Freda came to a sudden halt, her boots sinking slightly into the wet dirt. The storm howled around her, carrying the scent of ozone. Jayden, a few paces behind, stopped as well, squinting through the violent gusts. The typhoon twisted violently above them, tearing leaves from branches and scattering them into the air like frightened birds. Then, they both turned— A dark cloud loomed at the center of the storm. Its depth was unnatural, swallowing the light itself. “Reece…” Jayden muttered under his breath. “Huh?” Freda turned, her hair whipping across her face. Delia had gone farther ahead, her pace steady until the same heavy pressure hit her chest. She froze, glancing back to see the others staring into the distance. When her eyes met the swirling blackness, her lips pressed into a thin line. “We better get going,” she said calmly, though her tone carried the faint edge of unease. “We have our jobs cut out for us already.” “She’s right…” Freda replied quickly, forcing he

“Why are you crying?”“It was your blood…” Freda pushed Neil backward. “Wasn’t it?”“Ummm…” Neil scratched his head.“When will you stop being careless, Neil?” she barked.“I don’t know…” he answered. “I guess when you guys stop being careless, actually.”“What did you just say?” she snapped.Freda thrust her fist toward his face and waved it theatrically. Neil lifted his arm in mock surrender and chuckled. Freda started spouting words that didn’t make sense—like another dialect—then threw both hands in the air and bellowed. The bus erupted into wild laughter. Delia, however, stayed calm and watched.Suddenly Neil felt a cold, murderous energy surge through the air—a dark aura that felt antagonistic to everything living. He spun, trying to locate the source of the toxic wave, but it seemed to come from every direction. He reached for his spatial sense, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again.Freda stepped back two paces when she saw his eyes change. Brown shifted

Delia glanced over at Rory and Cheryl, who were still bickering so loudly it made her blood boil. Without warning, she fired two ice spears that zipped past their faces. Both froze in shock. Rory panted heavily, and Cheryl turned her head toward Delia—her neck twisting stiffly like a broken doll. She tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. “Oh my God… seriously?!” they both shouted. Delia simply pointed toward the vault door. They followed her gesture—and saw that Neil was gone. “What happened?” Rory asked. “He vanished,” Delia said bluntly. “Meaning… how?” Cheryl frowned. “Well, he just vanished.” Delia’s tone didn’t change. “And you didn’t tell us?” Rory complained. Delia’s sharp glare made him swallow hard. Without replying, she turned back to the door, as if she had an idea. She stretched out her right arm, reaching for something invisible. Rory and Cheryl watched in silence. Just as Rory stepped forward to stop her— Zap! A figure suddenly fell into Delia’s arms, whi

“Why can’t I cry?” he whispered. “Am I… becoming a monster?”The door creaked open behind him, then closed again. Footsteps approached quietly. Neil looked up slowly to meet the gaze of Prof. Hiro, then immediately buried his face in his hands. Hiro sat beside him, eyes on the snow-covered yard.“You know…” Hiro began softly. “Blaming yourself won’t ease your mind. You saved everyone.”“By nearly killing them?” Neil muttered. “Yeah, That’s encouraging.”Hiro scoffed lightly. “Nope. But it wasn’t your fault either.”“Then whose fault is it?” Neil asked.“The curse you bear,” Hiro replied.Silence lingered.“So you knew?” Neil lifted his head. “That another ability emerged—one I can’t control.”“I heard. But that doesn’t mean you’re to blame.” Hiro folded his arms. “You’ll need to learn to suppress it. That comes with training.”“Easier said than done, when they’re still monitoring us,” Neil sighed.“Oh? You know about that?” Hiro’s tone sharpened.“Yeah,” Neil exhaled. “We’re always be

The meeting commenced with every Elder seated, each raising concerns tied to the ongoing war. Complaints filled the hall — about their slipping ranks among other nations, about failed missions, about dwindling influence. Nathaniel sat quietly among them, his gaze fixed on one man—Elder Potter. “What about the Abominable Project?” asked an Elder from the second row. “There’s been some progress,” replied another from the third. “But all prototypes were destroyed by unknown variables. We’re falling behind.” “Forcing advanced Gifted into battle is risky,” said another. “It weakens our internal defense.” Before the debate could spiral again, the First Elder slammed the armrest of his chair. A shockwave rippled through the air, silencing the hall. “Complaints won’t bring us results,” he barked. “We need solutions.” The silence that followed was broken only by the rhythmic tap of a cane. Every eye turned toward Elder Potter, a faint smirk curling his lips. “You have something to say?”