The alley stayed strangely quiet after Caelum stepped away from the mirror, as if even the wind didn't want to disturb whatever had just stared back at him. He flexed his fingers once, twice—trying to shake the feeling that something had brushed against his skin when the tendril touched the glass.
He told himself it was nerves.He didn't believe it.
Behind him, Tavian and Dr. Ashcroft were still arguing in low, tense voices.
"No, Tavian, these readings aren't random," Vireen snapped. "Look at the decay curve—this wasn't passive energy release. It's directed."
"So what?" Tavian shot back. "Someone's out here erasing dumpsters for fun?"
"Not 'someone,'" Vireen corrected. "Something."
Caelum closed his eyes. The word hit too close.
He turned back toward them, trying to steady his voice. "If this thing is so precise, what's it targeting?"
Vireen didn't answer. He was staring at the datapad again, brows furrowed so hard they nearly touched.
Tavian frowned. "Dr. Ash? Earth to—"
Vireen cut him off in a hushed tone. "The anomaly pulse… it repeats."
Caelum froze. "Repeats how?"
"Like a heartbeat."
The air felt heavier.
Vireen paced toward the deeper end of the alley, motioning them to follow. "Most spatial disturbances diminish with each pulse. This one gets stronger. More refined. Like it's learning."
"Learning?" Tavian echoed. "Doc, please tell me you don't think the anomaly has a personality."
"I think," Vireen said slowly, "that whatever is causing this wants to be recognized."
A cold rush flooded Caelum's chest.Recognized.Seen.
Almost like the silhouette in the mirror had been waiting for him to look.
He swallowed hard. "What does that mean for us?"
Vireen stopped walking. His gaze settled on Caelum—sharp, analytical, and suddenly too direct.
"It means," he said, "that the anomaly might be seeking contact."
Caelum forced himself not to react. His pulse pounded in his ears.
"Why are you looking at him like that?" Tavian asked suspiciously, stepping in front of Caelum without thinking.
"I'm looking at the facts," Vireen replied. "These events began recently. They correlate with emotional surges, acute stress responses—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't have to.
Caelum's stomach twisted. "You think I did this."
Tavian's head whipped around. "What? No, no, Caelum—he's just making theories, that's his whole thing—"
"It's not an accusation," Vireen said, though the way he studied Caelum made it feel exactly like one. "It's an observation. You've been… different lately."
Different.Unstable.Dangerous.
He heard the words even though Vireen didn't say them.
Something inside Caelum flickered—like a muscle clenching in a part of him that didn't physically exist. The air bent subtly around him, warping the way heat does above pavement.
Tavian noticed.His eyes widened."Caelum… hey, breathe. Relax, okay?"
Caelum tried.
He really did.
But the pressure was back—building behind his eyes, in his skull, in the space between thoughts. Like another heartbeat threaded through his own.
And then—
A sharp crack split the air.
The mirror behind him fractured down the center… without being touched.
Shards trembled, still clinging to the frame, vibrating like they were trying to break free.
Vireen reached for his scanner immediately. "Everyone back."
Tavian tugged Caelum's jacket. "Dude—this is not normal, we need to—"
The mirror exploded outward.
Not in a burst of glass, but in a burst of darkness—a ripple of shadow that slid across the ground like liquid smoke. Caelum stumbled back as the shape rose from the shards, forming a tall, distorted silhouette.
Not human.But almost.Like someone had drawn a person from memory and gotten the details wrong.
The same figure from earlier.
The one that smiled without a mouth.
It tilted its head at Caelum, mirroring his posture from a heartbeat ago.
Tavian grabbed Caelum's arm. "We should run."
The shadow took a step forward.
Caelum felt something break open inside him.
Not fear.Recognition.
The world dimmed around the edges as his pulse synced with an invisible rhythm—his and the silhouette's breath folding together like matched notes in a chord.
Vireen whispered, shaken for the first time Caelum had ever heard:
"…It's responding to him."
The shadow raised a hand.
Caelum's hand rose with it—without his permission.
Tavian's voice cracked. "Caelum, stop—"
"I'm not doing this," Caelum whispered.
But the silhouette's fingers spread.
Reality around its hand distended—like the world was a curtain being pulled at the threads. Light bled inward toward its palm.
And Caelum felt himself slipping toward that same motion, his own ability stirring, answering, syncing.
A magnetic pull.A call he wasn't meant to resist.
The shadow reached toward him.
Caelum's vision flickered—
White.Black.White.
And then—
The silhouette whispered in a voice only he could hear:
"Come back."
Everything snapped.
The alley returned.
The shadow was gone.
Only the cracked mirror remained, still trembling.
Caelum collapsed to one knee, gasping, his pulse a frantic stutter.
Tavian dropped beside him. "Caelum—hey—hey, look at me. Are you okay? What happened?"
Caelum tried to speak, but the words came out raw. "It—knew me."
Vireen crouched slowly, eyes full of a fear he couldn't hide. "No. No, Caelum… it didn't just know you."
He lifted the datapad, showing readings that spiked off the charts.
"It was synchronized with you."
Caelum stared at the mirror's fractured surface.
His reflection stared back—wide-eyed, exhausted.
But behind him, in the shards, he swore he saw a second reflection.
A darker one.A waiting one.
And this time…it waved.