A siren wails in the distance, drawing the crowd like moths to flame. But two figures move against the tide.
The younger—a girl of fourteen with shoulder-length black hair and bright brown skin—follows close behind an older boy. Her silvery irises catch the fading light, lending an otherworldly quality to features that balance perfectly between beauty and innocence. The boy ahead, Jake, shares her complexion darkened a shade, brown hair, and a few extra inches of height. Beyond that, they could be twins.
They weave through the shabby street, utterly indifferent to the commotion consuming everyone else. If anything, they seem entertained.
"Why do you think Aedar hates the Pact organizations so much?" Jake glances back. "Look, I get that Abstract is garbage—blood collection in exchange for resources? Disgusting. But why *all* of them? It doesn't make sense, especially since he won't tell us anything."
Amereiln's gaze sharpens. "Can't you feel it? Something's wrong with these people." Her voice drops. "Remarkable people disappear after interacting with them, Jake. And the ones who come back..." She pauses. "They come back as dogs with inflated egos. More machine than human. I don't feel any different about it than Aedar does."
They cross two more streets into emptier territory before Jake turns to her with a sigh. "I get all that, Rain, but not everyone comes back abnormal. Personally, I think your opinion is just Aedar's bias rubbing off on you." He grins. "Not that I'd join them, but if it wasn't for his pathological disgust, I'd have fallen hook, line, and sinker for what they're offering."
"Sometimes I think you hold the greed card in our little family." Amereiln's lips quirk. "It's crazy that you're trusted to deal with Ted and we're not dead yet. Not to mention that eccentric guy—what's his name again?"
"Tch, leave him out of it. Ndung'u is a great guy. Pretty normal other than praising the Circle of Creation every chance he gets. What's so bad about that?" Jake's defensive tone softens into mockery. "Plus, isn't he the one who bought you that necklace? The one Aedar confiscated the second it touched your hands—like he was afraid of some guy stealing his woman! Or a father who wants his daughter locked away forever. Sometimes I think he's in love with you just as much as you're in love with him."
Jake's laughter echoes down the empty street.
"Where does that put you?" Amereiln fires back. "You've broken more bones and smashed in more teeth than Aedar ever has. And every single victim had one thing in common—they approached me. Don't forget the times Avery and brother had to save your ass when your fights went south. Or when Ted pulled you back from the brink when you nearly died fighting in my name while settling your grudges. Should I even mention that you tried to fight Ndung'u the first time we met him? Should I remind y—"
"Okay, those were completely reasonable reactions." Jake cuts her off, defensive now. "It's been two years since you met him—you were young. And you know better than to think letting Aedar handle everything would end well. We're already outcasts. It'd be worse if more people disappeared after clashing with us." His mood darkens. "God knows he's not forgiving. Not after those two."
"Yeah." Amereiln's expression shutters.
They walk in silence until they reach an old house where another teenager sits on the verandah.
The boy has ebony hair cropped to barely an inch, light brown skin, and irises black as his hair. An oversized hoodie swallows his frame. His gaze brightens fractionally as they approach, then dims again—like a candle starved of oxygen.
"Find anything from Ted?" Aedar asks.
"Nothing unusual." Jake sighs. "Truth be told, I don't know why you're both so on edge lately. Other than new drugs and improving living conditions, I can't spot any red flags. But if it was just you worried, I'd dismiss it. Both of you being uneasy? That makes me nervous." He pauses. "Besides, Karis said most information brokers are stretched thin. Some of our own have already defected to the organizations."
"School's ramped up organization recruitment campaigns this past week too," Amereiln adds. "I have a feeling this foreboding is connected. Or at least someone involved with them is."
Aedar frowns, stands, and walks to the door. The others follow him into a dimly lit room with two large couches facing a broad table. A small kitchen occupies one corner; a dark corridor stretches from the far end.
The three settle in, and Aedar places a paper on the table.
"Two of ours have joined the organizations. One's gone missing. Another's dead." His voice is flat. "Ones has gone completely underground, and you know how impossible he is to find—not to mention what would happen if I were followed trying to track him and his crew. This is the clue he left behind." He taps the paper. "My worries weren't unfounded. They're looking for something, and most of the younger ones have it. Now they're not even hiding it anymore—blood donations, research contributions. Things are escalating."
"Did you find what they're after?" Jake's worry bleeds through as he picks up the papers.
"Why now?" Amereiln's frustration cracks her voice.
"You both know there's been a lot of strange activity, especially these last two years." Aedar looks between them. They lean closer, thinking.
"Some of the outcast groups might be involved," Jake says slowly. "The recent drug surge is too coordinated to be separate from the organizations. Should we leave town?" He meets Aedar's eyes. "I think going underground is our best option until we can prepare to leave."
Jake passes the papers to Amereiln. She skims them, frowns, then shudders involuntarily. When she looks up at Aedar, her expression has turned ice-cold.
"This isn't just about outcasts, is it?"
---
**Context:**
In 2097, after humanity scraped together enough stability to build settlements like the town of Daraja, the organizations began their recruitment drives. That's when what remained of human civilization started changing in earnest.
The change had been there before 2097—just imperceptible. Anyone who'd changed dramatically was already dead, after all. They'd been too close to the holes when they opened, and the lifeforms that emerged weren't exactly accommodating. The organizations that arose afterward were mostly established near these bases with holes, or around them.
They wanted to keep it hidden. Anyone manifesting even the slightest abnormality became fair game for organizational recruitment the moment word leaked. The only problem? As surface energy intensified, people began getting stronger. But when everyone gets stronger, it's hard to notice. The masses were fed a convenient lie: the energy in the world was creating haywire conditions. Believable enough—most survivors had witnessed what happened to technology after the holes opened.
Most organizations were simply recruitment machines for the extraordinary. Anyone with even a whiff of something above the apparent ordinary was taken. Some disappeared from public view entirely. Danger shadowed the opportunity of working with Pact organizations.
Yet many flocked to them anyway. It was like raiding a beehive for honey with no equipment, in the middle of a desert.
Still, some refused to associate with the organizations entirely. Thus the outcasts of Daraja were born.
These three orphans were among them—one cluster in a constellation of refusal. Many like them had turned to the organizations eventually. Most outcasts were ostracized to varying degrees, but those who could protect themselves weren't pushed too hard.
As for the changes in human nature? The three weren't entirely clueless. After all, you don't survive by being weak.