ears still ringing as Lucio dashed towards her.

Whatever game SC is playing, he better have a good reason.

“Arial!” Lucio shouted, waving his arms with urgency. “It’s not—”

But he was cut off by a roar from the center island as SC generated two

force points behind him, his muscles straining as he flooded his power into

them. She could see space warp, twisting the image of him before her, as
the water of the lake leapt upwards to answer his gravitational call. Like a
waterspout, it crashed into his back, a column propelling him high into the

air and towards Lucio, his limbs flailing as the force of the impact carried

him halfway across the lake. Even with that amount of water, he wouldn’t

make it all the way to the other side.

But that hadn’t been what he was planning.

As he sailed through the air, he reached a hand high into the heavens,

and Arial saw something shimmering above the lake. Something that, from

the level of the water, would have been beyond SC’s reach, but at the height

of his jump, was just within range. A rectangle of black that whipped

through the air, downwards like a flyswatter towards Lucio as SC’s feet
entered the water, crashing over the other boy’s head.

The portal.

In that instant, as a doorway darkness engulfed him, Lucio was gone,

leaving nothing but air where he had been standing only a moment before,

his voice silenced.

The water erupted a second time, propelling SC upwards in another

jump, taking right to the water’s edge. He clung to the stone, pulling

himself onto the shore, disregarding the rocks lacerating deep into his

palms. Flicking water from his eyes, he left, leaving trails of blood across

his cheekbones, the red matching his fury. Then he raised a hand once more,

and behind him, the shimmering blackness of the portal quivered. As the
shock of the last minute washed over Arial, stalling her thoughts and

holding her to the spot, the face of the portal turned, revealing dying red

light flames from where Lucio had entered. SC threw his hand along his

side in a swipe, propelling the door towards her.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 68 Arial
“What do you think you’re doing? Have you gone insane?” Arial

shouted, the reality of the situation dawning upon her as she leapt
backwards and up, jerking her fabric flaps at the last moment to erratically

change direction. She twisted, the maneuver like an inverted U-turn as she
arched her back, her ankles trailing her in a tight arc. The portal zipped over

her, so close that the fabric of her shirt caught on the corner, wrapping

around the edge. For a moment, the door yanked her forwards—then the tip
of her shirt ripped off, sheared by the edge of the portal, and she danced

away through the air, so close to the opening that she could smell the must
of the subway leaking into the island air.

“You’d like me to think I’m insane, wouldn’t you?” shouted SC, and
launched an orb at her. She moved under it and towards him this time,

letting it explode behind her, and in a moment, another was forming in his
left hand. His eyes were wide, wild and bloodshot, and for a moment, fear

ripped through her. At any point, she could fly out of his range. But

something was wrong, terribly wrong, and she still had not found the Titan

that was supposed to be in the cabin.

The Titan must have something to do with it. Maybe it was like Connor,

the emotional manipulator at the rehabilitation facility. But it must have

done something to SC, and she cried out at him again as he concentrated his

power.

“Of course not! Did you hit your head or something? Calm down!”

“No! I’m done with the lies!”

SC blasted the dark orb at her, and from this close of a range, it would
be impossible to miss. Instead of dodging, she leapt forwards to meet it,

extending her hands outward as she activated the power from the Litious.

But using these powers was a contest of wills, and SC’s orb had been

delivered with the burning quality of rage.

Pain seared deep within her mind as she focused to keep flying while
subduing his power, dipping a few inches from the different aspects warring

within her. As the orb approached, she felt its desire to consume—a

voracious appetite set upon devouring all before it, from the particles of the

air, to the stone, to her very bones. She rallied her own determination, a

sense of alarm rushing through her as the orb refused to slow, and the outer

edges of it began tugging at her fingers. With a flush of adrenaline, she

redoubled he efforts, smothering its existence like the cap to a candle flame,
feeling her palms burn as the orb wisped away and dissipated before her in

a series of small explosions. Dark tendrils split and rushed around her, the

air smelling of ash and burning hair.

 “Lies? Since when have I ever lied to you? Calm down; we need to

talk!” she cried, her voice strained from exertion.

But SC’s face now held an expression of shock, his own eyes widening.

“You lied about your powers too? You had two? No, I won’t give you

the chance to trap my mind again!” he breathed, staring at where she had

disintegrated his orb. Then the rage on his face was restored, coupled with
strain as he pulled two more orbs out of the air. She knew he had to be

tiring, that he wouldn’t be able to keep producing them forever, that each

new orb taxed him closer and closer to exhaustion. To survive, she’d simply

have to outlast him.

SC too was aware of his capabilities, and this time approached with a

more cool and calculated attack. He stepped forwards, and the two orbs

circled around him, lashing out towards her in a pincer move so that she

wouldn’t be able to absorb just one. She dodged upwards, letting them

sweep past her feet, but instead of an explosion, SC pulled them back,

conserving his energy, using them to slash and cut like a dagger, rather than
as an expandable explosive.

She needed to draw him away, where the effects of the hidden Titan

might wear off and she could restore him to sensibility. She started to move

backwards, then Slugger appeared to her right, barefoot as he crested the

rim.
 “Oi!” he shouted to SC. “The hell you trying to do? You forget who the

real enemy is?”

“I think I’ve finally realized just who they are!”

SC turned his orbs towards Slugger, launching one of them before

Slugger could respond. In defense, Slugger pulled a boulder in front of him,

making the rock light enough to grate across the ground. Then the gravel

underneath cracked as he flooded mass into the boulder, making it far

heavier than natural, a crack moving down its center as it broke under the

stress. As the two met, the orb absorbed the outermost layer of stone before

exploding with enough force to send spiderweb cracks over its surface. But

the boulder held, and Slugger’s head leered over the top, jeering at SC.

“Hey, you nitwit, I know how your powers work! Can only hold so

much weight in those spheres of yours before they go poppin off. This

boulder weighs as much as a freight train; ain’t no way you’re drilling on

through! We’re your friends, lad! Snap out of it!”

Arial whipped around to SC’s back while Slugger held his attention,

then darted back once more as he turned, flinging his remaining orb at her

while trying to conjure a new one into his empty palm. The air darkened,

then resisted, space bending back to normal despite his command. She

knew his powers must be nearly tapped.

 If they could only get him to explode that last orb, he would be

defenseless.

“Friends? I’ve learned better,” SC snarled. “I’ve learned that I’ve been

fighting on the wrong side this entire time! It’s time for me to undo the

damage I’ve caused. Did you think you could use me forever? That I would

never catch on?”

Then he turned towards Estella, where she had recovered and was

watching the fight from the rocks. Blood trickled down her cheek

originating from a shallow cut on her temple, but she was cognizant;

nothing looking broken.

“It’s time I joined those trying to do actual good. I’ve seen the light,” he

said directly to Estella as his remaining orb whipped in circles around him,

preventing Arial or Slugger from approaching. It moved faster and faster,

more of a shield than an attack, a blur of the void, raising mist from the

water behind him to obscure their vision while releasing dazzling streams of

light as a distraction.

And from her perch on the craig, Estella’s hands began to glow blue.

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Chapter 69 SC
My energy had started to run low, but I was still burning rage. With

Lucio gone, there was no chance of them reverting me back, of

hoodwinking me once more.

Now, so long as I could trust my mind, I could hold them off with my
powers.

More than hold them off. I knew I could beat them.

That was, until my orb dissolved apart in Arial’s hands.

The sensation of my own power being ripped away from me hurt far

less than that solid piece of evidence of her betrayal. Of her harboring
abilities that she had never shared with me, indicative of an entire side of

her that I had never witnessed. That my suspicions and memories were now
confirmed fact.

Likely, they had hid her power from me in case I went out of control. So
they could neutralize me again, and Lucio could weave his spell on my

mind.

No longer.

As Estella gathered energy, Slugger leapt towards me, armed with the
pairs of gloves that he had received from Lynns in Rome. With lead woven

into the fabric, he could easily manipulate their weight and momentum,

letting his punches hit with the force of a semi-truck. At the same time,
Arial darted towards Estella, and leaving me with only a split second to

make a decision.

To protect Estella as Arial charged, I sent my remaining dark orb to fly

between them, controlling it with the back half of my mind, zigzagging it

back and forth as a distraction and barrier to her but not releasing it. Then I
turned to Slugger and raised my fists as he came within range.

Just one hit from those gloves, and I would be knocked out of

commission, at minimal a few bones broken. With the right strike, he could

send me flying all the way back to the cabin at the island’s center. Stalling

and dodging, therefore, would make the most effective combination until
Estella could fire.

“Get ahold of yourself, lad!” Slugger yelled, and for a moment, I saw

him as I had for the last few months, memories tugging at my mind. But

then I remembered what he had said to Lucio, how he had been complicit in

keeping me unaware. In a rush of boiling blood, my anger returned,

flooding strength into my limbs as I darted forwards, striking him in the jaw

with my knuckles.
The blow was sound, connecting directly with bone as his face snapped

to the side. He stepped back deftly before I could follow up with a second

shot, shaking off the hit, raising his fingers to his mouth, where they came
back bloody. Then he laughed, cracking his neck to the side and adjusting

back into a fighting stance.

“Not bad, eh, not bad. But this ain’t my first fight. You won’t take me

down with one shot. You’re gonna need a lot more than that.” He spit to the

side, red staining the rock. “You’re going to regret that one. I’ve already

kicked off my shoes, and I’m ready to dance.”

He lunged forwards, his left fist in a jab towards my nose, far more

agile than I had been. From my days under Instructor Cane at the

rehabilitation facility, I remembered how Slugger had always been his

favorite student. How he seemed to move with a grace with hand-to-hand

combat that few others possessed, his body more nimble, more fluid. As if

his Momentive power gave him a deeper understanding of movement, and

the shifting of weight, and the proper timing of a strike.

I dodged the jab, moving my head down and to the side as I tucked my

cheek into my collarbone, the corner of his glove stinging as it clipped the

very tip of my ear. Then I saw the uppercut that he had prepared as a
follow-up strike, the knuckles already halfway to my chin and gaining

speed. A strike that, even without his specialized glove with the “S-L-U-G”

lettering all too visible up close, would easily knock me unconscious.

In a panic, I reacted, yanking down upon reality with my power as

Anton had taught me, though far harder than before in the stress of the
moment. The colors of the world around me darkened slightly, the sounds

taking on a far lower quality. Time slowed, as if Slugger were fighting

through a thick fluid as I pulled backwards, just out of reach of his fist. The
glove whiffed past me when I released my hold on reality with a gasp, the

effort of distorting that much space even for a quarter of a second heavily

taxing my already near depleted reserves, and Slugger stumbled past me,

shouting in surprise as my chin moved out of his way faster than should

have been possible. He’d overcommitted to the blow, and I kicked as his

legs as he passed, striking his thigh with my shin that send him tumbling

over in a heap. He rolled across his shoulder blades, coming back up on his

feet, just as a voice behind me shouted.

“Ready!”

I dove out of the way as Slugger turned, and Estella released the full

force of the blue plasma she had built up in the moments since our fight

began. My dark orb had forced Arial to circle around to the back of her,

leaving her with a short window to aim, and as I moved Estella released the

buildup. A blast of blue light streaked forwards, almost liquid, dazzling

sparks rushing along its edges. Where the torrent met rock, it splashed over

it, instantly vaporizing any water that had splashed onto it from the lake.

Stains from dirt disintegrated away, the plasma eradicating any impurities,
and the shred of Arial’s shirt corner that had fallen during our fight

shriveled in a cloud of dark smoke and hungry flames.

Anticipating the attack, Slugger leapt backwards over the cliff,

preferring to take his chances tumbling down the mountain than facing the

plasma deluge.

“Oh no you don’t,” I growled as he was in midair, clutching my side. I

reached out, locating the portal door with my powers, ripping it towards the

space. Typically, moving the door would be easy, but now it was like trying

to do one push-up after finishing a set of fifty. My powers strained against

me as I swiped it towards him, catching him midway through his jump. At

the last second, I altered the gravity around him, so the temperature

differential would not burn him away as he landed in the subway.

I’d find him later and question him. I needed to sort through my mind,

and he would have many of the remaining answers.

Then the door overcame him, and Slugger disappeared from existence,

winking away before the blue light had a chance to fade from the blue

rocks. And now, only one of the enemy remained.

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Chapter 70 SC
Arial’s greatest strength was her speed and maneuverability. Now, faced

with the portal that chased her on one side, the dark orb that sought after her
on another, and the blue light that had started slowly building in Estella’s

hands, her ducking and weaving barely kept her alive. I moved patiently,
waiting for the right moment to spring the portal trap on her, knowing that a

single mistake was all that I needed, and that would be inevitable.

“SC, you don’t know what you’re doing,” she pleaded, and her eyes
searched behind me, towards the destroyed cabin. I spun the dark orb

towards her to cut her off from flying in that direction, then pulled it back
before she had a chance to absorb it. I still had the energy to move it

around, but creating another one was now beyond me. I’d have to be careful
not to lose it.

“I think he knows just fine,” said Estella. “He’s come to his senses. He’s
one of us, you know? From the stars. And it’s about time he came home.”

“You stay out of this,” Arial hissed. “You don’t know anything about his

home or his family. SC, don’t you want to go back and see your mother?”

My heart tightened as she asked the question. Of course, she wouldn’t

know that I had figured out my mother was dead. Now she was trying to

use that against me, to appeal to my emotions in order to save herself.

 “I know that she’s dead,” I answered. “I’ve figured everything out.

Which one of you killed her? Which one of you decided that using me for

my powers was more valuable than her life?”

“Dead? She’s not dead!” Arial said, desperately clinging to the lie.

“Listen to yourself, SC. You’re not making any sense!”

“That’s exactly the problem! I don’t know which way is up anymore,

because you meddled with me!”

Her face contorted, and her eyebrows shot up as my dark orb nearly

collided with her right arm, and she slid just far enough away for it to miss.

Then the portal appeared from her left, and she dove, swooping down to
glide across the surface of the water. I spent the last bits of my energy

focused on keeping her preoccupied, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

For just behind her, beyond the ridge of the mountain, a yellow stalk of

light had started to grow upwards towards the sky.

Estella cut Arial off with a smaller blast of blue light as she tried to edge

in towards me, and I backed the portal into her as she flitted towards the

cliff edge where Estella stood, blocking her attack. Then the yellow stalk
matured, red flames erupting at the tips, and balls of flaming metal

cascading down from the sky.

The first hit the water with a sizzle, and Arial turned upwards in

surprise, freezing as a dozen more rocketed down towards her from above.
Below, the water blocked her exit. And between the remainder of Estella’s

blast, my dark orb, and the portal, she was triangulated on the horizontal

plane.

She rose her hands up towards the flames, moving towards them, trying

to diffuse them as they fell towards her. But like me, she too was nearly

expended, and when she met the first comet, it collided with her palms. Her
jaw set, and the flame went out, releasing the metal to allow it to fall

harmlessly past her. When she quenched it, her flight had dipped several

feet, nearly wobbling out of control. Then the second flaming ball fell upon

her, and she started to neutralize it, the flames dying at her fingertips as she

shook with effort. A snap sounded as her body arched, throwing her

shoulders back, her flight completely giving out on her. She splashed down

into the lake, smacking into the water, the liquid putting out any of the

flames that had moved to the flaps of fabric she wore under her arms to help

her flight.

A moment later, she surfaced, spluttering, her hair stuck to the side of
her head. She started to leap upwards in flight once more, but only the

upper half of her torso cleared the water before she sank back down, her

power exhausted. She turned up towards me, barely staying afloat in the

water as balls of flaming metal fell about her, sections of the lake boiling as

they struck the surface.

 “Don’t do this,” she begged. “SC, we’re your friends. Whatever they’ve

done to you, whatever they’ve convinced you, it’s all lies. We never should

have come here.”

“Truth be told, I haven’t said a word to him until you arrived. Sounds

like he’s made his own decision,” Estella said from atop her perch. Arial

coughed as she took in a gulp of water and started to swim towards the

edge.

“I never want to see you again,” I said, and the hurt showing in her eyes

only enraged me more. How could she be acting even now, at the end,

caught completely in her schemes? Had she no heart at all? Why cling so

desperately to a lie instead of fleeing earlier?

In that moment, I felt tears forming in my eyes as I remembered what

we had shared. Or thought we had shared, all while she had detested every

moment of it. My heart clenched, my stomach sinking, but my feelings still

reared up for her, despite everything she had done to me. Even if my mind

knew it was imaginary, my heart had not yet accepted that fact.

“SC—” she started, but I dropped the portal on top of her, like a fishing

net pulling a fresh catch from the water. Even with all my rage, I still

altered the gravity around her, making sure she survived. Though false, the

pleasant memories of her were still rooted deep in my mind.

And I couldn’t bring myself to deliver a killing blow.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 71 SC
As Estella and I stood there, the ripples on the lake quieted. Any

remaining blue glow faded away, while the fires from the falling metallic
comets slowly went out, the red-hot balls at their center cooling to grey. I

released the dark orb I still held by sending it upwards, its pop the final
disturbance, with only the trickle of water over the edge of the mountain

rim filling the silence afterward. I’d created that trickle when one of my

stray dark orbs had carved through the side of the mountain, letting the
upper layer of the lake escape in a small waterfall. It slowly pulled other

debris from the fight with it to collect at the edge—pieces of the cabin, a
few strands of brown hair cut away from Arial by my attacks, ashes from

the falling fire.

Then I spoke, my voice heavy, as Estella looked on. Both of us slumped

at the shoulders, exhausted, and neither looking for another battle.

“Thank you. I think—I think there’s been a misunderstanding between

me and your leaders. A lot of what I’ve believed over the last few months

has not turned out to be true. I’ve been tricked and ashamed to have fallen

for it.”
“If Blake was your main experience with us, I can’t say I’m surprised.

He doesn’t set the best of first impressions,” she said, climbing down from

the rock. I extended a hand, and she took it, offering a fatigued smile.
 “I’m Estella. And you are?”

“Call me SC,” I said. “And you said we come from the same place. Up

there?” I nodded in general towards the sky, where the stalk of yellow star

stuff no longer stood.

“Up there,” she confirmed. “Both Troy and me. Speaking of which, I
haven’t actually seen him. We should start a search—based on the stalk, we

know the general direction.”

Then she cast a suspicious eye at me, her voice carrying a note of

warning.

“I’m only trusting you because you helped me in that battle back there.
But turning against your own friends doesn’t necessarily mean you’re with

us, now. There’s still more you’ll have to prove. For all we know, you’re

just crazy at this point. Our leaders will be skeptical, at best. You’ll be

brought back in chains.”

She paused, then closed her eyes and turned around, continuing to

speak.

“If you want to leave, go. I owe you that much after your aid, and I’ll
give you thirty seconds to disappear. Or if you wish to attack me, do it now.

I’ve seen you fight, and I know what you can do. There’s no point in me

fighting back when I know who would win.”

But when she turned around, I still stood there, waiting.

 “Then you’ve made your choice,” she said, and started to pick her way

to the other side of the mountain. “Your friend, by the way—I have it sorted

out now, but he tricked me too. He didn’t seem so bad, though. Made me

believe that I knew him.”

“I know the feeling,” I answered bitterly as we reached the slope and

started downwards. After only two minutes, we found Troy, his wrists and
ankles bound. He wriggled as we approached, yellow light starting to sprout

from between his hands, and I realized he must have attacked the top of the

mountain only halfway up, while tied.

“Relax, Troy, he’s turned himself in,” said Estella. “And if he wanted to

destroy us both now, would have little trouble.”

She bent down, prying apart the knots, which under closer inspection,

turned out to be shoelaces and a belt. The striped shoes, belonging to

Slugger, were only a few feet away, and explained why he had shown up to

the fight without them.

“We won, then?” Troy asked, rubbing his wrists. “What all happened?”
“We won,” she confirmed, and turned to me. “But the Titan—what

actually happened to him?”

I didn’t relish the memory of Jeannie. But he was a danger and knew he

was the reason we had come to the island. There was a chance that he

would have joined Lucio and the others—and that was something I could
not allow to happen. He’d been on the verge of turning into the storm, so I

did what had to be done.

“He was about to go rogue. So I put a dark orb right through his heart,”
I said, grimacing and pushing the memory away. “Exploded into a thousand

shards of ice, then. Part of me wonders if he expected it or even wanted it. I

don’t think he would just let me do it.”

“From what I understand, the Titans aren’t always sane,” said Estella,

and put a hand on my shoulder as Troy rose. “You likely did him a favor.

Showed him mercy.”

I swallowed and nodded as she then turned to Troy.

“And what happened to Blake?”

“That Flier lifted him out and over the sea! Dropped him off way out in

that direction. She gives me the creeps; didn’t even return with a cut!

Something’s not right with her, the way she uses powers.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Something’s definitely not right.”

“Then we should search for Blake,” said Estella. “With the Titan gone

and the enemy dispatched, our mission here is pointless. We still have a full

night before the pickup is scheduled, so there’s little else to do. I would

think we’d have heard from him by now, if he lived—but we might be able

to recover a body.”
 We picked our way across the volcanic rock, reaching the cliffs, then

following a narrow trail that wound down the face.

“Before we came here, we did our research,” said Estella as we walked

in single file. “This is likely a goat trail. Apparently, the island used to be

teeming with them. That and vegetation was everywhere, along with a

variety of wildlife. But now, it’s all dead. Dead and dry.”

“As if it hasn’t rained in years,” I said, and remembered the case of

storms Jeannie had shown me before I had killed him. Catching any rain

that approached the island before it could fall, and packaging it away for his

collection.
We reached the bottom of the cliffs with a beach that wound in a curve

about the island. Crabs fled our footsteps, and seashells crunched underfoot

as we walked. But there was nothing to be seen, aside from a boulder in the

surf about a quarter mile away. A boulder that, as we approached, glittered

in the sunlight.

When we were upon it, I waded out into the knee-deep water where it

had breached. The stone had split in two and was slowly diminishing in size

as I approached, as if sublimating into the air. Not a boulder, but a shell—a

cocoon, crystal grown around a curled-up body, that would have trapped an

air bubble before it split. Enough to bob to the surface and carry its

inhabitant to shore until the oxygen ran out.

 With Estella and Troy’s help, I pulled the shell to shore, where it

withered away in the sunlight. And though his eyes were closed, and his lips

still blue from lack of air, there was no doubt that Blake’s chest still rose

and fell as shallow breaths passed in and out of him.

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Chapter 72 Ennia
For Ennia, watching the portal window from within the subway had

meant hours of inactivity, spiked with brief moments of excitement. When

SC was launched in the trebuchet, the picture seemed static, barely

changing except for a few vibrations as he held the portal in place. She
could see the skin on his face being pulled back by the acceleration, as well

as his panicked last-minute departure. Something had gone wrong, she

knew, causing him to launch prematurely. Then the portal had been dragged
outside the boulder opening with him, and he’d left it high above, facing

outwards in an arbitrary direction.

There, she could nearly see the trebuchet that they had been launched

from, if the portal had been turned fifteen degrees to the left. And out of the
very corner, she’d seen SC land on the mountain’s edge, nearly continuing

his flight to the slopes beyond.

“We have to signal him so that he knows that we’re up here!” she’d said

to Anton. “Quick, while he’s looking this way!”

She searched around for something to throw, but Anton beat her to it,

taking off his shoe and dropping it through the doorway. When ice crusted
over the surface, it confirmed her fear—that they would no longer be able

to join the others on the island. Instead, she became a sentry, watching SC

swim into the cabin. Moments later, the lake was besieged by a storm so
strong that she took a cautious step back from the portal door. Then Lucio

had come, and they’d caught his attention, signaling for him to join SC in

the cabin. Anton dropped his calculator to him to remind SC to use his new

powers.

Soon after that, chaos filled the island.

Lucio came running out of the cabin, diving into the water and

swimming for his life towards the rim of the mountain. He’d managed to

reach it, pulling himself out, shaking off, then starting down the path

towards the others, when the cabin started to self destruct. Pieces of timber

flew outwards as it collapsed, its support beams cut, bowling-ball-sized

holes punctured through its walls. And as it fell, only SC stepped out, his

black orbs circling around him like angry insects.

Then the true fight started, and SC had turned against them. Ennia

watched, hands over her mouth as he launched orbs at Arial. Then the portal

shifted, the image rapidly moving, as it came down upon Lucio and he was

ejected from the island into the subway, crashing into her from where she

stood in front of the doorway.

Smoke poured off him from the gravitational differential, his body

taking on more heat than it should, his clothes flaming and golden hair

immediately singeing to a brown, the tips of it black. He cried out as his

shoulder clipped her, and continued past her, flying sideways until he
connected with the floor. His head hit first, the sound of bone on cement

resonating through the subway.

“Water!” she commanded the stunned Anton next to her. He shook his

head, waking up from his stunned trance, then leapt away down the tunnel.

Then she crouched over Lucio, surveying his reddened skin, moving her

hands up and down the vertebrae on his back where he lay face down. She
was no healer, but she knew bone—and she offered up a quick prayer of

thanks as she found each intact. Then she sucked in a quick gasp of air as

she felt the crack in his skull.

Anton arrived back with three bottles of water and she urgently

unscrewed them, pouring them over Lucio to cool him off and eliminate

any burning embers still in his clothes. He groaned, and now that she was

sure his back was not broken, she carefully flipped him over to be face up.

His eyes were closed, his lips starting to blister, a massive bruise already

forming on one cheek.

“We have to get him to a hospital!” exclaimed Anton, and Ennia

flushed.

“How? Are we bringing an ambulance down here? We’re going to have

to carry him between the two of us, and I’m scared to move him too much

with his head in that condition.”

 She paused, anxiety rushing through her as she remembered some of her

failed experiments when creating her winged tigers. Life was fickle, and

meddling with it took great care. To change anything, even of the simplest
things, came with great risk.

But this was a risk she had to take.

“Hold him still,” she commanded to Anton, then placed a palm on the

back of Lucio’s head. With her power, she felt through the essences there—

the tissues and cells making him up, the beating blood, the brain matter

underneath.

“Trust me, Lucio. To make changes, you have to trust me,” she

whispered, but knew that he could not hear her. Any instinctual resistance

from him would be catastrophic—she’d need to move quick, while he was

too disoriented to react. So she reached into him with her power, finding the

crack in his skull, surrounded by fluid and blood. And carefully, she started

coaxing the blood that was in the crack. Convincing it that it would rather

be bone than liquid.

Converting life to life was far easier than blending something inorganic

to organic, and the blood eagerly responded to her call, its structure

changing. Taking on the calcium of its neighbors, patching the gap, like

mortar between bricks. She pulled back, letting everything settle, checking
over him once more. It was enough to keep him together. But not so much

that he would be moving around anytime soon.

As she worked, she turned to see Anton still staring through the portal,

his mouth slightly open. Instinctually, he started to take on the green sheen

of his defensive power, and he spoke to her, his voice almost panicked.

“SC; he’s gone wild! Maniacal!” He brought his fingernail up to his

mouth and started to gnaw on it, forgetting its green sheath protected it from

his own teeth. “And I helped him improve his powers! Oh God, I helped

him get stronger!”

“Anton, over here! I need you here,” Ennia said, doing one last check
over Lucio to make sure she had not missed anything broken. “Whatever is

going on out there, we can’t do anything to help it. It’s beyond us. We need

to focus here, on Lucio. That we can help. I’ve got his legs—can you do his

arms?”

“Of course, of course, of course.” Anton said, and despite his larger

size, he struggled to lift Lucio up by his armpits. Ennia noted his skinny

arms, the lack of any muscular tone on them. Perhaps she could blend more

mass into them, if she had time. Or devise a stretcher that would move

Lucio to the surface of its own accord.

But she didn’t know enough about Lucio’s injury to judge time left. So

they hefted him upwards with a grunt, starting to move down the subway,
when the image in the portal started to move again.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 73 Ennia
Slugger leapt through the portal, his scrabbling into a bear crawl as he

touched down, his gloves grating against the floor as he growled in rage. He
skidded to a stop, setting his eyes on the doorway, then started sprinting

back towards it as Ennia shouted.

“Don’t! You got lucky that first time; jump through again and you’ll end

up looking like this!”

Slugger hesitated, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness as he turned to

them, spotting Lucio’s limp frame hanging between their struggling grips.

“We need you here!” Ennia continued. “Someone has to carry him with
us, and you can make him light. He needs help!”

Slugger let loose a stream of curses, with at least two varieties that
Ennia had never heard before, then flicked off the portal with both hands. In

a moment, he was at Ennia’s side, and instantly, Lucio’s weight started to

decrease, until it seemed as if he were nothing but a lightly stuffed pillow.

“Damn idiot,” Slugger said, looking back towards the portal.

“Something’s got ahold of him, doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Later, we’ll fix him. But we can’t now—unless our physics friend has
any tips for us to get through that portal?”

Anton grimaced, then shook his head. “None that I can think of. That’s a

one-way street. Irreversible.”

 “SC must have let you through gentler than Lucio,” said Ennia,

comparing the untouched Slugger with Lucio’s still form. “Shows he’s not

completely mad.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t bet on that one,” said Slugger, and rubbed his knuckles.

He’d been so close to knocking SC out, then carting him back to safety. But
then SC had moved fast—impossibly fast.

Slugger nudged Ennia over, taking Lucio away from her, and directed

Anton towards the exit.

“Stay here,” Slugger said to her. “One of us needs to. Let us know what

else happens, will you? And if you can do anything to help, do it. SC is
going to get himself killed.”

Ennia’s mouth twitched downward in a frown, then she moved to take

up her station by the portal once more. She didn’t trust Anton to take Lucio

to the hospital, and Slugger would have to keep contact with Lucio.

Together, he and Anton disappeared, moving at a quick pace through the

tunnels, stopping only to pick up a flashlight to uncover their way, weaving

and turning their way to the surface. Lucio groaned twice on their path, and
Slugger adjusted, doing his best not to rock him around too much.

Then they broke into sunlight, and out onto the largely deserted street.

“Now what?” Anton asked. “Do we call for help?”

 “No,” said Slugger, thinking. They couldn’t have too many questions,

too many inquiries about where their parents were, where they lived, or

why they weren’t showing their papers for being Specials. “Stay here. I’ll

be right back. Don’t let him go anywhere if he wakes, and don’t you let

anyone else do anything to him. This street can get a right bit seedy.”

“But you’re just leaving? What are you—”

“Anton, lad, I know what we’re doing. Now stand guard. Go green,”

ordered Slugger, and the older boy flinched, then stood over Lucio. He took

one of his hands in each of his own, then green light flowed over him, his

power rooting him to the spot and ensuring Lucio would not be moving.

Then Slugger turned to sprint, his mind still reeling at the sudden

change from island to city, his lungs burning from the fight that had only

been a minute before without any recovery. But his destination was close.

He stopped outside a bakery, one that Lucio had learned never locked

their back door, and they’d taken to using their phone during the night. He

cut the short line at the counter, placing both of his hands on the glass, and
shouted at the teenage girl working the counter.

“I need to use your phone, now!”

She blinked, still halfway through a transaction, and he softened his

voice, walking around the counter. “Please. It’s a medical emergency.”

 She stirred, then led him over to it, her other coworkers whispering as

they took her place at the register. Slugger dialed a number that SC had

made them all commit to memory, as a last resort. The line buzzed twice,
then a voice on the other end answered.

“Officer Roland speaking.”

“Roland,” blurted Slugger, then forced himself to calm. “Roland, we

need your help. Lucio’s been hurt, bad. We need an ambulance, but you

know our situation..”

The man at the other end paused, digesting the information. Then his

voice came back calm, from many years of dealing with emergencies.

“Where is your location?” he asked, and Slugger told him, directing him

back to where Lucio and Anton waited.

“Hold on, then. We’ll be there soon. And, Slugger, you’ll owe me an

explanation for this.”

“Of course,” said Slugger, then slammed the phone down, leapt over the

counter, and dashed from the shop. By the time he arrived back, he could

just barely hear sirens approaching in the distance. Anton released his

power and shifted, his shadow moving from Lucio’s face. Lucio’s eyes

flickered open for a moment, confused and unfocused, until they found

Slugger. He started to speak, though Slugger quieted him, but was

persistent.
 “I, I didn’t expect him to wake so quickly,” Lucio said, his eyes starting

to lose focus again. “It is not what you think.”

Then his eyelids drifted back downwards, the ambulance turned a

corner to spot them, and Slugger shivered despite the warm sunlight.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 74 Arial
When Arial shot through the portal, it was in a deluge of water that

rushed into the subway, carrying her on her back in a sloshing wave. She
stilled at the center of Peregrine’s machine, surrounded by the doorways,

staring up towards the ceiling. Tears came not long after, falling into the
puddle where she lay as a hand appeared above to help her up, and the

portal turned dark.

“What have they done to him?” Arial said, standing and brushing
herself off. She was soaked and shivering the sudden coolness of the

subway. “I knew we should have called it quits. That nothing good would
happen after Rome. It was only a matter of time before something happened

to one of us.”
“Two of us,” said Ennia at her side. “They’re taking Lucio to the

hospital now, but I think he’s going to be all right. Arial, we need to talk
about the full story of what happened. That’s the only way that we can hope

to discover how to fix all this.”

Arial relayed her version as Ennia listened. Then as she finished, Ennia

gave her a stern look, speaking gently but firmly.

“Arial, I asked for the full version,” Ennia said pointedly, and gestured

at Arial’s hands. Arial swallowed, knowing she had left out the pieces

where she had used the Litious’ powers. Ennia must have taken note at
some point, maybe seeing her attack Estella through the portal, and Arial

told her. The entire story, all the way back to Rome, when she had learned

to pick up the neutralization power.

“Can you still fly?” Ennia asked when Arial had finished. Arial’s eyes

widened at the possibility, and she tried to leap into the air, but came down
a moment later on her heels. She squeaked involuntarily and jumped again,

then again, but each time, gravity reached up to grasp her. Then she

focused, driving her will, and managed to drift down marginally slower,

like a falling leaf, but nowhere near her normal soaring.

“What’s wrong with me?” she cried, her hands running over her sides,
as if she could find weights concealed there. She had thought she was only

tired, like trying to run after working out her legs, but this was different. By

now, she should have recovered. And even in her most tired state, she

should be able to at least hover.

“I should have noticed earlier,” Ennia said with a frown. “But what

you’ve been doing, this trick from the Litious—it’s not safe. Not remotely.

There’s a reason why it was lost long ago, and there’s a reason why only the
Litious have had any success with practicing it, if you could even call that

success. Come with me. I have something to show you and there’s no

reason to hide it any longer. But we were afraid that, if SC heard of this

power, it might be used.”

 Ennia gestured towards the portal, which had turned to static, hiding the

island and cutting them completely off. It felt like a door slammed in Arial’s

face, and she swallowed, biting back tears once more. This all felt so wrong.

Ennia led her to her room, then carefully pulled back her bed and

opened a concrete door, revealing the tunnel underneath.

“I built this so I could speak with Taylor, my professor,” she said. “And
also, because we were inclined to keep an eye upon your group, in case

anything like this were to happen. Had you not met the Litious, nor had one

of you experienced Fractonis Essentia, we would have deemed it

unnecessary. But when both of those occurred, the coincidence seemed too

great.

“Arial, powers are what tie us to the natural world. Humans love to

pretend they’re so much greater than animals, so much more than what

exists in our environment, but in truth, our surroundings color us. They

change our very essences. And when that essence is meddled with,

especially by someone who is not a skilled Blender, the results can be

disastrous.

“What the Litious are doing is ripping their essence open to the outside

world, letting it escape their bodies. They’ve discovered this as a defense

mechanism to pain, that the body naturally tries to flee in any way possible.

It opens them up, allowing them to tap directly into the world with their
essence. Which is why they can nullify powers or suppress them—because

they are extending their will, their being, over those that are using it.”

“Why is that so dangerous?” asked Arial. “Plenty of the Litious were

doing it, and I didn’t see any issues.”

“Yet,” said Ennia, holding up a finger. “You see, the deeper the

connection with that world, the more we lose humanity. The Litious elders

were known to descend into insanity—they would have hallucinations or be

overstimulated in any areas where their surroundings were particularly

potent with powers. They’ve eliminated the barriers between them and their

surroundings, barriers meant to keep them separate. But since they only

have to worry about one connection to the outside world, they can control it

for some time. They open and shut it, like a valve, though it almost always

wears out. But you, you have a power. It makes you different. It makes this

more dangerous.”

“How?” Arial asked, and breathed a slight sigh of relief when she

noticed Ennia had used the present tense for her power. Have, not had.

“Because you’re already connected to the outside world, your essence

has already been colored by it. You now have to balance, not simply to shut

on or off. When Darian went through Fractonis Essentia, he broke barriers

with his essence, enlarging his connection to his Mimic abilities. I suspect
one of the only reasons that was possible was because he was surrounded
by a Mimic dense area, though I cannot be certain. You saw how much

damage that did to him, though ultimately, he is now stronger, after

recovery, because his power had room to expand. You are trying to shove

two different things into the same box, and your essence will split if you do

not stop. People with two powers do not live long, Arial, and this is far

worse.”

“Then can it be fixed?” Arial asked, and subconsciously tested her

hovering ability once more, failing to lift off the ground. “Will I be able to

fly again?”

“I suspect you will. This schism within you will only be temporary – as
a Blender, I can give you some exercises to help you recover your essence.

But if you keep using your powers like this, I don’t know what will happen.

Which brings us to a more important point, the true reason I am here.

“As I said, when Darian underwent Fractonis Essentia, he became

stronger. Look at Lacit as well, who we know had Fractonis Essentia in his

youth, and was one of the strongest Telekinetics recorded. The point is, this

breaking of the essence could potentially be manipulated. Controlled. And

if it is, as some legends tell of it in the past, then I fear for the fate of our

world.

“A Titan is simply a Special who has a larger connection to the natural

world than normal. Think of Fractonis Essentia like a crack in the barrier
keeping your essence separate from your surroundings—a Titan is someone

that is not cracked, but shattered. We are afraid under the proper conditions,

someone could figure out how to create Titans at will. En masse.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 75 SC
The helicopter took off from a patch of flat stone at the edge of the

mountain, the pilot accompanied by two Specials who hopped off to help us
board. Estella had already tied my hands behind my back, but with my

powers, we all knew that such measures were merely symbolic. The true
sign of confinement was when the guards escorted me onto the helicopter,

the blades still lazily spinning, and ushered me down into a seat. Then they

raised their hands, and a shimmering purple forcefield sprang to life in a

bubble around me, nearly an inch thick.

With my powers, I doubted that the combined efforts of them both could
hold me. But I never resisted, allowing them to search and maneuver me,

and ignoring their smirks as they watched me within the bubble. These were
the same guards from the academy, the ones that had raised the bubble to

keep the students in. Surely, they would have remembered my revolt, even
if they had not realized that my power was the one to bring down their

walls.

The night before, Estella had brought me to their camp—three tents

near the mountaintop, grey to be camouflaged among the rock, each stacked
with provisions and gear. Estella ripped open several of the food packs, no

longer concerned with rationing, providing me with the heartiest meal I’d

had in days. Without a pickup, they could have survived out here several
more weeks, living off of prepared meal packages, the food tasteless but

substantial and warm.

She tended to Blake, warming some soup for him over a small cook

stove and carefully feeding it to him in the dying light. We had carried him

up the mountain when his diamond shell fully melted away, Troy and I
sharing the load between us. Towards the top, he had started to stir – but

now, he tossed in a restless sleep, only opening his eyes for a few moments

at a time, with a few murmurs, sweating through his clothes that were now

crusted with sea salt. As darkness fell, soft lights played across his body—

not the reflected lights of diamond, but rather as if he were the source,
shimmering in multiple colors that misted away from him, accompanied

with a slight buzzing.

Now, on the helicopter, one of the guards broke a stick of smelling salts

under Blake’s nose, rousing him back to attention. His eyes were still

slightly unfocused, but consciousness no longer evaded him, and he studied

the bubble around me, as if searching for gaps that he could exploit. When

one of the guards looked away for a moment, he extended his finger slyly to
the side, the shimmer of diamond apparent on it to test the barrier. But when

it touched the forcefield, purple sparks flew, shocking his finger back. For a

moment, the diamond flickered, and I saw that it was thinner than normal,

and patchy – like jeans with holes worn into them instead of armor. Blake’s
face showed surprise as he jerked his hand away, raising it up to his face.

For a moment, the diamond spread—but then it retreated again, dying away,

and Estella chastised him.

“You’ve overextended yourself, you need to rest. Stop trying to test

your power.”

She sat between the two guards who faced me, and under their
command, blue light shimmered about her fingertips, already powered up

and ready to blast. If the shield came down, she was to fire, eliminating me

before I would have a chance to attack. Sitting next to me, Blake would also

be burned away if he could not turn to diamond—but I let that fact go

unnoticed, taking solace in the idea that if they took me down, he would

accompany.

“Wonder what your masters are going to say when you come back from

this one empty-handed, Blake,” I said out of the side of my mouth and saw

him bristle. “Had a Titan on the mountain, and just let him slip right

through your fingers.”

“You shut up,” he hissed back as only his fingernails turned diamond,

the most he could manage in his current state. “When we get back, they’ll

let me flay you limb from limb.”

“Even if they killed me, they probably wouldn’t let you do it. Wouldn’t

want another botch job, would they? Are you hoping they forgot about how
you screwed up in Rome? Couldn’t even handle that one, against a group of

Regulars.”

Blake’s jawline tightened, and the veins in his neck started throbbing.
But he was still weak, and the chopper was loud enough that Estella and the

guards couldn’t hear my whispering. Through the bubble, Blake himself

could likely barely hear it as I continued.

“Do you think they talk to Siri in her jail cell? What do you think that

news is like? Oh, we found another way to control Titans. Wait, remember

that Blake kid you recruited? Totally failed that one. No worries, we found

another Titan. Damn, who let that Blake imbecile by that mission too?”

Blake swore, ripping off his harness seatbelt, and launched himself at

me, landing over the bubble and trying to scratch his way through. I sat still,

a small smile playing across my lips as Blake swiped twice, the purple

sparks erupting as the guards behind him shouted, his muscles spasming

with each shock. So infuriated, he hardly noticed until Troy pulled him off

the shield, shoving him back into his seat. In his condition, Blake could

hardly resist beyond his enraged shrieking, starting at his hands, which no

longer obeyed his power, and only left shallow cuts on Troy.

“Just you watch, SC!” he shouted, twisting and turning as one of the

guards buckled him back in, then cuffed his hands and ankles together.
Blake flailed, managing to unbuckle himself once more, and the forcefield
above me shimmered as one of the guards took their attention away from it.

Now it was only a half inch thick, as another bubble sprang to life around

Blake, holding him as much prisoner as me. More, actually, due to the

number of restraints they had placed upon him, compared to my simply

bound wrists.

I closed my eyes and leaned back as he screamed through the bubble,

letting calmness overtake me. And I focused upon thinking about nothing as

we flew. Knowing that if I started examining my own memories, I’d likely

end up in a similar state as Blake. That I couldn’t let betrayal and hurt

consume me. That I had to look towards the future, towards what I could do
to set things right.

And relishing the thought that when we landed, Blake would look far

more dangerous than I to his leaders. Already, I had sewn the seeds of

disappointment for his return. For if I was to join his team, it would never

be under his command.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 76 SC
The instructors did not bring a Truther or Mind Reader to interrogate

me. Rather, they brought a Truther and a Mind Reader.

“It’s always so difficult to find good staff,” said Lionel, watching

me from a large leather chair behind an enormous desk, with neat stacks of
paper in one corner and a collection of model space ships in the other. He

adjusted one of them, a small rocket that was just off center between a

hand-sized space shuttle and station, before turning his attention back to
me. “The dedicated ones? Usually relatively weak; that’s why they try

harder. The powerful? They think they can relax all the time, without a care,
and still succeed. The passionate are usually insane, and those without

proper motivation have to be… well, convinced. And that never brings the
same strength as someone naturally loyal to the cause. Do you understand?”

“You want someone who is effective without coercion,” I finished

for him.

“Precisely!” he responded, and sipped from his glass of water, his

glassy eyes closing for a moment. It was the fizzy type, the slight crackle of

bubbles filling the room whenever the conversation lulled. I left mine to
stand on a small side table next to my chair, for two reasons. The first, that

the bit of carbonation felt more like the water was trying to digest me than
me it. And second, that reaching for it would rattle the numerous chains

connected to my body.

Their logic, I supposed, was sound. There were twelve chains in all,

two for each arm and leg, two around my neck, and two more around my

torso. With a black orb, disentangling myself would take at least a minute—
each of the chains wrapped close to my skin and pulled tight to the chair,

meaning I would have to cut slowly to avoid digging into my own flesh. By

the time I was free, one of the guards from outside could step in between us

—and if I tried to generate a dark orb, Lionel had his sausage-like index

finger resting atop a flashing red button that would deliver a taser-like
shock to my chair. Running his cuticle around the button’s edge, he

continued to speak.

“But that is why I’m willing to hear you out. If you have already

created so much trouble for us, then surely you could do so in the other

direction. Assuming, again, that you have had a change of heart. Then

there’s the matter that I created you, after I took control of that aspect of the

space program. Poetic, in a sense, that after all these years, you have
returned. The prodigal son, if you will. My own version of Halley’s comet.”

“Would have been easier if you had never lost me. And if you had

worked on your recruitment tactics.”

 “Ah, but neither of those were up to me! Now, before we begin, I

want you to know what I intend to do with you—you’ll start working for us

on missions, just as Blake, Estella, and Troy have. Prove yourself, and you

could become a leader. Estella and Troy have been… too sheltered to

effectively take command. And Blake, well, he’s on the other end of that

spectrum. Is that agreeable to you?”

“If that’s how I can be useful to you, then I accept,” I said.

“Says any man in chains,” Lionel said, then shouted through the

door, “Send her in!”

As someone entered behind me, my thoughts turned back to the

Instructors’ goals. With such a noble mission, I couldn’t understand why I

had not joined them before. “We want peace and equality for all. With the

powers of Titans, we can feed the world, stop all crime, eliminate poverty,”

Lacit had said to me in my memory. “What I said about completely wiping

out Regulars was a test. You passed. We wanted to make sure you had a

heart, and you have proven yourself. We’ve found a way to make them
powerful too, not kill them.”

Back then, I must have been too entrenched in my own thoughts to

have heeded him. Or maybe it was Lucio, the trickster, pulling the strings

and blinding me. Regardless, now was my second chance.

 Lionel motioned for the new guest to sit, and the woman who joined

me appeared to be in her early twenties, her hair combed to sweep down in

a jagged edge, and a tad too much shadow over her eyes. She leaned over to
me, smelling like a mixture of cinnamon and pinecones, and extended her

hands.

“Grasp my palms,” she commanded, her voice slightly musical,

soothing. “And don’t resist. This will only take a second.”

I reached out, taking her hands in mine, surprised by the coolness of

her touch.

“Ready?” she asked as my palms started to tingle, and I could feel

each of the creases in my skin start to itch. I nodded, then was falling

backwards, down a dark and deep tunnel, splashing into water at the end.

Except it wasn’t water—it was memories.

The events of the last few days unfolded rapidly—the betrayals, the

revelations, my understanding of my own faults. Then I felt her digging

deeper, tugging me along by both my hands, and we descended into my

days at the academy, and the Amazon, and Rome. Each with their signs of

warning from Lucio, that I should have caught long before. There was more

there, deeper—but those memories had a different quality to them. They

seemed thicker, harder to get to. Like layers of oil and water, they were
covered by the more recent ones, more emotional ones. We only brushed
past those, and instantly, an image of Lucio in the cabin at the island filled

my mind, as I lay there with his hands on my head, and he broadcasted

memories into me.

When had that happened? I thought with a start, my heart rate

picking up. There was more there, connections to that memory, strands that

I started to pull upon to find out more. But the Mind Reader was already

moving on, stumbling over the memory of Ariel and Lucio kissing, my

physical body shivering as she hesitated on the moment. Then my

consciousness rushed back to the surface, and when my eyes snapped open,

she had not yet hidden the look of disgust on her face. She turned to Lionel,
her voice no longer soothing, but now strict and cold. As I felt wetness on

my cheeks, disentangling myself from her to brush away fresh tears, the

jangling of chains preventing any subtlety.

“As a Mind Reader, I must give this disclaimer—to us, seeing a

mind is like flipping through a ten-thousand-page book, and reading

random paragraphs. To get the whole story, it would take weeks. Perhaps

months. But there are sections highlighted by emotions, and those are most

telling. Especially since he is still in trauma and shock.

“What they have done to him is nothing short of abhorrent. I’m

surprised he has not returned to hunt them down already. Absolutely tricked

him into helping their cause, abused him for his power, gaslighted him to
the extreme. His reality has come crashing down, and he has realized its

falsehood.”

“So can I trust him?” Lionel asked, leaning forwards, tilting his

head. “Or will he return back to them?”

“I can assure you, he certainly won’t be returning. From what I have

seen, he has no intention of moving against you, and his displayed emotions

are valid,” she said. “As to whether you can trust him, I suppose that time

will only tell there. He is unstable. I predict that if you win him over, he

may be more dedicated to you than any other. But trust, trust is something I

cannot verify off of the past. Trust involves actions of the future.”

“No need,” said Lionel, and smiled in confidence. “That’s why we

brought the Truther.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 77 SC
“They’ll take you if they find you, if you’re worth it,” the Truther

said, offering a cracked smile with a few missing teeth. “I said that to you,
Mikey did. True, oh so true!”

Mikey sat across from me, looking only slightly cleaned up from
when I had seen him last, when I found him homeless in the park near my

house. His face had thickened out, and holes no longer riddled his clothes,

but his hair and eyes were just as wild as he looked over me.
“Got you in chains, do they? Got us all in chains, don’t they? True,

true.” Mikey tapped his forehead with a finger, leaning forwards.

“They’ll come off easy enough.”

“False! False, false!” He put his hands on his knees, then jumped
backwards, never breaking his stare. “Why did you come back to see

Mikey?”
Behind him, Lionel blinked slowly, clearing his throat to catch the

Truther’s attention.

“Mikey, we’d like you to listen in on a conversation we’ll be having.

Just some questions. Can you do that?”

“Usually,” said Mikey, and Lionel gestured to one of the guards,

who brought forth a platter of cheese cubes to keep him occupied. He

popped a handful into his mouth, chewing as he snapped the toothpicks they

came on with his tongue, Lionel watching him.

“Alright, seems simple enough.”

“True,” Mikey said between mashed cubes and grabbed another

handful. “Are these going away like last time when you’re done? Did you
eat the rest?”

“I can assure you, I did not. And yes, you may keep them if you are

so inclined,” said Lionel, turning away with disgust. Mikey squinted at

Lionel, staring closely, before uttering a single word more unsure than most

his pronouncements. “True.”

“Now, on to business.” Lionel folded his hands together and stared

at me as I waited in my shackles. “Of your own free will, you decided to

come here, correct? You were not forced, coerced, or bribed in even the

vaguest definitions of the words?”

“Correct,” I said, as Mikey chimed, “True!”

“When discovering the danger of the Titan, you decided he was best

dead than allow him to potentially empower your past acquaintances? So

you killed him?”

“Yes. I removed his heart, so it would be over quick.”

“True!”
 “Efficient,” said Lionel with appreciation, then looked down at a

piece of paper on his desk, scanning it for more questions. “You have no ill

will towards us at all?”

“Right,” I said, and Mikey hesitated, chewing his cheese. Then he

swallowed in a gulp, and sang, “False!”

“Oh?” asked Lionel, his finger over the button that would shock me
in the chair. “Do explain.”

“Who do you mean by us,” I said. “Maybe you should rephrase that

to removing Blake and his buddies.”

“Fine. You have no ill will towards us, excluding Blake or anyone

subservient to him in the past?”

“That’s right.”

“True!”

“Hmm. That’s better. Not flying colors, but given the circumstances,

understandable. Next, you shall follow our orders to the letter, including

those which you may not enjoy?”

“If you wanted a slave, you should go source from your

rehabilitation facilities. I’m sure they won’t ask questions. No, I do not

agree to that.”

Lionel frowned, making a small mark next to the question. “But you

do agree to our cause?”

 “For a better world? Absolutely.”

“True! True!” said Mikey, and I continued to speak.

“Before I start taking your orders, I personally choose to undo some

of the harm I’ve caused. I’d like to dig myself out of that hole before

rebuilding.”

“Oh, would you? And what is that, precisely?”

“I’d like to start with freeing Siri. If she’s your way to control the

Titans, she has to be high on your list. With my powers and your resources,

it should be a good way to prove myself.”

Lionel leaned back, his chair creaking slightly.

“We shall have to think about that one. While Siri is important, the

effects of her power is certainly not our most pressing objective.”

“False!” said Mikey, and Lionel scowled.

“Neither are the Titans so volatile I fear that they might escape our

control by the morning.”

“False!” Mikey cried again, and Lionel snapped at him.

“If you don’t hold your tongue, I’ll cut it out!”

Mikey clamped his teeth shut, but a barely audible false escaped

from between his lips as Lionel continued.

“An audacious goal, but you’ll have to prove yourself before taking
upon something so large. A few small missions first, then we shall move to
Siri. But you can’t expect me to roll with such a chancy dice roll

immediately, can you?”

“Better than rolling one like Blake, which you do know is off

balance.”

“Still, you must prove yourself first. And while I need to confer with

my superior, such an action would catapult you upwards in their eyes.” He

rearranged the rocket on his desk to move forwards an inch. “Final

question. Should your mission be against your old acquaintances, would

that dissuade you?”

“No.”
“True.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 78 SC
In the beginning, they locked me in my room at night, keeping me

as little more than a prisoner. Of course, a locked door would do little to

dissuade me from leaving. But on the ride over, they had me blindfolded

before landing the helicopter, keeping me from seeing in the accompanying

two-hour car ride. When my vision was finally restored, the only lights

were fluorescent, the windows for natural light nonexistent. There were

only white tiled corridors, aluminum doors, and the card key readers that
prevented me from all but the most basic access.

If I wanted to leave, deciding which direction to go would be the

first step. With my current understanding, that could be any direction,

including up or down. We could be underground or on the fifth floor of a

warehouse, each equally viable in my mind. In a cave, under a lake, or on a

mountaintop. But to me, it didn’t matter—I had no intention of leaving.

Except for the first night, when I discovered that they kept Mikey in

the same wing as me, the next room over. Game shows played on Mikey’s

television until dawn, and his mumbled trues or falses at minute intervals

jolted me from sleep. But by the second night, my exhaustion was so great
that no amount of exclamations through the thin wall could awaken me.

Because on the second day, training began.

 “Pull!” came the shout next to me, and a red disk whizzed by my

ear, contrasting with the dark grey of the training facility. The room was the

size of two basketball courts, with a high boxed ceiling and sectioned off

with red tape in large rectangles. Each held its own set of equipment—

whether it was weights, dummy bodies, or a variety of moving obstacles. In

mine, a disk launcher was bolted to the floor, its motor whirring,

accompanied by a woman with a neck as thick as my chest.

Setting my sights on the flying target, I pulled an orb from the

pocket above my wrist, whipping it towards the disk. But as soon as it left

my hand, the woman behind me shouted, her voice echoing around the
facility.

“Stop!”

At her word, the disk froze in mid-air, my orb humming slightly

behind it, and my body went rigid in the position of my throw, still up on

one toe and my left arm swinging behind me. She moved in front of me, a

full head taller than me, her speech staccato and accented.

“You cheat. I see you cheat, you pull that from somewhere. No,
when you fight, you bring no weapon. No prepare. And your feet, they are

ugly.”

“Ugly?” I asked, barely able to move my tongue as her power

pressed in on me.
 “Ugly. Wrong. Bad motion. Move like this, not like that. You move

like you stomp on ants.”

Suddenly, the pressure released, and I fell forwards as my orb

consumed the disk and exploded halfway across the gym. Gudrid, my

instructor, reset the machine as I placed both my feet back behind a yellow

line that marked the starting point. The machine whirred once more.
“Pull!”

I tried to generate a force orb, but the lack of nearby material

prevented it, and I threw a force point instead at the flying disk. It caught it

halfway in flight, veering it off at an angle to skitter across the gymnasium

floor.

“You must break, not tap,” said Gudrid, and snapped one of the

disks across her knee to illustrate. “If I want tap, I call one of the windy

Specials. You I want break.”

“I can’t just generate orbs out of thin air,” I said, holding my hand

upwards. “At least not instantly. They need some sort of material to take
form.”

“Air is material, yes?” said Gudrid. “I did not come all this way to

hear complaints. Pull!”

Another disk flew past, and this time, I did not even try to throw an

orb, but rather started with a force point. It caught the disk quicker than the
last, and I tried to seize it, buckling gravity down quick enough to snap in

two. This one fell from flight but skipped along the floor, the edge barely

chipping.
“Stop!” Time froze again, and Gudrid kicked at my left foot, sliding

it along the padded floor.

“Wider stance, wider. There. Breathe here.” She pushed in my gut

with a palm, forcing me to expel a breath. “Not here.” She poked at my

chest. “You must have a strong base for strong power. Now, again.”

She released, and I moved back into position, just in time to hear

“Pull!”

But this time, I was ready. I generated a force point in each hand,

then sent them intersecting at a point just before the disk. They merged with

a ripple, the disk cracking clean in two in midair, each piece flying to

opposite sides of the gym.

“Good! Now, you see? No time, no prepared, still break. I did not

come all this way to see tiny taps. Again!”

She continued to launch disks as sweat started to trickle down my

forehead, and my leg muscles protested the wide stance she forced me to

maintain. But with each disk, the motion came slightly faster, slightly more

natural.
 “This, you do one hundred times in morning, and one hundred times

in night,” she said, and my shoulders dropped.

“A hundred times? But it’s easy. And you’re going to watch?”

“I did not come all this way to watch a beginner. No, Isabel with

watch,” she said, and shouted over her back, “Is! New student here for

drills. Bring water!”

From behind, a girl nearly the size of Gudrid but twenty years

younger walked forwards with two buckets of water, setting them on either

side of me.

“You need material? Here is material. Now, pull!”

The disk whizzed past, and I drew out water to form a dark orb,

launching it after it. The orb obliterated it before it was ten feet away, and

Gudrid nodded, not letting a smile cross her face.

“Is good. But I did not come all this way for slow pitch.” She dialed

the setting on the machine upwards, and the machine pitch whirred higher

as its motor sped up.

“Then what did you come all this way for? And from where?” I

asked.

“Where it is so cold, time seems to stop. That is my Special, Freeze.

And I come all this way to make a champion warrior.” She loaded a disk
into the machine and prepared to fire. “Because every champion I make,

they pay. Pay well.”

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 79 SC
The fifth day was when the aches and pains from training decreased

from a deep soreness to a dull throb, and I no longer fell asleep as soon as
my face touched a pillow. Ten hours a day was spent in training, and not all

of it on my own power. For two hours each morning, I warmed up with

basic drills under Isabel, two more hours for Gudrid to critique technique,

two hours watching others train as Gudrid commented on their

insufficiencies, two hours strength and cardio training, then two final hours
drilling again. Adding in meals and short breaks, combined with any extra

homework Gudrid assigned, left just seven hours for sleep before rising
again the next morning.

On day seven, Gudrid paid me my first large compliment.

“You better than that diamond boy. You want to learn. He, he just

punch. No thinking, only punching. Can’t learn like that.”

“You taught Blake?” I asked between flying disks. Now she would

launch two at a time, changing the pattern, no longer bothering to warn me

with shouting pull.

“Taught? Psh, I babysit him.”

I chuckled, launching orbs in what now felt casual and practiced.

“Bit of a pain in the ass, isn’t he?”

 “Just a bit. Not champion. No payment for him. Always the difficult

ones with no payment.”

Ahead, the disks fractured, and Gudrid stopped me once more to

correct my form. Like a muscle, I could feel my power changing—not

growing, exactly, but becoming firmer. More refined, coupled with a greater
sense over it, a stronger kinesthesia and understanding. There were pieces I

never mentioned to Gudrid—the parts that Anton had told me. If I ever

needed to fight among them, those would be valuable secrets to use in

surprise.

But there was something else. Something not normal to my powers,

an anomaly I just barely detected as Gudrid’s lessons became more and

more demanding. It was like finding a scratch or a scab where one didn’t

belong, or was hard to reach.

Except for me, it was a pocket in space, just behind my left

shoulder.

I’d always used the pocket above my wrist for storing dark orbs, for

a long enough time that it seemed second nature. But this ripple was new,
surprising, only appearing like an itch after a particularly exerting throw.

That was on the tenth day, and on the tenth night, before collapsing into

bed, I investigated.
 In front of the mirror in my bathroom, I squinted, trying to see the

pocket as I pulled at it with my power. Unlike the one on my wrist, this one

slid around me without much effort, following my guidance down to my

arm and above my other wrist. It was different from the first pocket—as if it

had been sewn tightly shut, the space wrapped in upon itself. Carefully, I

began to unwrap it, feeling power thrum from within. Then I slowly eased it
open, allowing only a pinprick gap to open and reveal within.

Wind howled from the gap, producing a high-pitched whistle and

blasting water over the surface of the mirror, accompanied by ice that froze

along the surface. Electricity surged, buzzing along my skin and raising my

hair before surging to the sink drain, grounding into the center. From

within, I heard the rumble of thunder. And as I smelled the accompanying

fresh ozone, my memory lurched into the past, surfacing like a book pulled

from underneath a stack, sending the tower toppling.

***
Ten Days Before

Lucio was there, along with Jeannie, at the interior of the cabin on

the length. Something seemed misplaced—for I was neither afraid of

Jeannie nor angry with Lucio. I thought I had killed Jeannie before Lucio

had a chance to meet him.

 Around Jeannie was a collection of objects from his cabin, in an

array on his floor. There were paperweights and books, chunks of concrete I

had carved away from outside, a stack of cast-iron pots and pans, some full
water bottles, and other various items. All of them heavy, and arranged in as

close as a precise circle as possible, coming up to his waist.

“That should do it,” said Lucio as he placed a small sack of marbles

to fill a final gap, forming a wall up to Jeannie’s waist. I cracked my

knuckles, stretched my shoulders, and performed a preliminary scan of the

enclosure. It felt solid enough—but I had never tried anything this large,

and at this point, everything was a guess at best.

“Anything you want to say, while you’re still… human?” I asked as

Jeannie laughed, the sound almost like the first sheets of rain of a summer

thunderstorm.

“I hardly think that’s fair. Will I become less human or more? If I

become something else, I assure you, it is not lesser.” He flashed a smile,

and there seemed to be a storm brewing behind his teeth—as if his throat

were replaced by a hurricane, his organs no longer flesh, his exterior a mere

shell of a body.

“With that said, I do have some final words, as speech is a capability

I shall likely leave behind. Should you see Dieta and Lee, let them know of
what became of me. That they produced the best possible outcome for my

situation, and that I will always be thankful.

“Of my belongings—take my storms. Leaving them here is like

leaving dynamite in the open.”

“I got you there. SC, usually, I’d give you to these—but we’re

handing enough over to the enemy already,” said Lucio, and picked up the

case containing Jeannie’s orbs. He slid them into his backpack, padding

them with two pillows from the couch, then added half the contents of

Jeannie’s cupboard.

“Not like you’ll be needing these anymore! These storms are not
going to go off in here, right?”

“No, you’re safe. Just don’t take a hammer to them. In addition, SC,

part of being the storm is being free. Completely free. I request that once a

year, you grant me that—an afternoon to rage and destroy, potentially upon

this island. You have my word that I will always return to you.”

“Deal. Out here, if something goes wrong, we should have enough

time to remedy it.”

“Which was the purpose all along, correct?” Jeannie grimaced.

“Isolation and protection. But now, growth and purpose. A worthy trade.”

Jeannie centered himself in the circle, then folded his arms over his

chest.
 “Now I am ready. Make good use of me, SC. May others know the

fury of the storm.”

“I can promise you that they will,” I said, then closed my eyes,

feeling outwards with my power. Sensing the edges of the weighted circle

just as I had with Anton, the lip that formed a handhold for me to grasp.

Then slowly, carefully, I began to stretch the fabric of space.

It took longer than with something as small as a calculator, but this

time, I knew what was required of my power, and what shape would have to

be bent. At the same time, I raised the area around Jeannie while lowering

him, pushing him into the pocket, or fold. It took the shape of a well,

separating itself off from our reality except for a tiny knot at the top, which

I helped loose for a moment more, like the open end of a cloth bag with

drawstrings.

When I opened my eyes, nearly all of Jeannie’s body had

disappeared, the rest of him shimmering and nearly translucent.

“Jeannie,” I said, my voice strained with effort. “Go storm.”

Wind rushed around him, rain pelted, thunder screamed, and hail

cracked. Lightning raged and tornadoes twisted, all paired with a sound that
filled the entire cabin. A scream of joy and release.

As he transformed, I tightened the knot at the top of the space

pocket. He winked from existence, the cabin suddenly quiet once more, the
only testament to him ever being there a small rip in space at the center of

the ring. Reaching out with my power, I pulled it towards me, cupping it

between my hands. To the naked eye, it was invisible—but I could feel the

intensity and energy hidden within.

I raised my hand, pulling the knot upwards, then placed it just

behind my left shoulder, almost out of reach. There it would stay, waiting.

Somewhere where I likely would not find it unless I was searching. I turned

to Lucio, his expression triumphant.

“That’s task one successful,” I said, shifting my shoulders as the

new pocket settled into place. “Now it’s your turn. Let’s pray this works.”
***

I blinked back in my room, reality sliding back into place before me.
That memory was mine, not imagination. And I would be tempted to think

Lucio had planted it, if it were not for the evidence before me. The knot of
space containing the raging storm that was Jeannie.

“Something isn’t right,” I muttered, my brow furrowing as my mind

struggled to make sense of the timeline. “Something’s been hidden from me

again.”
And in the darkness, from the room next to mine, I heard Mikey
utter a soft but unmistakable word.

“True.”
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter 80 Lucio
Lucio awakened starving, as if he had not eaten in days. And, in

fact, according to the date of the newscast playing just above his bed, he
hadn’t.

He coughed as he sat up—everything hurt. His muscles, his skin,

even his hair felt sore. But most of all was the splitting headache from the

top of his head, so present it almost felt like a sound, a speaker blaring a

note into his very bone.

His hands quested out in front of him, catching on the scratchy

blanket that covered his torso, as well as a cord that clamped to his index
finger, a red light on the end. He stared at it suspiciously, poking and

wiggling it for a moment, before deciding it would be best to leave it be.

Where exactly was he? That question could wait—what could not was the

half eaten cookie on the table next to him, along with a sleeping form with a
cap pulled over their eyes, too dark to make out.

A guard, likely. He must have seriously gotten himself in trouble

this time.

He devoured the cookie in two bites, doing his best to chew softly,
the staleness giving it extra crunch. A machine beeped next to him, and he

nearly leapt from the bed in surprise, as his eyes came into focus on the

screen.
 Vitals. He knew what those looked like; nearly every action movie

had some sort of sequence with a heart rate monitor. His clothes were gone

too, removed in place of a gown under his blanket. In his arm was a needle,

connected to an IV bag hanging above him, and his feet were bare, though

cold from where he had pulled the blanket up short.

A hospital, then. Held prisoner here to recover from, well, what

exactly? His head hurt too much to think, and he immediately regretted

shaking it to clear his thoughts, the piercing headache nearly knocking him

unconscious. Whoever he had fought this time had packed a punch—maybe

someone with strength? But then what was the gauze that covered his arm
and parts of his face? His mind flashed backwards to the smell of water, and

burning, and the shape of a mountain, but nothing else came, and trying to

recall only made the pain worse.

His stomach grumbled and his throat had the consistency of

sandpaper. He’d need more food, soon. And water—or better, a crisp soda,

cold as he could make it. Something flavored and extra fizzy, preferably a

fountain. Cherry.
He looked towards the cracked door in the dim light, the windows

shielded by curtains to reveal the hospital corridor beyond. The fools that

had captured him had left one sleeping guard and no restraints. The door

wasn’t even closed—escaping here would be nearly as easy as walking out.

 Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he ripped the clamp off

his finger, then unhooked the IV bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He could

take the needle out later, or better yet, get someone else to do it. If it was in

a vein, would he start leaking? Maybe he could just leave it in there and it

would pop out itself. That sounded best.

Then, as the machine behind him noticed his vacancy, starting to

voice its displeasure from the lack of vitals in a series of shrill beeps that

made the guard stir in his sleep, Lucio pattered across the floor and slipped

out the door, walking as fast as he could down the deserted hallway. One of

his legs was still asleep, threating to collapse under him, and the other

shaky. His vision fuzzed slightly, and he nearly passed up the bank of

vending machines on his right before recognizing them, stumbling over to

press his hands against the glass.

He entered in a series of buttons, one of everything in there that

called out to his hunger, and waited. But the machine only beeped, and he

tilted his head as nothing came out, laughing a moment later.

Of course, the machine needed money. He’d forgotten. He checked

his pockets, then remembered he was in a gown – but where? Why was he

—that’s right, he was in a hospital. Escape, he had to escape.

He made his way back down the corridor as a nurse spotted him and

rushed over, her mouth working. Almost delayed, the words came to him,
and slurred, and he absently wondered if maybe she had been having some

gin.

“You! What are you doing up?”

“What am I doing up?” he asked, as much to himself to her. “Oh,

that’s right, I’m escaping.”

“Escaping? Look, you need to go right back to bed. You can’t be out

here.”

She took his arm, and Lucio felt momentary panic. Where was he

again? Who the hell was she? And the memories came unbidden as he

blasted them to her, from a movie he’d watched too late in the night, which

had scared him enough to keep him from sleeping.

“Of course I’m escaping! Don’t you remember Dr. Daniel’s

experiments? The ones with the virus? Patient 009, the dead one? He’s alive

now! The dead are walking!”

Lucio clutched a hand to his heart, the fear only half faked. The

nurse paled, her words stuttering as she accessed his broadcasted memories.

“Patient 009? I warned the doctor that the procedure was too

dangerous! My god, I have to stop the contagion before it’s too late!”

“See that room, right down there?” Lucio said, pointing from where

he had come, the door ajar. “He’s only just started breathing again; he
hasn’t completely recovered. I’ll wait here, but make sure to give him a

good wallop!”

The nurse took off down the hallway, pausing only for a moment to

grab a cane leaning against a wall to use like a club, and Lucio darted back

to the exit. In moments, he was out in the crisp night air and making his

way across the parking lot and away. He knew this part of the city, but it

was a long walk back. If only he had something that would make it quicker

—and a thought tugged at his mind. Didn’t he? Wasn’t there something he

could ride, a roaring that would fill his ears, lightning fast acceleration? But

then the thought died away, and he was walking again.

Twice he caught himself walking a circle around a block, and he

nearly turned down the road to arrive back at one of his homes before the

rehabilitation facility.

The subway, he reminded himself, repeating it over and over again

under his breath to not forget, determination filling him. The subway, the

subway, the subway.

In the early morning, he finally staggered back, reaching the

entrance. It seemed more a maze than normal, and as he descended, he had

to concentrate to remember how to slide through SC’s specially made

barrier. Then he was through and into the main cavern.

 And though it was early, the lights were on, as Arial, Ennia, and

Slugger gathered around the kitchen table. Slugger looked up first, a bruise

formed over the side of his face under a nasty black eye.

“I escaped!” Lucio croaked, falling over as the last of his strength

left him. “They had me prisoner.”

“They?!” Slugger shouted, rushing over to him. “You idiot, I was

watching over you like a sleepin babe, and that nurse took a bludgeon to

me!” But then the anger fell away from his voice, and his arms were under

Lucio’s to support him, as Ennia and Arial rushed over to join the embrace.

“But idiot is better than asleep. Had me scared, lad. We didn’t know

if you would wake up.”

“You need to rest more,” declared Ennia. “We should take you right

back there. It’s only been three days, and you need much more time to heal.

You’re severely concussed at the very least!”

“But first, we need information. Desperately,” said Arial, long bags

under her eyes from lack of sleep. “Lucio, what happened on the island?

You were the only one with SC before he went mad. What did you see?”

“Island?” asked Lucio, pulling at his bandages as Ennia’s hand

swatted away his efforts. “We’re not on an island.”

“I know, but what happened back there? Where did SC go?”

 Lucio concentrated, his expression blank as he went back over his

memories. Some were easy to access, like returning from Rome. Then there

was the false call with the hurricane. He’d sold some art, he thought, though

why anyone would buy it, he had no idea.

But when he searched for SC, it was like trying to remember a word

on the tip of his tongue. Something just beyond his grasp. And after a few

minutes of focus, something distilled up to the top. A single sentence, no

accompanying images or information, but one he knew to be true.

“Can’t say I know why, but I do know it. He’s going to free Siri!”

END OF BOOK 4

1-2 books remaining in the Star Child series.

For the first chapter of Leonard Petracci’s upcoming series, Forbidden Runes, keep scrolling!

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 Forbidden Runes: Chapter 1
Draysky

Draysky met his first Ritebald when he was eighteen. And his
grandmother’s stories were true.

“Ritebalds are the devourers of souls,” she whispered, the firelight

from the wood stove’s last few embers illuminating her face, casting light

into even the deepest of wrinkles on her brow. Draysky and his sister

huddled closer to her, as much as for heat as their furtive glances towards
the dark window shutters at the end of the room.
“Their favorite meals are children. It’s the brightest souls that draw

them- the emotions that course through you, from your anger to your joy.

The Ritebald sense those, they feeds upon them. To a Ritebald, laughter is
opening bread, and tears a desert.”

Her breath frosted as she leaned backwards, her eyes flitting to the
crack under the door. No shadow masked the wooden paneling to announce

my father’s return. Sometimes, she knew, he would brave the cold to

smoke, his eyes closed as he leaned against the doorframe. The miner’s

Ridges do not need help killing your lungs, she would chide him if
discovered, swatting away the hand rolled Drossweed from his mouth. But

the Drossweed brought sleep, and on the nights Draysky’s grandmother

failed to catch him, Draysky never heard the pacing that started hours

before dawn.

“Emotions, that is what gives sustenance to a Ritebald. And who has

stronger emotions than children? With one nail, they slice your spirit open

from neck to naval. Then they pluck the soul right out, dragging it by the
emotion. Afterwards, the heart still beats, and the chest still breathes, but

the body is empty. Even a worm has more soul than a Ritebald husk.”

“What- what do they look like?” Draysky’s sister asked, her hands

wringing together through mittens stitched together from the shreds of their

father’s old trousers. Two years younger than Draysky, this was her first
telling of the Ritebald, and Draysky wished the question had died in her

throat.

“Like devils,” his grandmother hissed, lowering her voice and

leaning forwards as if the Ritebald’s themselves were listening. “Their skin

pale, with long horns atop their heads, tipped with everwet blood. Their

breath like sulfurous spoiled meat, their teeth the only part of them they

keep clean. Sharp, pristine, bigger than your fists! Their hands are clawed,
more like wolves than human. And their howl- well, it’s said if you hear

their howl, then it is already too late for you. That they have started their

hunt, and they won’t stop until they find you soul.”
 Draysky’s sisters eyes grew wide while she simultaneously tried to

cover them with the mittens, though she peered through the holes in the

fabric. Above the woodstove coals, a pot of water finally started to boil, and

their grandmother ladled out tea to fill three cups. It would strengthen their

bones, she claimed, the bitterer the better. But Drasky drank it for warmth,

holding the cup between his hands, his skin covering as much of the clay as
possible.

With that heat, as the fire flared slightly brighter and his

grandmother removed the pot, he found the courage to ask a question. One

that had formed in his mind earlier while the sun was still shining, and the

light cast doubt on the monsters that felt too real in the darkness.

“But if the Ritebald eat human souls, wouldn’t that make them

human?” he asked, a slight note of rebellion in his voice. “If they search for

emotion it’s because they want some for themselves, right?”

His grandmother cracked a slow smile, her eyes shining, an

expression that sent him huddling back into his coat. Denial or insistence

from her would be expected, something that he could argue with. But this
was agreement.

“Ah, Draysky, always the suspicious one,” she said, sipping down

the start of her tea. “Yes, you are right. One could say that the Ritebald may

be even more human than we, in the same way one might call a drunk more
passionate than an artist. They are perversions of emotions. They are rage,

or bliss, or desolation. They are the very bit that makes us human, and yet

too much of it. Something that makes them not human at all.”
“What happens if they come to get us?” Draysky’s sister asked, her

voice thin and panicked.

“That is why we have the Keeper’s protection,” their grandmother

responded. “We work for them, and the Keepers keep the Ritebald away.

Never forget that- without the Keepers, the Ritebald will find you. And

you’ll never be the same.”

She checked the shadow under the door again once more, then

started to prepare us for bed, bundling us in enough blankets that somehow

felt a protection. Deep into the night afterward Draysky would stare at the

ceiling, wondering just how much truth there was to his grandmother’s

stories. How much had been exaggerated, enhanced by time, added on to

scare him into completing his chores.

When he met his first Ritebald, her stories were true, but merely a

shadow.

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