Location: Fenwick District — Highway 17 — Moving Vehicles — Night
Wilder stared at the screen.
His phone was still in his hand, the Livestream still playing. The rings. The wave. The explosion of light and heat and chaos. His jaw was tight, his knuckles white, his eyes fixed on the figure on the roof of the meat truck.
"Man," one of his friends said.
His voice was lazy, dismissive.
"Can you believe this stunt? Are all wannabe streamers this desperate?"
"Yeah," another added.
"Reminds me of that Azaqor drama four and a half months ago."
"This is nearly inconceivable."
"We're seeing yet another weird live stream."
"Just like the last."
A third friend noticed Wilder's expression.
"Hey, man," he said.
"Chill."
"You look like you're about to eat the screen or something."
Wilder didn't respond.
His thumb moved across the screen. He found Elijah's number. He pressed call.
---
Elijah's phone buzzed.
His hand moved to his pocket. His fingers found the device. His eyes were still fixed on the chaos outside, on the rings and the wave and the clash that was still unfolding.
"What now?" he muttered.
He answered.
"What is it this time?"
Wilder's voice was sharp, almost panicked.
"Dude."
"Lucian and some other doofy dude—"
"—their escalade is being viewed in a Livestream right now."
"It's all over Vidflash."
"Everyone can see them."
"Everyone."
Elijah's eyes widened.
His jaw tightened.
His hand moved to his temple. He rubbed small circles into the skin, his fingers pressing against the tension that was building there.
"Livestream," he said.
His voice was flat.
"You're telling me—"
"—that Lucian's fight—"
"—is being broadcast—"
"—to the entire city?"
"Yes."
"That's what I'm telling you."
"That's—"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you."
---
A knock at the door.
Elijah's head snapped toward the sound. His hand was still on the phone, his voice still sharp.
"What?"
"I'm busy!"
The door opened.
Grace stepped inside.
Her eyes went wide. Her face flushed. Her hands flew to her mouth. Elijah was shirtless, his torso bare, his skin pale. The silver-white streak in his hair caught the dim light.
"Leo!"
Her voice was high, almost a squeak.
"Get some clothes on!"
"What are you—"
"I brought you buns!"
"But—"
"Just—"
"Just put something on!"
Elijah's expression didn't change.
His hand moved to the basket she was holding. His fingers closed around it. He took it from her, his movements smooth, unhurried.
"Thank you," he said.
His voice was calm.
He leaned forward. His lips brushed her forehead—a brief, almost absent gesture.
Then he closed the door.
Grace stood in the hallway.
Her face was still flushed. Her eyes were still wide. Her hands were still pressed against her mouth.
"He's been off," she said.
"Lately."
"Since he came back from practice."
"It's almost like—"
"—almost like he isn't the same person."
"But that's impossible, right?"
"He's still my sweet brotherly friend."
"Right?"
---
Elijah's voice was sharp.
"Lucian."
"Deal with your stalker."
Lucian's voice was flat, almost exhausted.
"Easy for you to say, Elijah."
"Not all of us are freaks like yourself."
"Freak?"
"Yes."
"Freak."
"That's—"
"That's what you are."
"A freak."
"That's—"
"That's the truth."
---
The rings collided with the wave.
Not a sound—a pressure. A weight that pressed against the space, that made the asphalt tremble. The light around them flickered, dimmed, then flared again. The air around them grew thick, heavy, pressing against the space like the weight of a mountain.
The collision sent a shockwave through the night.
A building on the left side of the highway shook. Its windows shattered. Glass rained down on the street below. A car swerved, its driver caught off guard by the explosion of light and heat. A streetlight bent, its metal frame groaning under the pressure.
The road beneath them cracked.
Spiderwebbing fissures spread outward from the point of impact. Dust rose from the wounds. The asphalt buckled, splintered, gave way.
Caleb's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"What the—"
He swerved.
The Charger fishtailed.
---
The patrol cars were behind them.
Their lights were flashing. Their sirens were wailing. Their voices were sharp, cutting through the chaos.
"Pull over!"
"You are disrupting the state of traffic in Fenwick!"
"Pull over now!"
Caleb's voice was sharp.
"You dumb sucker!"
"I'm a damn lieutenant detective!"
"And if you know what's good for you—"
"—you better high tail out of here!"
The patrol car's voice was flat.
"This is your final warning."
"If you do not cooperate—"
"—we will be forced to use necessary force."
Marcus's hand moved.
Not fast. Not slow. Just there.
The air around him shifted. Not temperature—pressure. A weight that pressed against the space. A wave of heat and grit and chaos erupted from his palm.
It struck the patrol car.
The car overturned. Its lights flickered, dimmed, then went dark. Its siren died. Its engine went silent. It rolled across the asphalt, its frame crumpling, its wheels spinning uselessly.
Marcus's voice was flat.
"Noisy insect."
---
Marcus's eyes found Lucian.
"You know," he said.
"You are rather interesting, human."
"I sense that you came across those of my race—"
"—yet not any of them was inside you."
"Based on your aggressive type style attack—"
"—you follow the Kaelos path, don't you?"
He shook his head.
"You chose to still align your being—"
"—with the mortal plane's attachments."
"When instead—"
"—you could let go."
"And let the instinctual hunger for destruction—"
"—that you were molded into being—"
"—be the driver itself."
"How wasteful."
Lucian's voice was flat.
"Big talk."
"Coming from someone following others' orders."
"Aren't you also in the same way—"
"—letting others latch onto you—"
"—and tell you what to do?"
Marcus's expression shifted.
Not much. Just enough.
The air around him grew thick, heavy. The light around his body intensified—not bright, not warm. Dense. A pressure that pressed against the space, that made the asphalt beneath him crack.
Lucian's rings flickered.
They were pushed backward. Not fast. Not slow. Just inevitably. The pale ghost-blue light around them dimmed, flickered, died.
Lucian's knees buckled.
He fell.
---
Marcus's voice was cold.
"I'm a higher lifeform."
"I only listen to those of my own caliber."
"Do you think I'm here—"
"—to entertain you, human?"
"The only reason I'm after you—"
"—is because you are with who I seek after."
"A one-in-a-million-years-in-existence—"
"—to come into being."
"The so-called proclaimed successor—"
"—to that celestial empress—"
"—that almost extinct my people."
His voice was raw.
Rage.
Not the hot rage of a child—the cold rage of something that had been waiting for a very long time.
"And you—"
"—you are nothing."
"Nothing but a tool."
"A stepping stone."
"A—"
He stopped.
His eyes were fixed on Lucian.
"A distraction."
---