The growth, previously a slow and steady accretion measured in cautious centimeters, became a thing of the night. A silent, secret explosion that happened while the world slept.
Astraea went to bed on Sunday night feeling the familiar aches in her long bones—the deep, marrow-deep throb of rapid expansion. She measured herself before brushing her teeth: 141.2 centimeters. She noted it in the hidden log she kept, a column of numbers that told the story of her un-freezing.
She slept the thick, exhausted sleep of the perpetually hungry and metabolically overwhelmed. Her dreams were chaotic—memories of flight tangled with sensations of falling, the taste of cold stone, the scent of ozone from the gates.
She woke to the first grey light of Monday morning with a strange, full-body sensation. Not pain, but a profound awareness. As if every cell had been stretched and then settled into new, slightly larger configurations. She sat up, and the blanket slid off her shoulders differently. Her pajama sleeves ended higher on her wrists.
She didn't need to measure. She knew.
Padding to the wall where her height marks were hidden behind a poster, she pulled it aside. The newest pencil line, from last night, was now a full two centimeters below the top of her head. She took the ruler, placed it flat, and made a new mark.
143.4 centimeters.
Two point two centimeters. In one night.
Two centimeters. In human terms, a growth spurt of several months, compressed into hours. Her body was making up for lost time with violent enthusiasm.
The implications crashed down. Her clothes. The pajamas were already snug, the cuffs riding up. The school uniform hanging in her closet... it would be too short. The sleeves, the pants. Everything.
She dressed slowly, pulling on the CYAP uniform—a simple polo shirt and navy pants. The shirt strained across her shoulders, the fabric tight. The pants ended a good inch above her ankles. She looked like a child who'd outgrown her clothes overnight. Because she had.
Mrs. Evans' reaction at breakfast was a symphony of double-takes. She stared over her coffee mug, her eyes widening. "Astraea... you look... taller."
"I feel taller," Astraea said, which was true. The world felt slightly smaller, perspectives subtly shifted.
"But... yesterday..." Mrs. Evans got up, came around the table, and stood beside her. She placed a hand on Astraea's head, comparing it to her own shoulder. "You were here yesterday. Now you're... here." Her finger marked a spot noticeably higher. "That's impossible."
"Maybe the measuring tape was wrong yesterday?" Astraea offered weakly.
Mrs. Evans wasn't buying it. The concern from the night before returned, sharper now, mixed with bewilderment. "We need new clothes. Today. After CYAP, we're going shopping."
Shopping meant mirrors. Changing rooms. More scrutiny.
At CYAP, the reaction was immediate and loud. Children notice changes in their peers with brutal clarity.
"Whoa, Raea! You're huge!" Chloe announced as Astraea walked into the Sparkle Room.
"Did you get taller on the weekend?" asked Ben, squinting at her.
Teacher Milly's cheerful greeting died on her lips. Her professional smile faltered as she took in the too-short pants, the tight shirt. "My goodness, Astraea! Did you have a growth spurt?"
"Something like that," Astraea murmured, wanting to shrink back into her old size.
Leo said nothing. He just looked at her, then at his notebook, where Astraea knew he kept a log of her height based on visual comparisons. He made a quick notation, his brow furrowed in scientific fascination rather than alarm.
The morning activities were awkward. During "Sparkle Stretching," her limbs felt unfamiliar, her reach longer. She had to consciously adjust her movements to not seem clumsy. During craft time, her hands, slightly larger, fumbled with the small beads.
Mia was the only one who didn't comment on her height. Instead, she sidled up during juice break and whispered, "Your plants... they grew too. Overnight." She pointed to the small pot of moonflowers on the windowsill, part of Mia's "garden corner." The tendrils, which had been lazily climbing a small stake, had shot up several inches, curling eagerly toward where Astraea had been sitting. Their buds were plumper, shimmering with a faint silver dew.
Her passive dragon aura, strengthened by her own growth, was accelerating the life around her. Another clue. Another trail.
That afternoon, Mrs. Evans was true to her word. They went to a children's clothing store. Astraea stood on the measuring platform, enduring the clerk's chirpy comments. "My, you're tall for your age! What are they feeding you?"
The numbers came back. Height: 144 cm (the morning's growth had continued, albeit slower). Recommended size: 12-14 years. Astraea's recorded age was 10.
Mrs. Evans bought the clothes—new pants, shirts, a dress, pajamas—with a quiet, worried efficiency. In the car on the way home, she finally voiced the fear. "Astraea, this isn't just fast growth. This is... medical. We need to see someone."
"I feel fine," Astraea insisted, which was a lie. She felt strange in her new skin, powerful and uncoordinated, hungry and full of aching potential. "Stronger. Healthier."
"People don't grow two inches in a day when they're healthy," Mrs. Evans said softly, her hands tight on the steering wheel. "They just don't."
That night, Astraea lay awake, fearing sleep. She knew her body would use the quiet hours to rebuild, to expand. She fought it, staring at the ceiling, but dragon biology was not subject to human will. Exhaustion from the day's metabolic frenzy pulled her under.
She woke Tuesday morning with the same stretched-cell sensation. She didn't need to measure. The new pajamas Mrs. Evans had bought just yesterday were already snug. She went to the wall.
145.8 centimeters.
Another 1.4 centimeters. Overnight.
It was a pattern now. A relentless, visible pattern. She dressed in her new clothes from yesterday, which already fit perfectly, no longer loose. How long until these were too small? Two days? Three?
At CYAP, the whispers had started. The children weren't just noticing; they were talking. "She's like a beanstalk." "My brother grew fast, but not that fast." Teacher Milly's smiles were increasingly strained, her eyes frequently darting to Astraea with a mix of wonder and unease.
Counselor Davis stopped by for an "informal chat" during recess. He knelt to her new eye level, his professional warmth not quite reaching his eyes. "Astraea, we're all so thrilled to see you thriving! Such amazing growth! The Association's health monitor did flag your file for a... rapid development review. Just routine! We might have a special doctor come take a look, make sure everything's tickety-boo!"
Tickety-boo. The childish phrase felt like a threat.
Leo found her hiding in the book nook after Davis left. He sat beside her, his small frame now noticeably smaller than hers. He didn't speak for a moment, just looked at his green finger, glowing softly.
"It's exponential, isn't it?" he said finally, his voice low. "The growth. Not linear. Each night's gain is a percentage of your current height."
Astraea nodded, impressed and terrified by his mind. "It feels... like a spring uncoiling. All at once."
"They're going to figure it out," he stated, not unkindly. "You can't hide something that leaves a daily physical record. The clothes, the measurements... it's a data trail."
"I know."
"You need a story. A better one." He tapped his chin. "A rare Awakened growth syndrome. Something documented but obscure. I can... research. Find something plausible. Grandpa has medical journals."
He was offering to build her another alibi, this one more complex, more permanent. To weave a medical narrative around her cosmic biology. The gratitude she felt was so immense it hurt.
"Why?" she asked, the ancient dragon bewildered by the loyalty of this small, brilliant human. "Why are you doing this?"
Leo looked at her, his young-old eyes serious. "Because you're the most real thing I've ever met. And I want to see what happens next."
[System notification!]
[Achievement unlocked: 'Rapid riser!']
[You grew more than 3 cm in two days! That's a new record!]
[Reward: 'Growing pain' Title, +10 to Height stat]
[Warning: Growing too fast can be ouchy! Remember to stretch!]
The System, as always, was miles behind and missing the point by a league. But for once, its oblivious cheer didn't grate. It was just background noise to the real, urgent problem unfolding in her very bones.
That night, she didn't fight sleep. She let it take her, and as she drifted off, she felt the familiar ache begin in her shins, her spine, her skull. The silent, relentless work of becoming.
The pencil marks on the wall were spreading upward like a rising tide. Her body was a clock, ticking loudly with each new centimeter, and everyone was starting to hear it.