The day felt ordinary, or at least that was the impression for most people. Taylor Hebert walked along the narrow, cracked sidewalks of Brockton Bay. Her steps were heavier than usual, as if some unseen weight pressed on her shoulders. The sun hung low, casting long shadows that twisted in strange ways, but she barely noticed the subtle hints of the world around her. To her, the air was thick with the familiar scent of salt and damp earth. In her chest, something old and cold stirred, like a distant echo of a bell that had long been forgotten. She couldn't explain it in a way that made sense to anyone else, but she knew it was there. It had always been buried deep within her, beneath her mother's voice and the call of a Mawile, urging her toward a place she could never fully reach without revealing her truth as more Mawile than human.
The wind howled down the streets, kicking up dust and leaves in spirals. Bully laughter echoed nearby. This time, Emma Barnes, her closest friend, was the target. The cruel taunts never changed—mocking and demeaning—directed at Emma's hair, her clothes, and her very presence. "Look at that freak," one of the boys shouted, tossing a stone at Emma's feet. "What's wrong with you? You think you're better than us?" Taylor's hands turned into fists, and something wild and unrestrained awoke within her. Without thinking, she exhaled sharply. The breath carried a surge of power, rippling through the air as if the wind had been summoned to obey her.
"Torment," she whispered, the word sliding off her lips like a curse. The boy closest to Emma—Zachary, the ringleader—suddenly froze. Confusion and frustration crossed his face. His previously clear thoughts became tangled, each word he tried to speak now shrouded in doubt, as though an unseen force twisted his intentions. Emma blinked, then turned to Taylor, her eyes wide. "What... what did you do to him?"
"Nothing," Taylor replied softly, feeling the wind swirl around her feet. "Not yet." Her voice was calm, even as she sensed the darkness within her. She hadn't yet called on the deeper powers—the forces that lived between worlds, bearing the faces of ancient spirits, long forgotten. One of the other boys, Mark, took a step back, fear growing in his eyes. "What's wrong with you?" he spat. "You're a freak, just like she is!"
"Fairy Wind," Taylor spoke again. The words were soft yet firm, and this time, the wind answered her command. It surged forward, not just a breeze but a powerful storm, sharp like the claws of a vengeful beast. The gust wrapped around Mark, lifting him from his feet. He screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the force of the wind. He crashed against the cold, gray wall of the alley, crumpling like a ragdoll. The wind showed no sympathy; there was no mercy in its touch. It was a force born of myth and malice, a reminder that even those who walked among people could be struck by ancient powers beyond their comprehension.
The boys scrambled away, trembling and wide-eyed, their cowardice fully exposed as they fled in terror. Emma stepped forward, awe and concern filling her face. "Taylor, what... what was that?"
"I don't know," Taylor said softly, her gaze distant as if tracking something unseen. She felt the presence just beneath the surface of their world, which was not truly theirs. From the shadows at the alley's edge, a low, eerie laugh echoed. It seemed to come from nowhere, from everywhere. It was the sound of something ancient, something that had watched the birth of stars and the fall of empires. It laughed like a being that had seen many kings and queens rise and fall, their names and faces forgotten, replaced by legends.
"Perhaps it is time, little one," the voice whispered, heard only by Taylor. "Perhaps it is time to awaken fully. To call upon the power you have always carried within you." She shuddered at the weight of those words, feeling the old magic press against her. She had always known it was there—deep in her veins, beneath her skin, a gift from the creature that birthed her, something not human but much older. A Mawile. A creature of duality, trickery, and charm, but also of vengeance, darkness, and deep, cold places where shadows lurked.
"You're not like them, Taylor," Emma said, her voice trembling. "You're... different."
Taylor said nothing, her gaze drifting back to the shadows, where the wind still howled, carrying whispers from a world far older than their own. The Fairy Folk. The Dark types. They were all creatures of myth and legend. But those legends were real. They walked the earth, hidden in plain sight, waiting and watching. And now, Taylor, daughter of a Mawile, found a place in both worlds.