Awakened fury

Truth that breaks

The words don’t shock me.

They don’t feel new.

They just… settle.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

“You’re not human.”

Silence fills the room.

Not the normal kind.

Not the quiet that feels peaceful.

This one presses in from all sides, thick and suffocating, like the air itself is waiting for me to react—waiting for me to deny it, to argue, to laugh it off like some ridiculous joke.

But I don’t.

Because after everything that’s happened—

The hallway.

The hunter.

That thing in the classroom—

I don’t have the energy to pretend anymore.

My chest rises slowly as I stare at Elisha.

She doesn’t look away.

Not even for a second.

“This again…” I mutter under my breath, more to myself than to her.

It’s not denial.

It’s not confusion.

It’s exhaustion.

Elisha studies me carefully, her eyes searching my face like she’s trying to see something deeper than what’s on the surface. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”

I don’t answer immediately.

Because she already knows.

Because I already know.

And saying it out loud just makes it… real.

I let out a quiet breath.

Of course I’ve felt it.

Every time the power rises before I even think.

Every time it reacts faster than I do, like it doesn’t need permission.

Every time it feels like something else is moving with me—

Or worse.

Before me.

I look away, my fingers tightening slightly at my sides. “I thought it was just… power.”

The words sound weak.

Even to me.

“It’s not,” she says.

“I know that now.”

That’s the problem.

I’m not confused anymore.

I’m not guessing.

I’m starting to understand.

And I don’t like what I’m understanding.

I look down at my hands.

They’re steady.

Perfectly still.

But I can still feel it.

That low hum beneath everything.

Quiet.

Patient.

Waiting.

Watching.

Like it knows I’m finally paying attention.

“What am I then?” I ask.

My voice is quiet.

Not panicked.

Not desperate.

Just… tired.

Elisha exhales slowly, like she’s choosing her words carefully. “Not like them. Not like anything we’ve seen.”

A dry laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “That’s not comforting.”

“It’s not supposed to be.”

Silence again.

But this time, it doesn’t stay still.

The air shifts.

Subtle.

Familiar.

I feel it before anything actually happens.

That same pressure—not crushing, not violent—just present.

Like something leaning closer.

Watching.

Waiting.

“I can feel it again,” I say, my voice dropping slightly.

Elisha’s eyes sharpen instantly. “Then don’t let it take over.”

“I’m not trying to!”

“Then try harder.”

Frustration flickers through me—quick, sharp, dangerous.

For a second, it rises too fast.

Too strong.

But I catch it.

I grab onto it and force it down before it can spread.

Before it can turn into something else.

That’s new.

“I’ve been holding it back,” I say, my voice tighter now. “Since the hallway. Since before that. But it’s getting stronger.”

She doesn’t respond.

Because she knows.

We both know.

This isn’t slowing down.

This isn’t going away.

Then—

“Arguing won’t change what she is.”

The voice cuts cleanly through the tension.

Calm.

Steady.

Certain.

My head turns instantly.

So does Elisha’s.

Nyra stands at the door.

No sound of it opening.

No footsteps.

No warning.

She’s just there.

Like she’s always been there.

Watching.

Waiting.

And the moment I see her—

It hits.

Stronger than before.

Not fear.

Not exactly.

Recognition.

Something deep inside me reacts instantly.

Sharp.

Alert.

Like it knows her.

Before I do.

“Elisha,” Nyra says, stepping into the room like she belongs here, “you’re delaying the inevitable.”

Elisha’s entire posture shifts, her body tensing slightly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should she.”

Nyra’s gaze lands on me.

And this time—

I don’t look away.

Because I already know.

Whatever she’s about to say…

I’m not ready for it.

But I need to hear it.

“You already feel it, don’t you?” Nyra says.

There’s no point lying.

Not anymore.

“Yes.”

The word leaves my mouth quietly, but it feels heavy, like it carries more than just an answer.

Nyra’s expression doesn’t change, but something in her eyes sharpens slightly.

“That means it’s already started.”

My chest tightens. “What has?”

A small pause.

Then—

“The change.”

Silence.

Not confusion.

Understanding.

Slow.

Unwanted.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “So say it.”

Nyra studies me for a moment, like she’s deciding how much I can handle.

Then she speaks.

“You’re not just different, Riley,” she says.

Her voice lowers slightly.

“You’re a bridge.”

The word lands harder than anything else.

It doesn’t echo.

It sinks.

Deep.

I don’t interrupt.

I don’t react.

I just listen.

Because something about it—

Feels right.

And I hate that.

“A bridge to what?” I ask, my voice quieter now.

Nyra takes a step closer.

The air shifts again.

Not violently.

But enough.

“Between this world… and something else.”

My heartbeat picks up.

Not fast.

Not panicked.

Just… heavier.

“And that’s why they’re coming,” she continues. “The hunters. The entities.”

My mind flashes back instantly.

The hallway.

The classroom.

The way that thing looked at me.

Not like prey.

Like it knew me.

“They’re not just after you,” Nyra says.

“They’re reacting to you.”

The words settle deep.

Too deep.

Because now—

Everything starts connecting.

The way my power responds before I do.

The way it feels like it has its own awareness.

The way something inside me feels… separate.

My breath catches slightly.

Elisha notices.

“So you’ve heard it too,” Nyra says quietly.

I freeze.

“You don’t even look surprised,” I say.

“I’m not.”

Something cold settles in my chest.

“What is it?” I ask.

Nyra doesn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she looks at Elisha.

A silent exchange passes between them.

Tense.

Uneasy.

Then she looks back at me.

“It’s not just your power,” she says.

“Then what is it?”

A pause.

Then—

“It’s what’s on the other side.”

Everything inside me goes still.

Because I know that feeling.

That presence.

That voice that doesn’t sound like mine.

That pushes.

That pulls.

That tells me to let go.

“No,” I say quietly, shaking my head. “That’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it?” Nyra asks.

I don’t answer.

Because I don’t have one.

Elisha steps forward slightly. “That doesn’t mean it controls her.”

Nyra glances at her. “Not yet.”

Not yet.

The words echo sharply in my head.

I clench my fists slightly. “I’m still in control.”

Even as I say it—

I’m not completely sure.

Nyra watches me carefully. “Then prove it.”

The air shifts again.

Stronger this time.

The pressure builds.

That familiar feeling rising—

Calling—

Waiting.

My heart starts beating faster.

Not from fear.

From effort.

Holding it back.

Keeping it down.

“You feel that?” Nyra says quietly. “That’s not just you.”

“I know,” I say through my teeth.

“Then stop it.”

I try.

I focus.

I push it down.

The energy flickers—

Strains—

Fights back—

But it doesn’t explode.

It stays contained.

Barely.

But it stays.

The room goes still again.

Nyra watches closely.

Then, slowly—

She nods.

“For now,” she says.

The words don’t feel like reassurance.

They feel like a warning.

She steps back slightly.

“This is bigger than you think,” she adds. “And it’s already in motion.”

My chest tightens. “What is?”

She pauses at the door.

Then looks back at me.

“What’s coming.”

And just like that—

She’s gone.

No sound.

No movement.

Just—

Gone.

Silence fills the room again.

But it’s different now.

Heavier.

Real.

I look at Elisha.

She’s already looking at me.

“What now?” I ask quietly.

She exhales slowly.

“Now?” she repeats.

A small pause.

“We figure out how to keep you from becoming the problem.”

I don’t respond.

Because for the first time—

I understand exactly what she means.

And that scares me more than anything else so far.