Three weeks.
It had been three full weeks of sneaking out of the house, whispering lies into my pillow about going to bed early, and practically falling asleep in algebra with my face in my hoodie. Three weeks of sprinting through the woods in pitch darkness, of getting my energy blasted out of me and then stitched back together. Three weeks of Julian pointing at my forehead and going, "Focus," like I didn't already have a migraine from concentrating on fifteen floating spoons.
And now, here I was, standing in front of the Gossamer Network's training grounds. Well—"standing" might be a generous word. More like wobbling in place with my mouth halfway open, one foot still hovering in midair from stepping off the floating silver portal disk thingy we arrived on.
"This… is insane," I whispered, spinning in a slow circle.
The grounds looked like something out of a sci-fi fantasy novel that had decided to skip logic and go full chaos. Towering crystalline buildings spiraled toward a sky that wasn't even the right color—lavender fading into peach with flecks of gold. Floating platforms zoomed through the air, carrying kids my age dressed in sleek black and glowing blue uniforms. And on the far end, there was what I swear looked like a waterfall going up instead of down.
Julian stood beside me with his usual bored expression, arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be napping. "This is the lower quadrant," he said. "The main training zone is on the fourth layer."
"This is the lower quadrant?" I choked. "How many layers are there?"
"Seventeen."
I had to sit down.
A little beep sounded, and a glowing silver bracelet zipped out of nowhere and clipped itself onto my wrist like it had been personally offended I didn't already have one. I flinched.
Julian didn't even blink. "It's your identity marker. Tracks your movement, adjusts your environment to your power level, and keeps anyone from accidentally exploding you."
"Oh, great," I muttered, staring at it. "Because spontaneous combustion is a normal concern."
Julian didn't even dignify that with a reply.
Alvin came bounding over a second later like he was born for this place. He was dressed head to toe in the sleek Gossamer uniform, holographic clipboard already in hand. He beamed when he saw me.
"Welcome to the Network, Jules! First time's always overwhelming. I cried for thirty-six minutes and had a panic attack next to a vending machine."
"Thank you for that deeply comforting image."
He winked. "Anytime."
Julian sighed. "We should get moving."
The moment we stepped onto the translucent bridge leading toward the main complex, a glowing orb hovered in front of us and projected a welcome message in at least six different languages—including one I swear was just a series of hums and clicks. I leaned closer. The orb flinched away.
"I think I offended it," I whispered to Alvin.
"Oh, it's just shy," Alvin said, petting it. "They respond better to affection. Or compliments."
"…It's literally a floating lamp."
"It has feelings."
Julian groaned and kept walking.
The inside of the complex was even more jaw-dropping. People everywhere. Young psychics in synchronized combat classes, others in meditation domes with floating rocks circling their heads. Someone sprinted past me with actual lightning sparking off their arms, and a girl drifted by upside down like gravity just gave up on her halfway through math class.
And yet somehow the most terrifying part was the office-style clipboard Julian handed me.
"Wait, what's this?" I asked.
"Your assessment schedule," he replied blandly. "Today, you'll demonstrate your mind reading precision, telekinetic control, and adaptive agility."
"I—what?"
He pointed to the first time slot. "You have five minutes before your first test."
Alvin gave me a thumbs-up like this wasn't the worst news I'd heard since middle school picture day. "You got this!"
I looked between the two of them. "You people are psychotic."
Julian smiled faintly. "Welcome to the family."
—
The mind-reading precision test was not what I expected.
I was sat across from a man with the cold, piercing eyes of someone who definitely knew all your secrets and judged you harshly for them. He said nothing. Just stared.
"…Am I supposed to ask questions?"
"No," he said. "Just listen."
I tried. Focused. Reached out with my mind like Julian taught me, filtered out the chaos, the noise, the—
—forgot to feed the fish, must text Allura—wait, did I leave the oven on—why is her hair shaped like a llama—
I blinked. "Um. Are you… thinking about llamas?"
He looked unimpressed. "That was your own intrusive thought."
"Oh."
"Well, that's embarrassing," Alvin said from behind the glass.
Next up was telekinetic control. I was handed a room full of objects, from pebbles to couches. A digital screen blinked "START."
"Lift the pebble," it instructed.
Easy.
"Stack the books."
A little harder.
"Rearrange the furniture into a feng shui pattern."
I gave it my best shot, but somewhere between hoisting a sofa and nearly flinging a vase into the next dimension, I was politely asked to "please cease all activity before property damage becomes irreparable."
Julian didn't say anything when I left the room with smoke in my hair. He just handed me a juice box.
"I hate it here," I mumbled.
"You'll survive."
—
Lunch was thankfully less chaotic.
We sat on a rooftop terrace overlooking a shimmering lake that might have been water or pure psychic energy—I honestly didn't want to know. Kim and Jake joined us via holo-call, projected onto little discs on the table. Alvin, bless his overly social heart, was already trying to convince Jake to join the network himself.
"You'd look amazing in the uniform," Alvin insisted. "All black, brooding… very mysterious bad boy vibes."
Jake actually blushed. "I—I don't brood."
Kim snorted.
Julian raised an eyebrow. "Are we discussing fashion or psychic warfare?"
"Both are important," Alvin said.
Eventually, the conversation turned serious. Julian tapped on the tabletop, and a projection bloomed into a map of the globe—glowing nodes and lines forming a complex network. Literal webs of power.
"This," he said, "is the Gossamer Network. Or at least, the public layer of it."
"There's more?" I asked.
"Always."
He zoomed in on a flashing red sector. "We track psychic anomalies worldwide. Rogue agents, suppressed energies, illegal experimentation. Our mission is to protect and recover endangered psychics. And sometimes… we don't always succeed."
The air around us dimmed.
"We've lost people," Julian continued. "Kids. Families. This isn't just a training ground. It's preparation for war."
Alvin put a hand on my shoulder. "But it's also a place to belong. To grow. And for someone like you, Julia? Someone whose power doesn't fit the usual rules?"
I looked down at the silver bracelet, glowing gently with my pulse.
"You could do more than survive here," he said. "You could lead."
I swallowed.
No pressure, right?
—
That night, when I finally got home and collapsed onto my bed, my brain was still buzzing.
Seventeen layers of psychic warriors. Sky waterfalls. Combat rooms with zero gravity. Julian's strange smiles. Alvin's wild stories. Kim and Jake arguing over who would win in a battle: Professor X or some guy named "Mentalist Maximus" (Kim made him up, I think).
I curled under the blanket, staring at the ceiling.
Was this really happening?
Three weeks ago, I was dodging hallway bullies and praying no one noticed the fork floating behind my backpack. Now I was… maybe something more.
And tomorrow?
Tomorrow, I had flight class.
Flight. Class.
I smiled.
Yeah. This was definitely the kind of chaos I could get used to.