She walked the hall with quiet, measured steps, her black boots barely whispering against the polished tile. The world moved around her in chaotic waves—students jostling past, laughter and shouting bouncing off lockers that slammed shut with metallic echoes. It was the kind of noise that made everything seem normal. Loud. Messy. Alive.
But not for her.
Nova kept her head down, a single hand loosely curled around the strap of her worn-out backpack. Her other hand drifted instinctively to the cool, weighty stone resting at her chest. It hung just below her collarbone—obsidian black, with shifting veins of violet threading through its surface like cracks in dark glass.
It pulsed.
Once. Soft, but undeniable.
"He noticed you."
The voice unfurled inside her skull like silk over razors. Velvet and glass. Gentle. But sharp enough to draw blood.
Nova didn't answer. Not out loud. She never did anymore.
Instead, she slipped quietly into the nearest bathroom. Her fingers caught the edge of the stall door, yanking it shut with a soft click as she turned the lock. Then she sat down, resting on the closed lid of the toilet, her hood pulled up to shadow her face from the flickering fluorescent lights above.
"You said this would help me blend in," she whispered, her voice thin and flat. Tired.
"It is helping," the voice replied smoothly. "You're inside. Close to him. To the others. This is where we need to be."
Her hand curled into a tight fist, nails biting into her palm.
"That boy—Kite. He has the Nexus Stone. The real one."
"I know."
Her voice cracked slightly. "And he's... normal. Sort of. He laughs. He has friends. He's not—" she hesitated, hating the weight of the next words, "—he's not like me."
"Not yet."
The stone pulsed again. Not as a comfort. As a reminder.
It always did that when she spoke too much.
Her teeth clenched as frustration boiled in her gut. "He doesn't understand what it costs to carry this kind of power. You and I—we weren't chosen by chance. We were chosen by need."
Reaching into her bag, Nova pulled out a small, well-worn notepad. She flipped through its pages slowly, letting her fingers brush the sketches. Rooftops drawn in sharp ink. Hooded figures, half-shadow. A girl that looked far too much like her—glowing purple eyes beneath a cracked mask, one that split like shattered glass.
"I'm not going to hurt them," she said, quieter now, almost to herself. She turned a page.
"You say that like it's up to you."
Snap.
She shut the notepad hard enough to make her wrist sting.
Silence stretched across the bathroom, thick and humming. Only the dim buzz of the overhead lights dared break it.
Eventually, Nova stood. She adjusted her hood, pulling it tighter around her face, and stepped out of the stall.
Her reflection stared back at her from the cracked mirror. Pale. Exhausted. But her eyes—her eyes were steady.
She leaned in closer, nearly nose to nose with herself.
"He's going to ask questions," she murmured, watching the shape of her lips move in the glass. "And when he does... I need to lie."
"Then lie beautifully."
She didn't flinch at the voice this time. Just nodded slightly to herself.
Then she turned and walked out, disappearing back into the storm of the school hallway, her gaze forward, her jaw set. Beneath her skin, something dangerous and electric stirred. But she held it in check.
No one could see the storm. Not yet.
---
The bell rang, loud and shrill, cutting through the halls like a blade. Students groaned and dragged themselves toward the auditorium for the morning assembly. They filtered in—cliques and loners, whispers and laughter, the usual chaos of a teenage crowd being herded into uncomfortable chairs.
Kite slid into the back row, slouching hard enough to almost vanish behind the heads in front of him. Up on the stage, Principal Johnson gripped the podium like it might float away, droning into the mic about test schedules, emergency exits, and Spirit Week themes like his voice could sedate concrete.
The chairs creaked under the weight of restless bodies. Students fidgeted. Whispered. Slept with their eyes open.
Kite tuned out somewhere between "midterm survey" and "respecting hallway traffic patterns."
His chest felt tight again. Not from boredom—something else. A pressure. A hum under his skin.
The power. It was awake. Watching.
Without thinking, he stood. Muttered something about a nosebleed to the nearest teacher, who barely blinked, and slipped through the auditorium doors unnoticed.
The hallway outside was a different world—dim, quiet, calm. The faint buzz of the lights overhead was almost soothing. Kite made a beeline to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed water on his face. He stared at his reflection.
His eyes.
Still faintly glowing.
Like a pilot light that never went out.
He exhaled slowly. "Cool it," he muttered, drying his face on the sleeve of his hoodie. "It's just an assembly. Not the end of the world."
But the feeling didn't fade.
If anything, it got stronger. Sharper. Like something was pulling on the edges of his awareness. Then with a deep breath to calm his nerves he slowly stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway.
And froze.
At the far end of the hallway, by the dusty trophy cases, someone was standing still.
Nova.
She didn't move. Didn't blink. Her gaze was locked onto his like she'd been waiting there all morning.
The hallway suddenly felt too big. Too empty.
Kite straightened. "Hey," he called, trying to sound casual but landing closer to cautious. "You ditch the pep talk too?"
She didn't answer immediately. Her expression didn't change.
Then, softly: "You glow when you're nervous."
He blinked. "I—what?"
Nova stepped closer. Not fast. Not slow. Just deliberate. Controlled.
"I saw it in class," she said. "And when you were walking back to your seat. It's subtle, but it's there."
Her voice was quiet. Almost apologetic.
"That kind of glow doesn't come from stress. It comes from resonance."
Kite felt something jolt behind his ribs.
"…Resonance with what?"
Her eyes flickered—just for a second. And in them, Kite saw a shadow of something ancient. Not angry. Not evil.
But broken.
"Something old," she said. "And loud."
His hand twitched near his chest, the Nexus Stone warm beneath his shirt. Instinct. Like it knew her presence before he did.
"You're not... normal, are you?"
Nova looked away, her voice nearly a whisper. "No."
Then, after a breath:
"Neither are you."
She stepped closer again. Now only a few steps separated them.
"I didn't come here to fight you, Kite," she said. Her voice was steady, but he could feel the weight behind it. "I don't want to hurt anyone. But something's wrong with my stone. I didn't ask for it—it found me. And ever since... I've been sharing my head with someone else."
Kite's throat went dry. He could feel it now—her presence brushing against the edges of his own power. Like static. Like magnets.
"Is it talking to you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Nova nodded. "She says you're important. That you're the original spark."
Kite's voice was barely audible. "She?"
Her fingers brushed the black stone at her chest. "She calls herself Veyra. I think... She used to be a Paladin. A long time ago. Before something corrupted her."
He took a step forward, his voice low but urgent. "Nova. If your stone's broken, if something's wrong—we can help. I can talk to Ai. I can—"
Pain rippled across her face. Her mask slipped, just for a second, revealing something raw.
"It's not that simple," she said. "The stone doesn't just talk. Sometimes she takes over. I lose time. I forget things. I woke up three towns over last week and I don't even remember leaving my house."
She looked up, and this time there was no armor in her voice.
"I don't want to be the enemy."
Kite stared at her. A dozen thoughts fought for control behind his eyes.
Then, finally—quiet. Steady.
"You're not."
From somewhere deep in the building, the sound of applause and cheers rolled out, muffled and distant.
Kite didn't look back.
Right now, all he could see was Nova.
And the fracture line running through the world behind her eyes.
Nova's eyes shimmered like mercury catching the light. She looked so human a second ago—vulnerable, scared, real.
Now Kite saw the shift.
It started subtle: her posture straightened too perfectly, shoulders squared like a soldier bracing for battle. Her pupils narrowed to sharp slits, and a faint dark mist—like ink bleeding into water—spilled from the edges of her stone.
"Nova?" Kite asked, heart thudding.
She didn't answer.
Instead, her voice dropped into something deeper, older, and far too calm.
"She's resting now."
Kite took a step back, instinct flaring.
The girl in front of him raised her chin, studying him like a hawk sizing up prey. "You must be the one with the Nexus core. The unstable spark. I could feel you pulsing through her bones."
Kite's hands curled into fists, his instincts whispering Run. Defend. Transform.
"Veyra," he said carefully. "You're the one inside her."
"I am her," Veyra corrected, eyes glowing violet now. "What remains, anyway."
And then—
CRACK!
The tiles under Kite's feet split as a shockwave erupted from Veyra. She hadn't moved, hadn't flinched—but power rolled off her like a thunderclap in slow motion. The air stung with static.
Kite threw himself sideways just in time as a bolt of black energy lanced through the spot where he'd been standing. It sizzled against the wall, burning deep into the concrete.
"Okay, so talking's off the table," Kite muttered, skidding across the floor and planting a hand down to stop himself.
He felt the Nexus Stone awaken instantly, the pulse of it thrumming up his spine.
His voice sharpened. "You don't want to hurt me? You're doing a pretty bad job of proving it!"
Veyra tilted her head, expression almost amused. "I do want to hurt you. Just not fatally."
She launched again.
This time, Kite met her mid-air—energy exploding from his palms in a wide arc. The force threw them both back, sparks raining through the hallway. Lockers buckled from the impact.
No! No! No! This can't be happening here! In school of all places!
Kite's mind raced with possibilities as he landed in a crouch, breath heaving. "Nova—if you're still in there—fight her!"
Veyra's laughter echoed with a hollow, fractured quality. "She's watching. She's terrified. But she'll thank me later. You don't understand what you are. What you're carrying. That stone on your chest is the root of all of this."
Another surge—this one faster.
Kite barely dodged as a clawed streak of corrupted light slashed past his shoulder, leaving burning pain in its wake.
He skidded again, fingers brushing against a locker as he steadied himself. "Then explain it to me!"
But Veyra wasn't talking anymore.
She vanished in a blink—and reappeared in front of him, arm cocked back.
He crossed his forearms just in time, the impact sending him slamming into the wall hard enough to crack it.
Pain lanced through his side.
Still, he grinned. "Okay. Definitely a level two kind of day."
He charged her with a pulse of raw force, sending both of them tumbling into the stairwell, shattering glass and steel.
And behind it all, buried under the storm—he thought he heard Nova's voice.
Kite... help me.