Chapter Eight
1517 Words
— Dr. Hale
Dani Vale is trembling.
Not visibly — not anymore — but I can feel it. Her energy is vibrating beneath her skin like a plucked wire, unstable and too bright. The air around her still hums with the residue of whatever she just projected.
A wolf in the fire.
Not a hallucination.
Not a trick of the light.
A shared illusion.
Alana saw it.
Dani saw it.
And for a split second… I thought I did too.
That alone is enough to make my pulse quicken.
But I keep my expression calm. Controlled. She doesn’t need my fear. She needs my steadiness.
“Dani,” I say gently, “take a breath.”
She tries. It shudders out of her like it hurts.
Alaric stands behind her, tense as a bowstring. His eyes haven’t left her since the moment the flames shifted. He’s trying to hide it, but I’ve known him since he was a boy — I can read the fear in his shoulders, the way he’s holding himself too still.
Alana is curled on the couch, knees to her chest, pale and shaken. She keeps glancing at the fireplace like she expects the wolf to reappear.
I kneel in front of Dani.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes lift, wide and frightened.
Good. She’s present. She’s here.
“Whatever just happened,” I say softly, “it wasn’t phasing.”
Alaric’s jaw tightens. “Then what was it?”
I don’t answer him. Not yet. Not until I’m sure.
Instead, I focus on Dani.
“Tell me what you felt right before the fire changed.”
She swallows. “I… I don’t know. Everything. Too much. It was like—like something inside me snapped.”
Emotion-triggered. Again.
But this wasn’t a disappearance.
This was manifestation.
I keep my voice steady. “And what did you see?”
“A wolf,” she whispers. “In the flames. It looked alive.”
Alana shivers. “I saw it too.”
Alaric’s eyes flick to me, sharp. “Hale.”
I raise a hand. “I know.”
But I don’t. Not fully. Not yet.
And that terrifies me more than I’ll ever admit.
I take Dani’s hands gently. Her energy pulses against my palms — too warm, too reactive, like it’s searching for an outlet.
“Dani,” I say carefully, “your emotions are interacting with your environment in ways I don’t fully understand.”
Her breath catches. “Is that bad?”
“It’s not bad,” I say. “It’s unknown.”
Alaric steps closer. “Unknown how?”
I meet his eyes. “I’ve seen phasing. I’ve seen emotional resonance. I’ve seen minor illusions. But this—” I glance at the fire “—this was something else.”
Alana whispers, “So what do we do?”
I stand slowly.
“We run more tests.”
Dani flinches. “Tests?”
“Nothing invasive,” I assure her. “But I need to understand the scope of your abilities. What triggers them. How far they reach. Whether they’re internal or external. Whether they respond to your emotions alone… or to others.”
Alaric stiffens at that.
Because he knows.
And I know.
And Dani knows.
Her emotions aren’t the only ones affecting her.
I continue, “Tonight, we’ll start with grounding. Tomorrow, we’ll move to controlled stimuli. Light. Sound. Emotional cues.”
Dani’s voice is small. “What if I hurt someone?”
“You won’t,” I say firmly. “Not while I’m here.”
Alaric steps forward, voice low. “And not while I’m here.”
Dani looks between us, terrified and overwhelmed.
I soften my tone. “Dani… whatever this is, it’s waking up fast. Faster than I expected. And we need to understand it before it grows stronger.”
She nods, barely.
Alana whispers, “Is she dangerous?”
The question hangs in the air.
Dani’s breath stutters.
Alaric’s eyes flash with warning.
I answer before either of them can.
“She’s untrained,” I say. “Not dangerous.”
Yet.
I don’t say the last word out loud.
Instead, I place a steadying hand on Dani’s shoulder.
“Let’s begin.”
---
— Dani
My hands are still shaking.
The fire is back to normal — just flames, just heat, just light — but I can’t unsee what it became. I can’t unhear Alana’s scream. I can’t unfeel the way the air changed when the wolf’s head pushed through the flames like it was alive.
I did that.
Or my emotions did.
I don’t know which is worse.
Dr. Hale kneels in front of me again, her expression calm in a way that makes me wonder if she’s faking it for my sake. Alaric stands behind her, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on me like he’s afraid to blink.
Alana sits curled on the couch, hugging her knees, still pale.
“Dani,” Dr. Hale says gently, “we’re going to try something simple. Nothing that should trigger anything. Just grounding.”
I swallow hard. “What if it does trigger something?”
“Then we stop,” she says. “And we adjust. But you won’t be alone.”
Her voice is steady. Warm. Safe.
I nod.
“Good,” she murmurs. “Sit comfortably. Back straight. Feet on the floor.”
I shift on the rug, trying to ignore how unsteady my legs feel.
“Now,” she continues, “place your hands on your thighs. Palms down.”
I do.
“Close your eyes.”
I hesitate.
Alaric’s voice comes from behind her — low, steady, grounding in a way that makes my chest tighten.
“You’re safe.”
I close my eyes.
“Good,” Dr. Hale says softly. “Now I want you to focus on your breath. Not deep breaths — just natural ones. In… and out.”
I try.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
My heartbeat is still too fast, but it’s not racing out of control anymore.
“Now,” she says, “I want you to name three things you can feel.”
I swallow. “The rug. Under my legs.”
“Good. Two more.”
“My hands. They’re warm.”
“Good. One more.”
I hesitate.
“I can feel… the air. It’s… buzzing.”
Dr. Hale pauses. “Buzzing how?”
“Like it’s… charged. Like it’s waiting.”
Alaric shifts behind her, but he doesn’t speak.
“Alright,” she says gently. “Now three things you can hear.”
“The fire,” I whisper. “Crackling.”
“Good.”
“Alana breathing.”
Alana lets out a shaky exhale, like she didn’t realize she was holding her breath.
“And… and your heartbeat.”
Dr. Hale’s voice softens. “Mine?”
“No.” I swallow. “Alaric’s.”
The room goes still.
I don’t open my eyes.
“Alright,” Dr. Hale says after a moment, her tone carefully neutral. “Now I want you to picture something solid. Something that can’t change or shift or blur. Something that feels safe.”
My mind goes blank.
Safe.
Solid.
Unmoving.
I don’t have many things like that.
But one image rises anyway — uninvited, unwanted, undeniable.
Alaric standing in front of me earlier, voice steady, eyes locked on mine, pulling me back from the blur.
I try to push it away.
It doesn’t move.
“Dani?” Dr. Hale prompts gently. “What do you see?”
I shake my head. “I… I don’t want to say.”
“It’s alright,” she says. “Whatever it is, it’s yours.”
I exhale shakily. “Alaric.”
Silence.
Then a soft inhale — his.
Dr. Hale doesn’t comment. “Good. Hold onto that image. Let it anchor you.”
I try.
But the moment I focus on him — really focus — something inside me shifts.
Not a blur.
Not a flicker.
Not a projection.
Just… warmth.
A steady, quiet warmth that spreads through my chest and down my arms, settling the buzzing under my skin.
My breath evens out.
My heartbeat slows.
The room stops tilting.
Dr. Hale’s voice is soft. “Dani… open your eyes.”
I do.
The fire is just fire.
The shadows are just shadows.
The air is still.
And for the first time since this started…
I feel solid.
Dr. Hale studies me closely. “How do you feel?”
I swallow. “Better. I think.”
Alaric steps closer, his voice low. “You stabilized.”
Dr. Hale nods. “She did.”
Alana lets out a shaky breath of relief.
But Dr. Hale’s eyes stay on me — thoughtful, searching, worried.
“Dani,” she says quietly, “that was a basic grounding exercise. And it worked. But your energy is… reactive. More than I expected.”
My stomach drops. “Reactive how?”
She hesitates.
Then says the words I was afraid of.
“We’re going to need more tests.”
---
- Writer
