Sophia wanted peace. Simplicity. The city she’d helped heal. The academy bloomed with students who looked up to her like she was unshakable.
She didn’t want to be the center of something ancient. Something inevitable.
So she buried the dreams again.
Ignored the voices.
Lied to Remi.
And every time the surge built under her skin, she found ways to bleed it off—training late into the night, sparring until her muscles screamed, meditating until her legs went numb.
It worked… at first.
Until she started seeing her.
The Watcher.
Never in full view.
Just glimpses—shadowed figures in alleys, reflections in water, a tall silhouette lingering just outside the academy grounds.
She tried to dismiss it.
Tried to rationalize it as paranoia.
But the feeling that someone was tracking her pow
