THE NEXT MORNING, I woke with my fists clenched around the sheets. Annoyance and envy both came to me like a heavy and stubborn wave, but I refused to drown in them. If Harriet could stand there with her unreadable face and flawless control, then so could I. If Dwight could step into a field and draw cheers, I could at least learn not to be helpless.
The first wave of energy burst from me almost too eagerly, crashing into the far wall of my room and sending dust floating lazily from the wooden beams above. My chest heaved, but I steadied myself, pulling in another breath and letting the warmth build again in my arms, gathering like a storm at my fingertips. With a sharp exhale, I flung it outward, the bluish, almost invisible barrier exploding forward with enough force to shove a chair several inches across the floor.
It felt raw, unrefined, like a child throwing tantrums instead of a warrior wielding strength. But still—it was something.
"Again," I whispered to myself. "Stronger. Cleaner. You're not incapable."
My palms burned faintly as I lifted them, and another ripple surged through my room. The lamp on my desk quivered dangerously before tipping over. I lunged to stop it, but the barrier snapped reflexively, rebounding it back toward the air like it had hit a trampoline. The lamp spun, sparks flying from the cord as it smacked the wall. And in that same instant—
"HOOT!"
Sebastian's massive wings cut through the air as he swooped through my window. My heart leapt into my throat. The lamp ricocheted off the edge of my barrier and nearly collided with his wing.
"Sebastian!" I gasped, throwing my hands down to still the energy. "Sorry! Sorry—I didn't see you—"
He landed with infuriating calm, talons tapping the floor as though nearly being brained by household furniture was simply an inconvenience he'd endured a thousand times. His eyes studied me for a long beat before he gave the faintest, most disapproving hoot. I then pressed a hand to my chest, then burst out laughing despite myself.
"Don't look at me like that. You fly in unannounced and expect me not to nearly kill you? Honestly."
Sebastian ruffled his wings in what could only be described as pointed forgiveness. If he had shoulders, he would have shrugged. But before I could offer another apology, a soft knock drew me to the door. I frowned, straightening my dress quickly before pulling it open.
Morgan was there. I gestured him to come in, his small hands clutching a sheet of paper so tightly that the edges were already crumpling. His hair hung into his wide eyes, which flicked nervously from me to Sebastian, who was perched now like some silent guardian.
"Um…" His voice was little more than a whisper. "Can you… look at this?"
I softened immediately, crouching to meet him eye-level. "Of course," I said, reaching gently for the paper.
The drawing was a storm of crayon lines—blacks, grays, and a little splash of yellow. The main figures were simple, childlike, but they drew my breath all the same: a girl in a flowing black dress, and beside her, a dog with pointed ears. Their faces were blank ovals, their backs turned to the field they were looking at. The lines around them seemed to tremble, as if the paper itself couldn't contain the image.
I looked at him. "This is, um… very good, Morgan."
His eyes darted to Sebastian, then back. "Is that your owl?"
Sebastian blinked slowly, lowering his head in faint acknowledgment.
"Yes," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the strange unease curling in my stomach. "This is Sebastian."
"Can I—" Morgan hesitated, the paper crinkling tighter in his grip. "Can I pet him?"
I turned to the owl. "Well?"
Sebastian's eyes closed once, almost… indulgent. Which tells me he's giving an approval.
I laughed softly. "I think that's a yes."
Morgan's face lit like a lantern as he stretched a cautious hand forward. Sebastian remained still, allowing the boy's small fingers to stroke the smooth feathers along his wing.
"His feathers are soft," Morgan murmured, smiling faintly.
Something in my chest loosened. For a moment, the world was gentle. For a moment, there was no CYGNUS, no Harriet, no grief hanging like smoke. Just a boy, a drawing, and the sound of feathers brushing against his palm.
"What's his name?" Morgan asked.
"Sebastian," I repeated.
Morgan nodded solemnly, as though tucking the name away in some secret pocket. Then, his small shoulders hunched, and his voice shrank again. "You know, I dreamt about that scary dream I have last night, Alice."
I blinked. "What was your dream about?"
The air cooled instantly, pressing against my skin like ice. I forced myself to meet his eyes. He was still silent, so I assured him it was okay to share to me. I then whispered, "Tell me."
Morgan's mouth twisted as though it hurt to form the words. "I mean, they don't stop. The same ones keep on coming back almost every night. The people I love… dying. And then there's this huge fire. And these men in black suits and briefcases. They're always there."
The page in his hands trembled, the crayon figures vibrating under his fingers. I reached out, steadying the paper with mine.
"I'm sorry, Morgan," I said softly.
He nodded, lips pressing thin, and then he turned and slipped quietly down the hall. His little footsteps faded like rainwater down a roof. The silence he left behind was heavy. I then sat back on my heels, the drawing still ghosted in my mind. After a short pause, Sebastian shifted to the windowsill, talons curling on the wood, which made me look at his direction.
"Hey, Seb," I said.
The owl then hooted, as if asking me, 'Yup? What's that?'
"Just out of curiosity, why won't you stay here?" I asked suddenly, the words surprising even me.
"What?" he asked.
"I mean, live here." My voice cracked against the quiet. "You're always coming and going. Watching from above. But you never stay here, in the house."
He turned his great head, golden eyes fixing on mine. And when he spoke, his voice was as calm and unshaken as his flight.
"I prefer freedom, Miss Alice. I need to move, to observe. I prefer being able to roam around and be free."
His words cut through me like a blade and balm at once. Because wasn't that me, too? Locked in expectations, in grief, in bitterness against Harriet, against the world? Trying so desperately to cage my emotions until they burned out of me anyway?
I sank onto the edge of my bed, pressing my palm into the quilt.
'Not meant to be caged.'
Was that what my gift was too? Something that couldn't be boxed into neat little shapes? A force that refused to behave, that demanded air and space, like wings cutting through the sky?
I closed my eyes. Tomorrow, I would train harder. I would not be helpless. I would not let grief chain me. But for today, I let the stillness settle and to let Sebastian's presence remind me that not all cages are walls.
***
Later that day, I slowly left the house after finishing all my chores. I mean, the willow tree had always been my sanctuary aside from my bedroom. Most afternoons, when everything inside the house pressed too hard, I escaped here.
Today, though, the shade felt emptier than usual.
Blackcap wasn't there.
The spot beneath the tree where he usually lounged, cap tipped over his brow, Hunter stretched faithfully at his side, was bare. Only the imprint of his boots pressed faintly into the dirt. I found myself staring at it longer than I should have, trying not to acknowledge the twist of disappointment in my chest.
I folded my arms, scowling at myself. "Why should I care if he's here or not? He's infuriating. Always smirking, always teasing. Always—"
A sharp bark broke my sulk.
Hunter bounded out of the woods, tongue lolling, tail wagging like a metronome of joy. He circled me once, then pressed his head against my hand with a force that nearly toppled me.
"Well, hello to you too," I muttered, crouching to scratch behind his ears. His fur was coarse but warm, and despite my mood, I couldn't help but smile. "Where's your master? Left you to babysit me?"
Hunter gave a small huff, as if insulted, then trotted in a small circle before sitting directly in front of me, staring intently into the trees.
I frowned. "What is it?"
Above me, Sebastian circled lazily in the pale sky, a dark silhouette slicing through the light. He gave a single sharp hoot, and something in my stomach dropped. And then—
BANG!
A deafening explosion cracked through the air, so sudden it rattled my bones. The ground trembled beneath my feet. Smoke curled black in the distance, rising like a monstrous hand clawing at the heavens.
My breath hitched. "Oh God."
Without thinking, I sprinted toward it. Branches whipped against my arms as I tore through the woods, heart pounding hard enough to drown out everything else. Hunter bolted beside me, his bark sharp with urgency. When I emerged into the clearing, the sight rooted me in horror.
There were bodies everywhere, like discarded dolls across the ground with their uniforms scorched, faces blackened beyond recognition. The stench of burnt flesh curled in my nose, thick and acrid, clawing at the back of my throat. Weapons lay useless at their sides. The grass was charred, the air hot with the metallic taste of blood. And I froze, unable to breathe. These weren't nameless shadows. They were men. Soldiers. People who had laughed, fought, breathed. And it hit me…
Riven.
My hands trembled.
"Don't move."
The voice cut through the haze. Behind me, the click of a gun hammer cocking back sent terror slamming into my chest. But before I could even turn—
"Alice!"
Riven's familiar voice came from a distance. When I was about to turn to his direction, I heard this loud gunshot ringing.
I flinched, bracing for pain that never came. Instead, another crack split the air. But the soldier behind me crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering uselessly at my feet. Smoke curled from Riven's handgun, his chest heaving as he stood a few feet away, eyes wide and wild.
Hunter bolted to him, barking frantically. I stumbled toward him, relief and fear crashing together in my chest. "Riven, thank God you're safe! What—what—what happened?"
His hands shook as he lowered his weapon. Sweat dripped down his temples, smearing soot along his cheek. "Ambush," he rasped, his voice raw. "Terrorists ambushed us. They came out of nowhere."
I looked around again, my stomach twisting at the lifeless forms. "Your—your unit—"
"They're gone." His jaw clenched. "Damn it!"
"Riven," I said his name softly.
"All of them. I'm the only one left. Damn it!" he yelled. For the first time, I saw his cold and angry self. I was used to seeing his playful and funny side, but this side of him made me silent.
After he shout in frustration, the silence that followed was deafening. The crackle of smoldering earth, the distant call of crows, Hunter's whine pressing against Riven's leg.
I swallowed hard, my throat burning. "I'm sorry."
His eyes flicked to mine, and for the first time since I'd known him, the smirk, the careless mask, was gone. He looked human. Broken. But before I could say more, movement flashed at the edge of the trees.
"Riven!" I screamed.
Another soldier burst from the shadows, gun raised. His eyes locked on Riven, his finger tightening on the trigger. And then, time seemed to slow.
I saw the barrel flare, saw the bullet carve through the air, and something inside me snapped. My hands shot forward, instinct stronger than thought. The air rippled. A dome of shimmering light burst from my palms, expanding like glass blown in an instant. The bullet struck it with a hiss, ricocheted harmlessly, and spun off into the trees.
Silence.
Then Riven turned, his face etched in disbelief. His gun lowered, his chest heaved, his eyes—God, his eyes—were locked on me like I had become a stranger.
The enemy soldier cursed, stumbling back, before darting into the trees, and vanishing into smoke and shadow. But Riven didn't chase him. He didn't move at all. He just stared.
"You…" His voice cracked.
"Riven, I—
"What—what did you—"
Before I could find words, a flash of wings split the clearing. Sebastian landed with a force that shook the dirt, as his feathers scattered like ash. His body shifted, bones changing, limbs stretching until the man stood where the owl had been, dark feathers falling into his eyes, with his clothes covering his human body. The transformation burned into the air like something ancient, something forbidden. But Riven's face paled.
"What…" His voice broke, strangled with shock. "What are you—what is this?"
He staggered back a step, gun raising slightly though his hands shook too violently to hold it steady. His breath came ragged, fear raw in his eyes.
"Riven, wait," I said quickly, stepping forward, palms raised. "Please—it's not what you think—"
"Not what I think?" His laugh was hollow, cracking at the edges. "I just watched you conjure a— a wall out of thin air! And him—" He jabbed the gun toward Sebastian, voice rising. "He just turned into—into—"
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "Calm yourself."
"Calm myself?" Riven's voice broke again, desperate. "What the hell are you?"
My chest clenched. Every word felt like it was cutting me open. "Riven, listen to me—I can explain. Just—not here. Please. Trust me—"
"Trust you?" His eyes were wide, glassy. "How can I trust you when I don't even know what you are?"
The words cut deeper than any blade.
I reached for him anyway, my voice trembling. "I'm still me. I'm still Alice."
But he shook his head, backing away. Hunter barked anxiously, running between us as if trying to bridge the gap.
Riven's breath hitched. Then he turned. And ran.
"No—Riven, wait!" My voice cracked, breaking, but he didn't stop. He disappeared into the trees, Hunter darting after him.
I stood frozen in the clearing with the corpses of his comrades lying in silent testament, and the smell of ash covered my lungs. My barrier flickered out, leaving my hands empty and trembling. But Sebastian placed a hand on my shoulder.
I may have screwed up.
***
That night, I couldn't sleep. After creeping back to the home, unnoticed, I ate dinner with the rest of the gifted beings. But no one noticed my changed demeanor, even until I returned to my room. I was still bothered by Riven's last words. Thick, suffocating, and impossible to shake. It wasn't the kind that roared or came with tears spilling in torrents—it was quieter, slower. A weight pressing behind my ribs, squeezing tighter every time I tried to breathe.
I sat cross-legged on my bed, the room dim except for the lamp I flung earlier flickering beside me. Its light jittered with every draft, throwing shadows across the wall like ghosts, reaching and retreating. Ryan's files lay spread out in front of me, pages scrawled with notes and diagrams, his careful handwriting trying to give order to what felt like a world unraveling.
"The Others."
That was what he called them. Not the word human—they'd abandoned those. Not by the word gifted—that didn't belong to them. They were "The Others," stripped of humanity, consumed by power until they became something else entirely. Monsters in suits, carrying injections that turned blood into poison, mercy into smoke.
I traced a finger over the word again and again until the letters blurred. My mind drifted, not to the horrors described in the files, but to the look on Riven's face. The way he had stared at me earlier, shock hollowing him out, and fear gripping his voice until it cracked. I had tried to reach him, tried to remind him that I was still me—but he had run.
He'd looked at me like I wasn't human.
My chest clenched, sharp as glass.
I pressed the heel of my hand against my sternum, willing the ache to stop. "Don't think about him," I muttered to myself. "He made his choice, Alice."
But the truth was crueler. The truth was that I wanted him to come back. And I don't even under why. I don't even understand why I was bothered in the first place.
The files blurred again. I tried to force myself to read about the tactics of CYGNUS, about how they marked their victims, about the experiments whispered through broken testimonies. But every paragraph unraveled into thoughts of Riven—his smirk, his cap tilted low, the way he called me "Whit" as if mocking himself too. His hand, steady when pulling the trigger to save me. His hand, trembling when he realized what I was.
I shut the folder with more force than necessary, the sound sharp in the silence. My candle guttered low, flame shrinking.
I hate that I'm so bothered right now.
But then—
A knock.
Soft. Barely there. I froze. My body stiffened, breath caught halfway up my throat. The knock came again, urgent but quiet, as though whoever it was didn't want to be heard.
My gaze darted to the window. And my heart stopped. Moonlight bathed the glass, like the silver spilled across the floor. And framed in it, leaning slightly as if unsure, was him.
I scrambled up, nearly knocking over the files, my pulse racing so loudly I wondered if he could hear it through the glass. His eyes were fixed on me, dark and heavy with something I couldn't name—guilt, fear, maybe both. For a long second, neither of us moved. The only sound was the faint rustle of leaves outside, the quiet hoot of Sebastian somewhere far off. Then, breath shaking, I rushed to the window and shoved it open.
"Riven!" I whispered.
"Hey," he said.
"How did you even find me?" I whispered harshly than the first time, my voice trembling more than I wanted it to.
He climbed in carefully, his boots scraping the wood, his movements uncharacteristically hesitant. Hunter followed after, tail low, as if he too understood the delicacy of this moment.
"Hunter followed your scent," Riven said quietly, his tone stripped of the teasing bravado he usually wore like armor. He wouldn't look at me fully, his gaze lingering on the floor before finally flicking to mine. "I… I couldn't leave things like that. I didn't want to leave you."
The words lodged themselves in my chest. But I swallowed hard. "But you ran."
His jaw clenched. His hands flexed at his sides. "I freaked out, Whit." He exhaled shakily, the sound almost like defeat. "But I couldn't leave you like that. After losing my comrades, you were the only one left."
Something cracked in me then—anger, relief, hurt all tangled into one. My throat burned. "Do you have any idea how that felt? To have you look at me like—like I was—" My voice faltered. I couldn't even finish the sentence.
My breath hitched, but before the ache could spill into tears, he stepped closer. "I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't know what I was seeing. One moment, bullets were flying, and the next… you're standing there with—" He gestured helplessly, as though the words wouldn't form. "With light coming out of your hands. And then that owl came—" His eyes darted to the window as if expecting the owl to swoop in at any second. "He changed into this humanoid creature. I didn't know what to think. I panicked."
His voice cracked on the last word, raw with guilt.
I hugged my arms to my chest, my thoughts a whirlwind. I wanted to stay upset, to tell him he'd proven exactly what I feared—that no one would see me as human once they knew the truth. But the way he stood before me now, not smirking, not mocking, but stripped down to something almost vulnerable—
It made my resolve falter.
"You came back," I said softly, more to myself than to him.
"I had to," he replied. His gaze met mine finally, steady despite the storm inside it.
"Anyway, you should come in," I said, assisting him with his bag.
My heart hammered. For weeks, I had hidden what I was, buried it beneath excuses and silences. To admit it aloud felt like stepping off a cliff.
But he was here. And God help me, I wanted him to stay.
I sat back down on the edge of my bed, motioning for him to sit across from me. He hesitated, then sank into the chair, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Hunter curled at his feet, eyes half-lidded but ears alert.
I looked at the files still scattered across the bedspread, the candlelight quivering over the word Others. My fingers toyed with the edge of a page.
"Everything I'm about to tell you," I began slowly, my voice careful, "you can't repeat to anyone. Not anyone."
He nodded once, firmly.
I drew in a breath, steadying myself. "You asked what I am. The truth is—I don't know what the right word is anymore. Some call us gifted. Others would call us cursed. All I know is that… I was born with something inside me. Something that woke up when my world was torn apart."
He said nothing, only watched me with eyes that searched deeper than I liked.
I continued, quieter now. "What you saw today—that barrier—it's my gift. I can create force fields strong enough to stop bullets, fire, whatever comes at me. But it's not just a gift. It's a part of me. And I've been terrified of what that means ever since the night my parents—"
My throat closed.
Riven leaned forward slightly, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard it. "I'm sorry."
The silence stretched again. My mind screamed that this was the moment he would leave for good. That he'd rise, disgusted, and never look back. But he didn't. Instead, his voice, low and steady, filled the space. "Alice… you saved my life today."
I blinked up at him, startled.
He gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "I was dead. That bullet was meant for me. And you—you stopped it. So if this is what being gifted means, then…" His voice trailed, and he swallowed hard. "Then maybe it's not something to fear."
I looked at him—really looked at him—and saw no mockery, no revulsion. Maybe just gratitude.
Tears pricked my eyes before I could stop them. I turned my face slightly, embarrassed, but he leaned closer.
"Hey," he murmured. "Don't hide that."
I laughed weakly through the sting. "You're the one who ran from me."
He winced. "Fair. But I came back."
I shook my head, smiling despite the tears. "Idiot."
His mouth curved slightly. "Takes one to know one."
For the first time in what felt like forever, the fog of grief lifted, just a little. Sitting there with him, with Hunter snoring softly at his feet and the lamp flickering between us, I let myself believe that maybe I wasn't a monster. Maybe someone could see me, power and all, and not turn away.
But deep down, another thought lingered—sharp, unrelenting. If he stayed, if he truly understood, then his world would never be the same.
But then, he asked. "Kidding aside, Alice, since I'm now tangled by this world, I need you to explain everything to me. Everything."