The trees swayed gently in the morning breeze, the sun still low enough that the sky looked like it hadn't made up its mind yet—half gold, half sleepy blue. Somewhere in the distance, the hum of the town was starting to wake up, but here, near the woods behind Blackstone High, it was still quiet. Still theirs.
Kite stood in the clearing, hands at his sides, face set in concentration.
"You're sure we're not gonna blow up a raccoon or something?" William asked, leaning on a crooked tree branch like it was a walking stick.
"No raccoons," Kite said, eyeing a chunk of rusted metal he'd dragged into the clearing earlier. "Just this old car hood. Don't flinch."
"I'm absolutely going to flinch."
Kite rolled his shoulders, exhaled, and focused. The familiar pressure built behind his ribs—like a live wire thrumming just beneath his skin.
Then—
FWSSH!
A sharp burst of blue-white energy lanced from his palm and slammed into the metal with a clang, leaving a glowing scorch mark in its center. Steam hissed into the cool air.
William let out a low whistle. "Okay, yeah, still flinching. But also... very cool."
Kite flexed his fingers, watching the faint glow fade from his hand. "It's getting easier. Like muscle memory—but electric."
"Guess Ai wasn't kidding about the 'potential' stuff," William said. "So what is this—level two Pulsar Knight now?"
Kite smirked. "More like one-point-five. I still can't suit up unless something triggers it. I think, 'cause yesterday in my room I tried suiting up but, nothing, and on the trip I was doing it just fine."
William scratched his chin. "Maybe it knows somethings gonna happen so it automatically activates. So like, bad grades? Pop quizzes? School dances? I can work with that."
"I swear, if you make me blow something up in gym class just to unlock a transformation, I'm quitting."
"Just brainstorming, dude."
Kite turned slightly, crouching before leaping into the air. He didn't fly—but he did land fifteen feet away with surprising ease, kicking up leaves.
"Nice," William said. "Weirdly graceful for someone who still trips on air."
Kite brushed off his knees. "This stuff feels... unstable. Like I'm borrowing it, but it's like there's more locked behind a door I can't open yet."
William nodded, serious now. "You'll get there. You're already doing insane stuff, and it hasn't even been a week. I mean—" He gestured at the melted car hood. "That's superhero material, my guy."
Kite looked at the blackened metal, lips pressing into a thin line. "It's also dangerous."
William tilted his head. "Yeah. That too."
A few seconds of quiet passed between them—just the wind rustling through the trees and birds chirping overhead. Then William spoke again, gentler this time.
"You scared?"
Kite hesitated. Then: "A little. It's not the power, though. It's what comes with it. Ai said I'm not the first Paladin. That there were others. That something's coming."
William nodded. "Well, if it does... it better come with insurance. Because we've got homemade armor and attitude over here."
Kite grinned. "You're the worst sidekick."
"I prefer 'co-conspirator.' Sounds more fun."
They shared a look—half amusement, half unspoken understanding. Then Kite stretched his arms and shook off the tension.
"Alright," he said, "we should probably not look like we've been testing alien tech before first period."
William glanced at his watch. "Ten minutes till the warning bell. Think we can make it without accidentally blowing up the vending machines?"
"No promises."
The two of them started back toward the edge of the forest, the rising sun casting long shadows behind them.
———
The lights buzzed softly overhead, and the smell of dry-erase markers and someone's aggressively cinnamon-y granola bar lingered in the air like ghosts of bad breakfasts past.
Kite slid into his usual seat beside Ava, still faintly smelling like outdoors and low-voltage ozone. He hoped no one noticed.
Ava looked up from her planner, raising an eyebrow. "You've got leaves in your hair."
"Decorative choice," Kite muttered, brushing them off. "Bringing nature indoors. I'm like a human diorama."
Ava shook her head, but her lips twitched. "Well, it's bold."
On his other side, Julian was already two tabs deep into a spreadsheet that definitely had nothing to do with homework.
"Let me guess," Julian said without looking up, "you and William were out doing your weird sunrise forest jog again."
"Close," Kite said. "We were bonding with nature. And also possibly inventing accidental energy weapons."
Julian finally looked over, deadpan. "Cool. So when the FBI shows up, should I say I barely knew you or that I warned you both repeatedly?"
"Do the dramatic slow-mo 'nooo' while I'm dragged away," Kite said. "Add tears. Maybe win an Emmy."
William dropped into his seat behind them, tossing a crumpled juice box into the trash from a ridiculous angle. "And I'll do the background soundtrack. Some light piano. Possibly tragic violin."
"You guys are unhinged," Ava murmured, flipping a page in her notebook.
"Don't act like you don't love it," Kite said.
Ava rolled her eyes. "I tolerate it. With style."
Kite grinned, about to reply—when the door opened.
And in walked her.
The girl from yesterday. The one with the moving truck. The one with the sketchbook. And around her neck, nestled just beneath the edge of her black jacket, Kite spotted it again:
That same black and purple stone.
It caught the light just enough to glint—a sharp, glassy shimmer like a piece of the night sky trapped in crystal.
Kite blinked, momentarily forgetting how to think.
Julian elbowed him. "Do you know her?"
"I—sort of," Kite said, eyes locked. "She moved in near me."
William followed his gaze. "She's cute," he said in a low voice, then squinted. "Wait. Is that—?"
"I think so," Kite said under his breath.
Ava noticed the shift. "What am I missing?"
Before Kite could answer, their homeroom teacher, Mr. Carson stood from his desk, clapping his hands once.
"Alright, people, attention. We've got a new student joining us this morning. Please give a warm Blackstone welcome to—"
The girl stepped forward, eyes steady but calm. "Nova Sinclair."
Kite's stomach did a little somersault.
Nova scanned the room like she was taking notes no one else could see. Her gaze brushed over Julian, flicked briefly to William, paused slightly on Ava—and then landed on Kite.
Their eyes met.
And Kite swore, just for a second, that the stone around her neck pulsed.
Not glowed.
Not sparkled.
Pulsed.
Like it had a heartbeat.
Mr. Carson gestured to the empty seat one row over from Kite. "There's a spot right there, Nova. Go ahead and sit. I'm sure someone will help you get caught up."
Nova moved through the rows with quiet confidence and sat down, setting her backpack on the floor and tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The stone rested against her collarbone, still and silent now.
Kite felt Ava lean toward him slightly. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
He shook his head, dazed. "No... I think I just saw the sequel."
Julian raised a brow. "What does that even mean?"
"It means," William muttered, "today's about to get very interesting."
Kite stayed quiet, sneaking another glance at Nova.
And the stone. Whatever it was…it felt similar to Nexus and Eclipse, but distorted.
As the bell for first period rang, Julian got up.
"Have fun with astrology, catch you guys at lunch."
He said as he and a few other students who didn't take astrology left for their classes.
Mr. Carson droned on about announcements and schedule changes, something about an assembly and new security measures near the west wing—stuff no one really listened to, especially not now.
Kite's brain was spinning like a loaded washing machine.
Nova Sinclair.
The stone.
The pulse.
He kept sneaking glances her way, but she didn't seem to notice—or if she did, she was a pro at ignoring it. She sat with her spine straight, hands folded neatly on her desk, one foot tapping lightly under her chair like she was keeping tempo with something only she could hear.
And that stone.
It looked like it belonged to her.
Like it had always belonged to her.
Kite felt his fingers twitch under the desk, an unconscious spark of static dancing across his skin before fading. He clenched his fists and exhaled.
Focus.
Act normal.
Just as he was trying to tear his thoughts back to Mr. Carson's monotone explanation of constellations, Nova did something unexpected.
She turned her head, just slightly, and spoke.
Her voice was low, meant only for him.
"You're not very subtle, you know."
Kite blinked. "Wha—?"
Nova didn't look at him directly. "The staring. You've been doing it since I walked in."
"I—uh. Right. Sorry," he whispered back, flustered. "Just... thought you looked familiar."
"I should hope so," she said. "We saw each other yesterday. You were on your porch, remember?"
"Yeah, no, I remember that. It's just—" Kite hesitated. "It's more... the thing you're wearing."
She paused, just for a second.
Then slowly reached up and brushed her fingers across the black-and-purple stone. "What about it?"
"It's like mine," he said, quietly. "Not the same, but close."
Now she turned, her eyes locking with his. There was no panic, no shock—just curiosity. And a slight narrowing of her gaze.
"You've seen something like this before?"
Kite nodded. "Yeah. I have one. Different colour. Mine's blue. Glows when I use it."
Nova tilted her head. "Use it for what?"
Kite hesitated. "You know. Energy blasts. Levitating old car hoods. The usual."
She didn't laugh. Didn't call him crazy. Instead, she studied him—like she was weighing something. Calculating.
"Where did you get yours?" she asked.
Kite frowned. "It just... found me, I guess. Long story. How about you?"
Nova looked forward again, her fingers now lightly resting on the stone. "Mine? I found it on a family trip…or rather it found me too…"
Kite leaned a little closer, dropping his voice further. "Do you know what it is?"
Another pause. "I have some ideas."
"Well, maybe we can compare notes," Kite said, trying to go back to his usual joking demeanour but it failed miserably. "After school?"
Nova glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "Maybe."
Then she smiled—just barely.
It wasn't a warm smile.
It was sharp. Calculated. Like a chess move.
And somehow... it made Kite's heart kick into gear.
"Mr. Connors," Mr. Carson's voice rang out from the front of the room, "since you seem so engaged this morning, maybe you'd like to read the bulletin notes aloud?"
Kite flinched. "Uh—sure. Yep. Love bulletins."
As he stood, William leaned forward with a grin and whispered, "Smooth, Romeo. Real stealthy."
"Shut up," Kite muttered, clutching the paper like it might catch fire.
Nova didn't look at him again for the rest of class. But her fingers never left the stone.