Ever since I learned to walk, read, and write, I knew I was different. With just a glance at someone's posture or the slightest shift in their expression, I could sense what they were thinking. I could tell whether a person carried goodness or something darker inside them. Because of that, I became careful and selective about the people I chose as my friends.
By the time I was six, I knew the world wasn't a playground it was a chessboard where everyone was playing for themselves.
Sixteen years of being an observer has taught me one thing, safety is found in silence.
I don't do "friends." People are unpredictable and usually disappointing. Instead, my world is curated within the four walls of my bedroom. My best friends are Ice cream, Novels, and Writing. I'm not sure I could exist without that trio.
The peace shattered when my door slammed against the wall with a bone-jarring thud.
"Janette! Where the fuck did you put my red tank top?"
It was Vivian— my sister, who was a year older than me, and we are polar opposites. Fire and Ice. Vivian is a storm of misplaced entitlement and expensive perfume and today she was looking to burn something down.
"I don't wear your clothes, Viv," I said, my voice flat. I didn't look up from the book I was reading.
"You did the laundry!" she shrieked.
"Maybe do your own laundry next time if you're worried about the inventory," I murmured, flipping a page.
I felt the air in the room sharpen. Vivian took a predatory step forward. "I have a party tonight. If I don't find that top, I'm to beat the shit out of you. Get up. Now. You ugly beanstalk."
I finally looked at her. Her face was a mask of petty rage. "Check the donation bin," I said coolly. "Mom was clearing out 'clutter' for the orphanage this morning."
"Whaaat!" She let out a frustrated growl, spun on her heel, and stormed out, slamming my door shut and screaming for our mother.
Great. My afternoon was ruined. I sighed, rubbed my eyes, and felt the few coins jingling in my pocket. I needed a walk. I needed my "best buddy"—strawberry ice cream.
The silence that followed was hollow.
I pulled on my black hoodie, and went downstairs. Vivian and mom were arguing in the living room. I slipped past them without them noticing. I was a ghost in my own home—a boring, invisible glitch in their lives.
Ten minutes later, I was standing by a roadside ice cream truck.
"One strawberry flavoured ice-cream, please," I said, handing over my coins.
I took the cone, the cold sugar hitting my tongue like a sedative. It's okay, I told myself. Just you and me, buddy.
Then, the world broke.
A sudden, unnatural wind didn't just blow—it sucked the oxygen right out of my lungs. I gasped, my knees hitting the pavement as a shadow of pure, icy dread passed through my soul. When I finally managed to open my eyes, the world had turned into a photograph.
A group of neighbourhood kids were suspended mid-stride, their laughter frozen on their faces. A stray leaf hung motionless in the air. Even the ice cream melting down my hand had stopped mid-drop, a pink bead of cream hanging like a jewel in the sun.
Silence wasn't the right word. It was a void.
BOOOM!!
A roar like a thousand lightning strikes tore the sky open. An office building three blocks away disintegrated into a plume of grey dust. And there, hovering over the wreckage, was a nightmare made of light.
It was a man—or something that looked like one—wreathed in pulsing, violent energy. Before I could even scream, a second otherworldly figure erupted from the rubble like a heat-seeking missile. They collided with the force of a tectonic shift.
I watched, paralyzed, as they tore through the skyline blasting themselves with energy. They weren't just fighting— they were rewriting physics. One of them smashed into the skyscraper directly above me. The sound of groaning steel screamed through the air as the top ten floors began to tilt.
I wanted to run. My brain screamed Move! But my legs were lead. I stared up at the figure closest to me.
Our eyes met.
His weren't human. They were swirling vortexes of dark purple flame. He looked down at me, and for a heartbeat, the chaos of the battle vanished. He looked... shocked.
The building gave way. A shadow of concrete and glass descended, certain death falling at ninety feet per second. I closed my eyes.
I didn't feel the crush. Instead, I felt a pair of arms—solid as iron and radiating an impossible heat—wrap around my waist. The world blurred. When my feet hit the ground again, we were blocks away.
He didn't let go immediately. The purple flames in his eyes flickered, dimming into a deep, haunting violet as he stared at me.
"This cannot be. The world is locked in my stasis... yet you move through the silence as if you were never bound at all. Who—what—are you?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but my gaze flicked past his shoulder. A second creature—a jagged silhouette of black smoke and hollow red eyes—was screaming toward us.
"Watch out!"
I shrieked, shoving him aside with brut force. But it was too late. I couldn't save myself, I wasn't fast enough. A dark blade was plunged into my chest by the shadowy figure.
Pain wasn't the first thing I felt. It was cold. A deep, soul-shattering frost spreading from my heart. I fell, the pavement rushing up to meet me.
The stranger let out a roar of pure fury. He unsheathed a sword of violet light and, in a single, blinding stroke,turned shadow creature into ash and blood.
He knelt beside me, pulling me into his lap. My vision was fraying at the edges, turning grey. Above us, the sky began to tear like wet paper. Hundreds—thousands—of those shadow figures began to pour through the rift.
"Shit," he cursed, his grip tightening on me as stared at the sky in horror.
I fell unconscious before I could hear another word.