The next day, instead of heading home after academy classes, I made a beeline for my personal lab.


    Once there, I immediately set to work, carefully retrieving the newly arrived distortion rods from their case, setting them up in the room’s corners, casting shadows. The rods were heavier than they looked, their polished surfaces catching the low light. As I adjusted their alignment, the faint vibration of their activation thrummed through the air, steady, rhythmic, and a little annoying.


    “Can you reduce the margins for error?” I asked, glancing toward Jade. She was perched on the edge of the workbench, her legs swinging idly.


    She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on me with a faint smile. I shook my head, she simply liked staring when I worked.


    Finally, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yeah, sure,” she agreed, “But seriously, what’s these glowing sticks supposed to do, anyway?”


    I didn’t answer immediately, keeping my focus on the task at hand. Instead focused on fine-tuning the final alignment. Once the last adjustment clicked into place, I stepped back to inspect the setup. The containment field shimmered faintly, a subtle distortion at its edges, signaling that everything was functioning as intended. Satisfied, I let out a quiet breath and turned toward Jade, who was still perched on the table, her legs swinging idly. She was still looking at me with the kind of patient curiosity that wasn’t entirely patient—like she was waiting for something interesting to happen and ready to pounce the moment it did.


    “These glowing sticks are called Distortion Bars,” I explained. “They’re the cheapest tools available for detecting and recording any alterations in reality within a localized parameters. They work by creating a localized containment zone that’s sensitive to reality altering changes.”


    Jade’s eyes lit up and she quickly drew a connection. “So, these rods… they’re basically budget versions of the academy’s alarms? To catch students using their powers on campus?"


    I chuckled, shrugging. “Pretty much the same concept. But the academy alarms use a different version of this device. They use something called Meta Aspect. It’s a type of radiation—unique to metahumans—that gets released whenever we use our powers. Every meta nature leaves a distinct signature.”


    Jade’s eyes lit up with understanding, “So, like a magical fingerprint.”


    “Wait! Wait!” But suddenly, her expression shifted to one of surprise and skepticism. She narrowed her eyes slightly, her tone sharper. “How do you know that? I’ve never read anything like it in the books.”


    I allowed myself a small smile, enjoying the rare moment of seeing her genuinely curious. To be honest, in certain topics related to her meta she was more knowledgeable than me.


    “Of course, you haven’t,” I replied, leaning back slightly. “This exactly isn''t common knowledge. The government keeps this information classified for a reason. But here’s the gist—any cause that alters reality, no matter how subtle, leaves behind a signature. It could be radiation, a distortion field, or some other measurable disturbance like: false memories, how your own meta destabilize the reality for a long periods of time, causing other bad lucks, or even sudden habits appearing in a group of people. You’ll cover it in your later years at the academy.”


    Jade furrowed her brows, her expression thoughtful as she mulled over my words. I could almost see the gears turning in her head, connecting the dots and picking apart the implications.


    “So,” she said slowly, her voice taking on a curious edge, “how does the device differentiate genuine reality shifts from perceptual anomalies? What if the matter itself is inducing a localized truth, causing our observational framework to accept a false baseline reality as the correct temporal constant?


    Her insight was impressive, but not surprising. I nodded, acknowledging her perceptiveness. “That’s a valid concern,” I said, meeting her gaze. “The scientists who developed this had the same worry. So they came up with something clever. They discovered that reality itself has a kind of... weight to it. Not the kind you can measure on a regular scale, but more like a conceptual weight. Think of it as how solid and immovable the rules of the world are in any given spot.”


    “The weight of reality?” Jade echoed, tilting her head in curiosity.


    “Exactly,” I confirmed. “It’s a conceptual metric used to gauge the stability of reality in a defined space. When the rods are active, they measure this ‘reality weight’ within the containment field. Then—and here''s the tricky part—the measured value is cross-referenced against what we call the Universal Reality Constant—or URC—which represents the standardized quantum-mass signature of undistorted space-time across all observable dimensions. Any deviation from this baseline indicates a manipulation of fundamental reality parameters, regardless of perceptual interference or localized reality distortion fields.”


    I leaned forward slightly, shifting my tone to something lighter. “Think of it like a bathtub full of water. You know exactly how much water should be in there. If someone splashes around, pulls some out, or pours more in, you’ll notice because the water level changes.”


    Jade’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “So, reality has a ‘water level,’ and these rods are your measuring cup?”


    I chuckled, shaking my head. “Crude metaphor, but yeah, that’s the gist. Any deviation from the constant is a clear indicator that something has happened—whether it’s a minor disturbance or a major shift. The universe has its own normal ''water level'' of reality. When someone uses meta or changes things, it''s like they''re making waves in that reality-water or adding a color to it. These rods can spot those waves and colors, even if our eyes think everything looks normal. That''s how we know when something''s been messed with, even if the thing doing the messing is trying to hide it."


    “Okay,” she said, tilting her head, “but what if someone messes with the rods themselves? Like, what if their powers alter how the rods detect reality? Wouldn’t that hide the changes?”


    Her question caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help but give her an approving nod. “Smart,” I admitted. “That’s actually a big concern in labs where they rely on this tech. If someone can alter the rods’ ability to measure reality, it makes it harder to detect manipulation.”


    “So, it’s possible?” she pressed.


    “It is,” I admitted, “but there’s multiple safeguards. The rods are designed to self-calibrate against the URC at regular intervals. If their readings fall out of sync, they shut down to prevent corrupted data. It’s not perfect, but it makes tampering a lot harder—unless the person doing it knows exactly what they’re doing.”


    “Still, that’s pretty cool,” Jade said, her lips quirking into a faint grin as she clapped her hands lightly. “Can you measure how much weight I’m pressing on reality?”


    I shot her a look, half amused, half exasperated. “We’ll get to that later,” I promised, waving her off as I focused on the task at hand.


    I handed her a few small items to position around the room. “For now, just put these where I showed you.”


    Jade took the items with a mock sigh of exaggerated effort, but she complied, moving to the other side of the room as I approached the center. Suspended in midair was the containment chamber.. It hung there, completely ignoring the pull of gravity, as though it existed in its own pocket of reality.


    With careful precision, I reached into my pocket and extracted the spell cube. The smooth, iridescent surface caught the light as it left my fingers, drifting into the containment field as if guided by an unseen hand, pulling the cube into its center, where it began to hover and rotate, slow and deliberate. I didn’t waste time lingering near it. I quickly stepped back, putting a safe distance between myself and the field. I had no desire to be caught in the feedback when the cube''s casing finally cracked.


    "Which spell is this one?" Jade asked, eyeing the floating cube. She knew I carried several spells, but I didn’t often discuss them.


    “Leave a Face Behind,” I explained, keeping my eyes on the cube as it slowly rotated. “It creates a thirty-second clone of someone from their recent past. Handy for making a quick escape, or...” I shrugged. “Fighting alongside yourself for half a minute. Comes in useful more often than you’d think.”


    “Hard to believe magic has all these tricks,” Jade muttered, her expression carrying an edge of distrust that was impossible to miss.


    I smirked faintly at the irony. “Coming from someone who bends randomness and probability to her will, that’s a bold take.”


    Her head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing. “That’s not the same,” she said defensively, crossing her arms. “My meta doesn''t entirely rewrite reality—they make adjustments to it. Subtly.”


    “To most people,” I countered, meeting her gaze evenly, “your adjustment might as well be magic. Subtle doesn’t mean it’s not incredible.”


    She merely shrugged, not caring, but then her expression hardened. “You still haven’t told me what the first spell you assimilated was supposed to do. I know it’s not just about making you ‘think better.’”


    I sighed, running a hand down my face. Guilt prickled in my chest, but I stayed silent, unsure how to answer without cracking open a door I wasn’t ready to face.


    Jade’s eyes flashed with frustration. “You expect me to share my secrets with you,” she said, her voice rising, “while you keep locking yourself away? Relationships don’t work like that, North! It’s not fair.”


    Her words hit like a hammer, harder than I expected, sharper than any argument we’d had before. And the worst part was, she wasn’t wrong. The secrets I kept—about my past, my meta, my choices—were a wall I’d or we’d built between us. Now, it was up to me whether I wanted to tear it down or let it grow taller.


    I exhaled slowly, glancing at her. “You’re right,” I admitted quietly. “It’s not fair. You’ve trusted me with so much, and I... haven’t done the same. I’ll tell you about the spell. But rest not here—not now. Just... give me some time.”


    Her scowl softened, but only slightly. “Time,” she echoed skeptically. “You keep saying that, but it feels like you’re just stalling.”


    “I’m not,” I promised, “I mean it.”


    She studied me for a long moment, her sharp gaze searching for cracks in my sincerity. Finally, she let out a breath and looked away. “Fine. But don’t think I’ll let this go.”


    “I wouldn’t expect you to,” I said, forcing a small smile.


    I guided the still-fuming Jade to sit down, her resistance evident in the way she stiffened at first. Eventually, she relented, settling into the chair with a huff. It hit me then, as it always did in these quiet moments, how lucky I was to have her in my life. And how much I couldn''t afford to lose her. I settled into the chair across from her, taking a moment to straighten my thoughts. Should I make an excuse, or just tell her the truth? She deserved honesty, but the truth wasn’t easy to share. It wasn’t pretty, and it might scare her. After a moment of deliberation, I decided to be open.


    “It was for my head,” I said quietly. “The first spell I assimilated—it was to fix my mind. I was… losing my memories. Slowly, but steadily. And it wasn’t just memory—I was becoming delusional.”


    Jade’s expression shifted instantly. Her irritation melted away, replaced by concern so fierce it almost made me flinch. She reached out, grabbing my hand with a firm grip. “You are sick?” she asked, her voice tight with worry. “We can find someone—a healing meta nature or someone in the city who specializes in mental health! I have a friend back home who’s amazing at editing problems like that. I’ll send him a message. Or we could hire someone—”


    “Jade,” I interrupted gently, squeezing her hands to calm her. “It’s fixed now. The spell worked. You don’t have to worry.”


    But she shook her head, her jaw tightening in defiance. “Have you even seen your eyes? Every time I look at them, I feel like… something’s moving inside. Watching. There’s this dark… mass. Strangeness. It shifts constantly when you’re concentrating, like it’s alive.”Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    This was news to me. Of course, I didn’t have a habit of staring into mirrors while lost in thought. Her words sent a cold ripple through me. Was this strangeness growing? Was it a symptom of something worse?


    “Is it growing?” I asked quietly.


    She leaned closer, studying my eyes intently. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. Right now, it’s the size of a drop. But it moves.”


    I nodded, though her words unsettled me more than I let on. If the Arcane spell had fixed my mind, what was this… strangeness? A leftover fragment? Corruption? I still wasn’t sure. Hopefully, the experiments would yield some answers soon, or I’d be walking blindly into something I couldn’t control.


    Jade’s grip tightened on my hands. “I don’t want to lose you,” she said, her voice soft but trembling with intensity. “So, please—don’t take any more risks like this.”


    I opened my mouth to respond, to promise something reassuring, but before I could, her tone shifted. It was like a blade sliding free of its sheath, sharp and cold. “And if you do,” she continued, her gaze locking onto mine, “I’ll make sure you stop. Myself, if I have to.”


    The sheer conviction in her voice made it clear she wasn’t making some empty threat. I blinked, momentarily speechless, my brain scrambling for a response.


    She was downright scary when she got serious.


    “I won’t,” I promised, trying to reassure her.


    Her grip on my hands loosened just slightly, but her eyes still searched mine, as if trying to gauge the sincerity of my words.


    “And let’s not forget,” I added with a sly smile, trying to lighten the mood, “you’re the one who likes to take risks, not me.”


    “But I don’t lose,” Jade shot back, her confidence unwavering. "Never."


    I couldn’t argue with that. Jade never lost—at least, not in the ways that mattered.


    “I promise,” I said again, softer this time, as I stepped closer. I cupped her face gently between my palms, as if holding something infinitely precious, "no unnecessary risks."


    The effect was immediate—Jade''s tension melted away under my touch. It fascinated me how this simple gesture always seemed to calm her. Did she secretly like it when I cupped her face? I filed away that observation.


    She let out a small, reluctant sigh, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You’d better mean it.”


    “I do,” I replied, my thumbs brushing lightly against her cheeks. “For you, I mean it.”


    Thereafter, I turned my attention back to the Arcane spell suspended in the air, It had broken out of the shell. Its ever-morphing form mesmerizing in its stillness. It hung there, unaffected by the world around it.


    After taking a final look, I turned to Jade. “Let’s go home.”


    “That’s it?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.


    I nodded. “Hmm. We’ll come back tomorrow to review the observations,” I explained. “The instruments need time to gather data.”


    I turned toward the door, ready to leave the lab behind for the day. But before I could take more than a step, I felt her hand wrap around my arm, tugging gently.


    “Wait,” she said softly, her voice low and hesitant.


    I stopped, turning back to her, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone. “What is it?”


    She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly on my sleeve. The sharp confidence she carried a moment ago seemed to falter, replaced by a quiet vulnerability. Her gaze dropped, and she clutched the hem of her skirt nervously, a soft redness creeping up her neck and cheeks. “It’s our space,” she murmured, her voice trailing off as she glanced away. “There’s no one else here… Do you think... I mean... we...”


    For a moment I was unable to close my mouth. My lips curled into amused smiled as I stepped closer, Jade’s breath hitched slightly, her silver eyes flickering upward to meet mine.


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    I took a moment to admire her effortlessly elegant appearance. She wore a strapless black corset-style bodice adorned with silver buttons and a statement bow at the neckline, paired with sheer, billowy white off-shoulder sleeves that gathered delicately at the wrists. From the bodice flowed a tiered white ruffled skirt, giving her a dreamy presence. Her hair was styled into a messy updo, with a long, thin ribbon tied into a bow at the top, its ends cascading down softly for a whimsical touch and the soft strands framing her face like a masterpiece. A delicate choker necklace accentuated her neck, while the faint tattoo on her shoulder hinted at an edgy, mysterious side. She looked every bit like the graceful mystery she was.


    We stood like that for a moment, staring at each other, neither of us blinking. Her nervousness was endearing, stirring something protective and tender inside me. I couldn’t help but smile. My fingers trailed up her thighs slowly, feeling the delicate tension in her body as I leaned in, resting my forehead lightly against hers.


    I was struck again by how delicate and fragile she felt beneath my touch; sometimes I feared she might break if I wasn’t careful with my touch.


    I slid my hands to her waist, lifting her effortlessly and placing her on the table behind us. She gasped softly, her hands gripping my shoulders for balance. Then her hands slid upward from my shoulder to my neck, her fingers tangling gently in my hair. She pulled me closer, erasing the last space between us. I leaned in, trailing soft kisses along her jawline, down to the sensitive spot just below her ear. She gasped, her grip on me tightening as her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, holding me to her.


    "..."


    "..."


    “Wait,” she whispered softly, stopping me.


    “What?” I asked, breathless, my chest rising and falling as I tried to steady myself.


    She leaned closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispered, “I love you.”


    The words hit me like a wave, crashing over everything else. I brushed end of ribbon off her face, letting my fingers linger against her cheek. “I love you too,” I whispered, the words carrying every ounce of truth I felt in that moment. Her lips curved into a smile, soft and radiant. The tension in her body eased as she relaxed against me, her arms still wrapped around my neck. We stayed like that, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance.


    Time blurred, and for the next hour, nothing else existed but the warmth of her touch and the steady rhythm of our hearts, beating as one.


    <hr>


    From the moment Jade entered my life, my evenings had transformed into something tranquil and cherished. They had become my favorite part of the day—quiet, uninterrupted moments spent in her presence, far more beautiful than any other mystery in the world.


    With her, even silence felt full.


    After we finished at the lab, we decided to take the train home. I didn’t have my driver’s license yet—not because I didn’t want it, but because other things always seemed more urgent. The train didn’t bother me, though. In fact, I kind of liked it. Tonight, it gave me more time to spend with her. As the evening train hummed along the tracks, I glanced down at Jade. Her head rested against my shoulder, fitting there like it was made to. Her hair had grown longer over the past few months, spilling down like black ink over my arm. I couldn’t help but notice how seren she looked.


    Outside, the sun was setting, bathing everything in warm, golden light. It poured through the windows, illuminating her face in a way that made her look almost unreal. Her lashes cast delicate shadows against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted as she dozed. She was always beautiful, but like this, she was... dreamy.


    I didn’t want to disturb her, but the moment was too perfect to let it slip by. Quietly, I opened my notebook and slipped a pencil from my pocket.


    The train car was relatively quiet, a low murmur of conversations in the background blending with the hum of the iron wheels. A few passengers were reading; others were immersed in their phones. A group of teenagers in the corner shattered the calm with their animated chatter, but even their noise felt distant.


    I began sketching, my strokes light and deliberate. I wasn’t an artist, not really, but I liked to draw when it felt important—and this felt important. I traced the curve of her jaw, the delicate arch of her brows, the way her hair fell like silk across her shoulders. A small, involuntary smile tugged at my lips as I worked, the drawing slowly taking shape.


    The train jolted as it rounded a bend, but Jade didn’t stir. I glanced down at her again, chuckling softly. She could sleep through anything when she felt safe. I liked to think it was because she was with me. She was a fiery storm in most aspects of life but had this uncanny ability to relax completely in moments like these. Maybe it was because she wore herself out so completely—burning bright until she needed to retreat and recharge. Or maybe it was her impish habit of biting and scratching when she was impish or frustrated left its mark—literally. My shoulders and arms still had reminders of her mischief. Maybe she was a cat in her past life, picking fights for no reason and curling up with an air of contentment when she decided it was time.


    I smiled at the thought, my pencil gliding across the page. The drawing was starting to mirror her.


    The train slid into an underground tunnel, and the warm sunlight was replaced by the artificial glow of overhead lights. The world outside vanished into shadows.


    I was just adding the finishing touches to her hair when a violent impact suddenly rocked the entire train.


    It was sudden, violent, and deafening.


    The train car lurched, throwing passengers forward in their seats.


    The air filled with the horrific screech of grinding metal, a sound like nails dragging across the universe itself.


    My pencil clattered to the floor, forgotten, as my instincts kicked in.


    I grabbed the armrest with one hand and wrapped my other arm tightly around Jade. The train shuddered again, a second, harder impact sending more people tumbling from their seats. Cries of confusion and fear rose around us as the car rocked violently, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead.


    Jade stirred, her head lifting abruptly from my shoulder. Her silver eyes were wide, her expression groggy but laced with concern. “What’s happening?” she asked, her voice slightly unsteady.


    The screeching sound came again, this time sharper, closer. The train groaned against the rails as if something massive was forcing it off track. Passengers screamed. A backpack skidded across the aisle, and a man’s phone slid under a seat, spinning to a stop. The lights blinked out again, plunging us into brief, suffocating darkness before they flickered back to life.


    “Stay close to me,” I commanded, my voice steady despite the chaos. I tightened my grip on Jade’s hand, scanning our surroundings for anything that might give me a clue as to what was happening—or how we could escape if it got worse.


    The train shook violently again, harder this time, throwing people sideways. Someone’s luggage slammed into the wall with a dull thud. The air filled with the acrid scent of burning metal. My mind raced, adrenaline surging as I tried to assess the situation. The sound of crunching metal came again, this time so loud it felt as though the entire train might split in half. Whatever was out there, it wasn’t just an accident. Something—or someone—was interfering.


    Supervillain attack, my mind supplied grimly. The scale of this chaos suggested nothing less.


    The train’s jerky motion slowed, the brakes screeching with an ear-piercing wail. Before we could catch our breath, a deep, guttural roar echoed through the tunnel. The sound was unnatural, vibrating through the metal walls like the growl of something massive. It sent chills down my spine.


    “Did you hear that?” Jade asked, her grip on my hand tightening. Her silver eyes, wide with concern, flicked toward the darkened windows.


    “Yeah,” I replied, my voice low, steady despite the storm of thoughts racing through my head.


    My gaze swept the train car. Most passengers were frozen in fear, clutching seats or each other, but a few—like us—were scanning the surroundings, trying to make sense of what was happening.


    Had anything like this ever happened in the last two cycles?


    My memories, crystal-clear since assimilating the Splinter and Mindfield Arcane spells, told me no. I could recall buried fragments of my past, trivial details I hadn’t thought about in years. Yet this? There was no precedent for this, no news stories, no media buzz. Nothing like it.


    “Something’s not right,” I murmured, my mind racing.


    Was this an attack? Sabotage? Or something worse?


    The train jolted again as it came to a final, jarring halt. The screech of metal-on-metal ended with an eerie silence. The lights flickered once, twice, and then failed completely, plunging the train into darkness. The faint, flickering glow of emergency exit lights along the floor was all that remained, casting long, eerie shadows across the car. Someone near the front of the car shouted, their voice cracking with fear. “What’s happening? Someone do something!” A ripple of nervous energy spread through the passengers as others chimed in, their voices overlapping in panicked confusion.


    A sharp whoosh drew my attention to a man a few seats away who had conjured a small flame in the palm of his hand, likely hoping to illuminate the space. Instead, the light cast flickering, distorted shadows on the walls, making the already eerie atmosphere even more unnerving. Someone yelped and scrambled back, bumping into another passenger, who promptly retaliated with a defensive burst of static electricity that crackled ominously in the air.


    “Stop! You’re going to start a fire!” a woman yelled, trying to push past the flame conjurer. But her own attempts to form a barrier of water splashed wildly, drenching the nearby seats and sending people scrambling.


    Another passenger, a wiry man near the center, closed his eyes tightly and began muttering under his breath. The air around him shimmered faintly, suggesting he was trying to locate something—or someone—through his meta. But whatever he was doing clearly wasn’t helping. His muttering turned to frustrated groans as he stumbled forward, knocking into a younger woman who squeaked in alarm and reflexively released a puff of colored smoke from her hands. The smoke billowed out, spreading confusion and obscuring everyone’s already limited visibility.


    “Everyone, calm down!” a voice shouted from somewhere in the back, though it was drowned out almost immediately by the growing cacophony of fearful passengers wielding their often useless—and now dangerous—powers in desperation.


    “This is not helping!” I growled under my breath, scanning the car as panic threatened to spiral further out of control.


    Jade’s grip on my hand tightened, anchoring me. “Idiots,” she muttered, her voice low but cutting. “They’re going to tear this place apart before anything actually happens.”


    I nodded, my mind racing as I tried to tune out the chaos and focus. Whatever had stopped the train was still out there—and from the distant, guttural roar that echoed through the tunnel again, it was closing in.


    “Jade,” I said, keeping my voice calm but firm, “we need to get out of here now. The longer we stay, the worse this is going to get.”


    She nodded sharply, her expression hardening into her usual look of determination. “Nearest exit?”


    “Through there,” I said, pointing toward the end of the car. “If we move quickly, we can—”


    My words were cut off by another sudden jolt. This time, the train car lurched sideways. Passengers screamed again, but the louder cries came from from the last car. The panic rose to a fever pitch as another burst of wild metas filled the space—more flashes of light, another gush of water, and the faint hum of an uncontrolled levitation attempt that sent a bag sailing across the aisle.


    This wasn’t just chaos anymore—it was a powder keg ready to blow.


    I cast my gaze around, scanning everything as my mind raced, analyzing and discarding possibilities at lightning speed.


    FIrst and foremost, I didn’t have a blaster or any kind of weapon on me—a mistake. My powers were cerebral, not physical, and though I had a few tools at my disposal, they weren’t exactly standard combat gear. If whatever was out there came for us, I’d have to rely on ingenuity and quick thinking to get us through.


    Jade’s voice cut through the noise like a knife, steady and firm. “Whatever it is, we need to stay sharp.”


    I nodded, my free hand instinctively brushing against the notebook in my arms. I placed it in my bag.


    From the sound and actions, I figured whatever it was not human. The thoughts in the back of my mind also flashed to the two spells I hadn’t yet used. Those weren’t for casual use, but if this turned life-or-death—and it was certainly heading that way—I’d have to break them out.


    “We need to figure out what’s happening,” I said, keeping my voice steady, though the words felt hollow in the chaos around us. “But first, let’s get to the nearest exit.”


    Jade nodded, her usual determination flashing back into her eyes as we both braced ourselves for whatever villain or monster had suddenly decided to attack.