Power & Consequence
1432 Words
Mira barely slept. When morning light finally spilled through her curtains, it felt like it was exposing all the secrets she had spent the night trying to bury. Her limbs felt heavy, like she had run miles, and the strange electricity under her skin had faded to a faint, restless thrum.
For a few seconds, as she blinked groggily at the ceiling, she wondered if everything had been a nightmare, the bed lifting, the pencil hovering, the humming at midnight.
Then she saw the lamp still lying on its side.
No nightmare.
Reality.
She pushed herself upright and rubbed her forehead. Her head felt… crowded. That was the only word for it. Like her thoughts were running too fast, and her emotions were trying to catch up.
Her phone chimed with another news alert.
She ignored it. She wasn’t sure she could handle seeing another headline.
By the time she grabbed her bag for school and stepped into the living room, her mum was already dressed for work, wearing one of her crisp, pale-blue shirts and sipping tea at the dining table.
“Mira,” her mother said softly. “You look tired. Did you sleep at all?”
Mira forced a shrug. “Not really. Headache.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed with concern. “Are you falling sick?”
“No. I’m fine.”
She lied too quickly. Her mother noticed, but didn’t push.
“Mira,” she said again, quieter now, “if anything is bothering you… anything at all… You can tell me.”
Mira hesitated. For a second, she almost confessed everything, the bed, the pencil, the humming, the silver veins. But the words got stuck in her throat. What was she supposed to say?
Mum, I think I borrowed a dead girl’s supernatural ability.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said.
Her mother studied her for a long moment, then nodded, though she didn’t look convinced.
“Eat something before you leave.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Mira.”
She sighed and bit into a slice of bread just to end the conversation.
School was its usual chaotic self. Students shouting across corridors. Bags dropping. Teachers are calling people back. Someone’s speaker is blasting Ayra Starr from inside a locker. Normally, Mira found comfort in the familiar noise. Today, it grated on her ears.
Everyone felt too close. Too loud. Too bright.
Zara spotted her almost instantly. With her gold braids bouncing and her energy at maximum volume, Zara practically tackled her in a hug.
“Babe! Where were you last night? I called you twice!”
“I slept early,” Mira lied. Again.
Zara pulled back and squinted at her face. “You look like someone who watched horror movies till 3 a.m.”
“I wish that was the reason.”
Zara opened her mouth to ask more questions, but the warning bell rang. Students flooded toward their classrooms.
Mira moved with them, but something prickled at the back of her neck—
a presence.
A gaze.
She slowed, turning slightly.
At the far end of the hallway stood three students she had never really noticed before. A boy and two girls. Their uniforms were scruffy, their expressions unreadable. They weren’t talking, not even to each other. They were just… staring at her.
No, not staring.
Studying.
She looked away quickly, pulse jumping.
She wanted to brush it off as paranoia, but the unease settled into her stomach like a stone.
By break time, she was sure something was wrong.
It started during Social Studies. As the teacher droned on, Mira glanced toward the window and saw the same trio from earlier standing outside, pretending to talk while sneaking glances into her classroom.
Then in the cafeteria. While Mira and Zara sat eating rice, the trio walked past their table, slowly, deliberately. The boy’s eyes dragged across Mira like a scanner.
Zara noticed this time.
“Who are those ones?” she asked, frowning. “Why are they looking at you like that?”
“I don’t know,” Mira whispered.
But she did know.
They knew something. Or suspected something.
The electricity under her skin flickered again, responding to her fear. She clenched her hands under the table to steady herself.
Don’t move anything.
Don’t float anything.
Please don’t embarrass me in public.
Zara snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Earth to Mira. Why are you acting weird today?”
“I’m not.” Mira stopped because she realized she was lying again, and she was exhausted from it.
“I’m fine,” she finished anyway.
Zara didn’t believe her. But before she could press further, someone’s water bottle rolled off a nearby table, and Mira flinched so hard she practically jumped out of her seat.
Zara blinked. “Okay, what is going on with you?”
Mira didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
After school, Zara had choir practice. Mira was grateful; she needed to be alone.
She walked toward the school gate, ready to speed-walk home and lock herself in her room, when a voice said:
“You shouldn’t walk alone.”
She spun.
The boy from the trio stood a few meters away, hands in his pockets. Up close, he looked older than she expected, maybe seventeen with sharp features and eyes that watched everything at once.
Mira stepped back instinctively. “Do I know you?”
“No,” he said plainly. “But we know you.”
Her blood turned to ice.
The two girls from his group appeared behind him, flanking him silently like shadows.
Mira’s throat tightened. “What do you want?”
“To talk,” the boy said.
“No thanks.”
She turned to walk away, but the boy stepped in front of her, blocking the path.
“You woke at midnight, didn’t you?”
Mira froze.
Her heart stopped.
He leaned slightly closer. “You felt a surge. A power. Your room reacted. Maybe objects moved. Maybe light flickered.”
She stumbled backward. “Get away from me.”
“We’re not here to hurt you,” he said calmly. “We’re trying to protect you.”
One of the girls, taller and wearing tiny silver hoops, crossed her arms. “You think you’re the first one this has happened to?”
Mira’s mouth went dry. “What… are you talking about?”
“The Borrowing,” the girl said.
The world tilted.
She must have misheard. Borrowing? That was her own private nightmare term. How could they know?
The boy continued, voice steady. “When someone gifted dies, their ability is transferred to a borrower. Someone marked. Someone chosen.”
“I’m not chosen,” Mira whispered. “I’m not anything.”
“You are,” the second girl said. Her eyes were soft, almost pitying. “We saw the silver trace on your neck this morning.”
Mira’s hand flew to her throat. She hadn’t noticed anything in the mirror. But these strangers had.
The boy glanced around. “We need to keep moving. People are watching.”
“Why are you following me?” Mira demanded, voice trembling.
“Because Borrowers die,” the boy said simply. “All of them. The power overloads their system and kills them within days.”
Her knees went weak.
No.
No, no, no, no
“But you…” The boy studied her face, “You survived your first Borrowing. That means one of two things.”
He stepped closer.
“Either you’re the most dangerous Borrower we’ve seen…”
Mira’s breath hitched.
“Or,” he said, voice dropping,
“You’re the last one.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“You don’t have to,” the tall girl said. “Just come with us. Before midnight comes again.”
Mira’s heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
“No,” she said. “I’m going home.”
“You can’t outrun this,” the boy warned. “Tonight it will happen again. And someone else will die.”
Mira felt the world closing in around her.
The boy extended his hand. “Let us help you.”
Mira turned and bolted.
She didn’t stop when they called her name.
She didn’t stop when she reached the gate.
She didn’t stop until she was halfway down the street, lungs burning, vision blurry.
She didn’t know who they were.
She didn’t know what they wanted.
But one thing echoed through her mind like a scream:
Borrowers die.
And midnight was coming.
- Writer
