The final bell of the day signaled the end of classes across the academy.
Robert and Freddy walked out of the grand front doors into the late afternoon sun, the golden light of Section 3 casting long shadows across the courtyard. The vibrant energy of Imperial City was winding down, the sky shifting from bright blue to deep streaks of violet and orange.
Usually, this was Robert's favorite part of the day. But today, the air felt suffocating.
"You're sure you don't want to come over?" Robert asked, stopping near the edge of the campus transit platforms. "My mom's making her famous food. I can text her to add an extra plate. She'd probably be thrilled to have an excuse to make more."
Freddy stared out at the passing commuter skiffs, his jaw set in a hard line. He shook his head. "No. If I hide out at your place, it's just going to make it worse when I finally go back. I need to face him."
Robert frowned, watching his friend. The usual perpetually amused smirk was entirely gone, replaced by a tense, heavy dread. "Call me. Seriously, Fred. If things go bad, call me, and I'll be there in three seconds flat."
"I know," Freddy said, forcing a faint smile. He bumped his fist against Robert's shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Rob."
Robert watched him trudge toward the high-speed transit lines heading for Sector One, the elite part of the city. He didn't copy a flight power or super-speed for his own trip home. His mind was too busy, his mental capacity feeling strangely bruised after the Holodome incident. Instead, he just walked, letting the familiar noise of the suburban lower sectors wash over him.
By the time Robert reached his neighborhood, the streetlights were flickering to life. His house was modest, a cozy, double-story structure wedged between two larger, modern estates. But to Robert, it was perfect.
He pushed the front door open, immediately hit by the mouth-watering scent of garlic and roasted herbs.
"I'm home!" Robert called out, dropping his jacket on a chair in the entryway.
"In the kitchen!" his mother's voice drifted back.
Robert walked into the kitchen and found his mom by the stove. She was a Meliorate with thermal powers, using a wave of heat from her palms to perfectly crisp a chicken in a cast-iron pan. She didn't even need the oven.
His dad sat at the kitchen counter, a holographic blueprint of a water grid hovering over his datapad. He had minor geokinetic abilities and worked for the city's infrastructure department, shifting earth to lay new pipelines.
"How was the placement exam?" his dad asked, swiping a hand through the hologram to rotate the schematic. "Did you show Professor Vance what a Replicator can really do?"
Robert froze. The image of the Holodome plunging into darkness, the red targets swarming him, and the chilling Latin whisper, Surge iterum ex umbris, flashed violently in his mind.
"It, uh… it got canceled," Robert said, sinking onto a stool. He kept his eyes on the countertop. "Equipment failure. The whole Holodome grid glitched out and shut down."
His mom paused, the heat dissipating from her hands as she turned around, her brow furrowed. "A glitch? Is everyone alright? You didn't get hurt?"
"I'm fine, Mom," Robert said quickly. "Nobody got hurt. They're just pushing the practicals to next week."
His dad sighed, turning off his datapad. "Let me guess. It couldn't handle you?"
Robert gave a bitter, half-hearted laugh. "You know it."
"Oh, you, settle down, humble yourself," his mom said sharply, wiping her hands on a towel and coming over to kiss the top of Robert's head.
"I know," Robert muttered.
"I'm just going to go wash up before dinner," Robert said, standing up. As he walked down the hallway to his room, he rubbed his arms. Despite the warmth of the kitchen, he could still feel a phantom, icy chill clinging to his skin.
Miles away, in the heart of Sector One, the air was not warm.
Freddy stood before the Thorne estate. The house was massive, immaculate, and entirely devoid of life. It looked less like a home and more like a military fortress overlooking Imperial City.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and pushed the doors open.
The grand foyer was dead silent. His shoes echoed loudly against the polished marble floors as he walked toward his father's study. The door was already open.
Captain Thorne stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the sprawling lights of Section 3. He was a broad, imposing man, still wearing his immaculate, silver-and-black Etherion Ranger uniform. The insignias of his rank gleamed under the harsh overhead lights.
Even from the doorway, Freddy could feel the ambient gravity in the room. It was a passive defense mechanism that his father rarely turned off. The air felt fifty pounds heavier, pressing down on Freddy's shoulders and making it harder to breathe.
"You're late," his father said, not turning around.
"The transit lines were backed up," Freddy lied, keeping his voice carefully neutral. He stepped into the room, fighting the urge to slouch under the oppressive gravitational weight.
"I received an alert from the academy," Captain Thorne said, his voice low. He turned, his sharp, dark eyes locking onto Freddy. "A zero for the week's practicals. Explain."
"There was an equipment failure," Freddy said, his heart hammering against his ribs. He gripped the strap of his toolkit tightly to keep his hands from shaking. "The Holodome glitched out while another student was testing. Professor Vance canceled the rest of the exams for safety."
His father stared at him. The gravity in the room subtly ticked up. Freddy felt his knees buckle slightly, his feet feeling like lead.
"An equipment failure," his father repeated, the words dripping with disdain. He walked over to his massive mahogany desk and picked up a solid steel paperweight. "And instead of demanding to take the test in a secondary place, instead of proving your worth to the proctors… You simply accepted a zero."
"Dad, they locked the test down. I didn't have a choice."
"There is always a choice, Frederick!" his father barked, the sudden volume making Freddy flinch. Captain Thorne squeezed his hand. The solid steel paperweight groaned and buckled inward. With a horrific screech of warping metal, the Captain's gravity manipulation crushed the steel into a jagged, hyper-dense marble in the span of a second.
He dropped the ruined metal onto the desk. It landed with a heavy, unnatural thud.
"You are the son of the Captain of the Etherion Rangers," his father said, his voice dropping back to a dangerous, icy calm. "Our bloodline has had powerful people for generations. We do not cower behind 'safety protocols.' We do not accept zeros."
Freddy stared at the crushed metal, his throat tight. "I know."
"Do you?" His father stepped closer, towering over him. The gravity in the room was so heavy now that Freddy had to lock his knees to stay standing. "Because all I see is a boy who looks for every excuse to avoid showing the world how weak he truly is. A weak telekinetic who embarrasses this family name every time he walks into that academy."
The words hit harder than any physical blow. Freddy bit the inside of his cheek, tasting copper, refusing to let the tears welling in his eyes fall.
"I'll make it up," Freddy whispered, his voice cracking. "Next week. I'll get a perfect score."
Captain Thorne looked down at him with a mixture of pity and absolute disgust. He waved a dismissive hand, and the oppressive gravity in the room instantly vanished. Freddy stumbled forward slightly, suddenly weightless.
"Get out of my sight," his father said, turning back to the window. "And do not come back to this study until you have a score worthy of an Etherion Ranger."
Freddy didn't say another word. He turned and walked out of the study, ran up the stairs, his vision blurring with tears. He shut his bedroom door and leaned against it, his chest heaving. The room was small and cluttered, but it was his. It was the one place where he could escape, even if only for a little while.
He stumbled over to his bed and reached under the pillow, pulling out the necklace his mom had left behind. It was a simple silver chain with a small pendant shaped like a star, the only thing he had of hers. He clutched it tightly; the metal digging into his palm as he sank onto the bed.
"I wish you were here," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I wish you could tell me what to do."