Standing over a desk with a piping hot mug of black coffee, Miguel Ramos, the Fist of the Alexandria Foundation, studied the monitors in Teresa Torres’ apartment. A direct feed to H.E.L.P.’s security system had given him both eyes and ears across the entirety of the Pacific Royal Campus but there were far too many blind spots for his liking. Out of respect to the students’ privacy, the security in the dormitories didn’t exist outside of common areas and most of the campus grounds weren’t monitored, meaning the surrounding forest and trails were entirely vulnerable.

Too many variables for his ability to accurately account for, and that was without taking into consideration the students themselves. You had students who could fly, those who could teleport, phase through walls, travel underground, and the list went on and on. Without limiting students to specified routes and essentially putting the campus on high alert, the Fist had no way of controlling the variables.

It would have been well within his power to issue an alert to the Chancellor and install the Foot’s soldiers across campus but then Daedalus would have been alerted to his presence and their game of cat and mouse would be over.

Pacific Royal was subsequently the safest place in the world for Hyperhumans while also being incredibly vulnerable and void of the necessary precautions that would have stopped the likes of Daedalus, or even Hyperion from making their moves. Time and time again, the school had proven exploitable to members of their own kind while still keeping students and the surrounding community safe from the world that hated them.

While Torres would never voice it, both she and Miguel knew that Daedalus had to be one of their own. The Foundation was no stranger to experimenting on their own, and while most experiments were conducted in a safe, controlled environment, there was one girl who had been put through such horrific experiments that she was extradited by the former Chancellor of P.R.C.U. for her safety. After that, those experiments, and in fact that entire level had been ordered to be shut down.

Shortly after that, the abductions started.

Originally there was no pattern. Students would disappear and those that reappeared were too traumatized to help, bearing scars, stitches and other signs of invasive procedures. Some of those who reappeared claimed to be ‘healed’, their Hyperhuman abilities gone or at the very least inert and nigh-undetectable. Then a pattern began to emerge, firstly vulnerable students who had no family to come looking for them and then, subclass Hyperhumans. Hyperhumans who appeared inhuman or had extranormal features, appendages or otherwise couldn’t walk down a street without alarming the general populace.

No matter how many times they changed security clearances, and rotated staff, the experiments had continued and each time they were discovered, Fist only arrived in time to find an abandoned laboratory covered in blood stains. More than once a victim had died in his arms, too severely drained of blood to survive until help arrived.

While several students had vanished in the wake of the Chancellor’s takedown of House Orcinus, the Hyperion’s Children sect that had been lying in secret under Pacific Royal’s nose, one particular name fit the pattern.

Robert Arkwright.

A large man who appeared more akin to a troll or an orc than a human. He wouldn’t have been easy to subdue in a direct fight which either meant that Daedalus had ways to get a victim to come along willingly, or Arkwright had been sedated and transported otherwise.

The Fist took a long sip of his coffee, pouring over the notes he had gathered over the last few days. Robert had last been seen the day before the Trial sabotage, and while plenty of evidence pointed to the idea that he had sabotaged it, Naira Cameron took that fall. None of the other incarcerated Orcinus members tried to pin the blame on Robert either, which either meant he wasn’t directly involved or still held some sort of leverage over them.

But Miguel had to believe Robert’s disappearance could only be connected to Daedalus. Which meant he needed to return to the Southern Plateau. There was only one place to make someone as large as Arkwright disappear and that was the forest.

And if an orc fell in the forest and no one was around to hear it, would it still make a sound?

Miguel finished his coffee and adjusted his tie. If there was evidence to be found in the forest, then it was as good as found.

"Hey, I got your text... what do you need, Rory?" Mary seemed surprised to see Rory in the library, let alone hunched over a laptop in a study room. He had a notebook open to a blank page, ready to take notes. More than any of that, though... there was a strange look in Rory's eyes that she couldn't quite place. He seemed... determined. Angry. Afraid.

"Right, uh... I..." He didn't know how to explain what he needed, what he was doing, or why he was doing it. Filling her in on his secret assignment seemed like a bad idea. But Mary knew him well enough to tell when he was lying. Middle path, then, was the best option. "I'm looking at some stuff from the Trials, and I was warned it wasn't going to be pleasant."

Mary raised an eyebrow, taking a seat at the small table across from him. She leaned forward, chin in her hands as a small and devilish grin formed on her face. "What, too scared to ask Kat-"

"No." Rory's response was quick, and instinctual. Mary pretended to be shocked, but they both knew she had effectively got under his skin. Rory shook his head. "Besides... a lot happened this weekend. Before it all went bad. I..." He hesitated. He didn't quite know what to call what he had going on. They never really put a word to it. Last thing he needed to do was rush it, so he'd have to settle for the next best answer. "Look, Katja's not interested."

"Her loss."

"Yeah, thanks." He rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse again of his laptop screen. A folder full of video files was there, waiting for him. Surely, there were other ways to root out a traitor.

But all other leads were, for the most part, dried up. And with Lorc out of commission, the team all on edge, and morale this low... he needed to narrow the suspects. Besides, it would only be a matter of time before the others found out what he was up to. If he could secure himself a head start before that happened, he'd be set.

"I should get started..."

Rory sat in front of his laptop, sliding on an old pair of headphones, and opening up the first video file.

---

It was hard watching someone break down. Mary was lucky she only had to see Rory break. Rory watched all nine. He had to pause frequently to wipe tears from his eyes, or to stand up and pace around the room. By the end, Rory just slammed the laptop lid closed and rested his head on the table. His notebook was filled with the names of everyone, some crossed out and then re-added and crossed out again. His head pounded in his skull, his chest and every muscle in his fiber felt heavier than they ever had before. If he had the energy, he would be angry. Seething. But after watching it all, he just felt tired. He wanted to go home.

Home.

Mary walked behind him, rubbing his back softly the same way he had when they were young. "It's over, Riri. It's over."

Rory shook his head, eyes screwed shut as he hid his face in his arms on the table. "No... not yet."

Mary paused her movement. He never let her get away with calling him that. She reached out towards the notebook next to Rory. He panicked, slamming his palm over the notes. He didn't look at Mary, but she got the message. She backed away, leaning against the wall and folding her arms as he shoved the notes into his bag. "It's about the Trials, isn't it? Don't tell me you're beating yourself up over-"

"They wanted to recruit me, Mary."

Silence followed for a moment. Neither of them knew how to talk about it... or him for that matter. Eventually, Mary walked back to her seat and silently sat down, watching him as he pulled the notes out again to clean them up.

There were a few individuals he was fairly confident couldn't possibly side with Hyperion's Children, especially after the footage. The thought of Banjo taking orders from anyone was laughable, especially not the maniacs worshipping the guy who put him in the hospital years ago. Calliope was unlikely... even if the actual shotgun to the leg wasn't real, the odds they would do that to their own was unlikely. Plus, Calliope was just as unlikely as Banjo to follow the beat of their own drum. Her and Banjo had arguments... but no argument would ever drive her to Hyperion. Last on the absolutely free and clear was Haven. He paused as he crossed her name off the list. He wanted it not to be her... but the simulation tried to kill her. The images of her were going to haunt him. Now that he knew what Katja's powers were capable of... borrowing her power before confronting the traitor might be best.

His pen hovered over Katja's name. She suffered more than some in the simulation. Carving into a wall of flesh with your bare hands didn't seem like the kind of thing Hyperion's children would be for. He had never asked Katja much about her past, but what little he could piece together made what he witnessed even worse. The simulation tormented her psychologically almost as much as Haven. It haunted her with her past. But the simulation mocked him too. Did everything it could to break and mold him. And it molded Katja. Katja broke in the simulation, and what he saw wouldn't leave his mind. She was one of two who were truly willing to kill. But kill wasn't the right word. Kill was what Amma did. Katja slaughtered.

Part of his mind settled on Katja's behavior before the Trials, at breakfast. She was off... but confrontational when pushed. Maybe, just maybe, she had known. Was that why she was off that morning?

If Katja was the traitor... would anyone be able to stop her from hurting the team?

Could he stop her from killing Haven?

Had she always been holding back?

Rory moved his pen away from her name. She wasn't his first suspect... but after what he witnessed, he wasn't sure he could trust her.

Rory looked down at Harper's name, sighing as he crossed her name off without much hesitation. Like Haven, the simulation seemed to revel in torturing her in ways he couldn't even imagine. He hadn't seen her the past few days... he felt bad for not noticing the fresh scars when they all got out. He didn't know she had a sister. He didn't know a lot of things about his friends. But he was certain, between the simulation and the way she clocked how Katja was off at breakfast, she couldn't betray the team like that. In the same breath, Rory crossed off Gil's name. He got it worse than Harper did, and his continued presence in the hospital to recover was a sign that he was a clear target to be taken out. The simulation tried to kill him as much as it tried to kill Haven, it seemed.

Rory put a question mark next to Amma's name. Part of him wanted to cross it off entirely, but he knew it would be irresponsible. She had hurt him. She also used that power to save Haven. He didn't understand their interaction fully, but he understood enough. She didn't only act in her own self-interest. For a moment, she was a team player. Of course, then she turned around and hurt him. He had felt what he could only imagine to be a fraction of her power. After having seen what had happened in the simulation, that was her at her weakest. Despite the healing, lines of skin on his arms still felt raw. But at the same time... it felt like there was something underneath her words and actions that were hesitant. He knew what it was like to play a part, and to wear a mask and hope no one noticed. Even when Amma attacked him, it didn't feel like her. He didn't know how else to put it. He couldn't cross her off, but he would be surprised if it was her.

He hesitated as he hung his pen over Aurora's name, before finally placing a question mark next to it. Aurora was attacked, surely. But the danger she faced was minimal compared to the others. If anything, it felt like the simulation was trying to groom her. The fear she expressed seemed real... but Rory was so jaded at this point her couldn't tell if it was just an act. She seemed to be in a position to say the right thing at the right time for her teammates... but she seemed more devastated at the thought of being abandoned than anyone else. She wasn't his top suspect.

Not when Lorcán was on the list. He, out of everyone, seemed to suffer the least. The scar was nasty, but the tone of how the simulation toyed with him was more theater than anything. Or, more accurately... it felt like how the simulation tried to groom Rory. Aurora was there to seduce him, the evil version of him had a cool name and a scar that it ended up passing on to the real him. It didn't hand him Hyperion's robes, but it might as well have. Compounded with his behavior in setting up for the Trials, his connection to Aurora, his weird vibes with Amma, and the fact he was willing to kill in the simulation. They weren't real, and even Hot Shot could tell that surely. But out of everyone, he was one of the most likely options on his list. Besides Rory, Lorcán was set up as the only other true heir to Hyperion. Him, Rory, Katja, and Amma.

The only person Rory knew wasn't a traitor was himself.

Rory hoped Tad was wrong. Based on the footage, it looked like he was.

Rory closed the notebook, his head pounding as he stood up and shoved everything into his bag. Mary had tried talking to him, but stopped when he wouldn't respond. She had never seen Rory like this. He wasn't just vacant or absent, not even cold.

When Mary looked into Rory's eyes, there wasn't any light in the bright blue eyes.

He looked dead.

They came in through the open window.

Under the cover of night, they stole quietly across campus, undetected, casting no lingering shadows as they approached the dormitories. Scaling the building with ease before slipping quietly inside the Canis dormitory. Asleep in the bed was a pair of students, one belonged, the other did not.

They were not there for the one who belonged.

Two men flanked either side of the bed, while a third stood reading, his weapon trained on the pair while they slept. Liquid sprayed through the air and onto the floor, as a pair of syringes were tested before being inserted into the pair, ensuring there would be no fight and commotion to wake the rest of the dormitory.

They bound her hands first, then her feet and lastly her wings before gingerly removing her from the bed and scaling back down the side of the dormitory before disappearing into the night, they prize in tow.

No one any wiser they had come or gone.

The first week of classes was rapidly vanishing for Blackjack and the rest of Pacific Royal as clouds rolled in with a cool Autumn breeze. Having finally made it over the hump, the senior class quickly became less occupied with their final year of classes and more focussed on the impending dance.

Especially given the change in dress code.

Normally, no forethought nor effort needed to be made into one’s formal attire. The school was built on military traditions and a dress uniform had been provided with specific stipulations in place for its use. The Senior Dress was one such occasion where the dress uniform typically would have been used. However with the Foundation’s meddling, the uniforms were out the window and with a themed dance approaching, students were planning trips to the mainland in the evenings in order to shop and find that perfect outfit.

One such trip had been planned for today by several members of Blackjack. Following the series of unfortunate events that had befallen the team, it seemed only logical that they blow off some steam and head over to the mainland for shopping, dinner and drinks.

Unfortunately, as they waited, there was no sign of Haven. No familiar sound of wings beating overhead, no cheerful call as the girl hurried along the ground. Instead they stood, waiting by the ferry with no communication about this sudden, unusual tardiness.

Haven of course had no say in the matter.

Her eyes were wide with fear as she lay strapped to an operating table in a foreign room that had once been the hidden workshop of Isabelle Christianson. The defunct transportation pad, the same one that had allowed Hyperion and his forces to secretly invade Pacific Royal, now hummed active again as a man in a dirty lab coat hurried about between unwitting students now being used as experiments in some twisted vision.

Vials labelled with various words like ‘Subject V’ were arranged neatly in a nearby case while a syringe was loaded with one reading ‘Subject R’ above Haven. She tried to scream but with no avail as the gag in her mouth restricted all noise. Several enclosures lined the walls, bodies hung suspended inside, their breathing laboured, if their chests moved at all. Lacerations and stitches marred their bodies while black marks from outlines stained their skin.

“There, there little bird,” A less than calming voice said as the man in the lab coat appeared over Haven, illuminated by the hanging lightbulb overhead. The front of his lab coat was covered in a blood stained smock while a mask hung around his grey-stubble-covered chin. His hair seemingly had a mind of its own as it stuck out in almost every direction while holding a pair of glasses just above his forehead.

“She said you had wonderful wings,” He mused, stroking one of the feathered appendages causing Haven to wince and struggle against her restraints. “They truly are majestic.” He added, before a small snarl twisted onto his face.

“Shame we have to clip them.” He snapped, his personality almost changing on a dime as Haven fought the lump forming in her throat. The man picked up several vials of blood, drawing Haven’s eye to the small bandage on her arm, they had taken blood, her blood. She watched the madman’s face as it twisted and warped, something seemingly crawling beneath his skin, fighting to get out before the man pulled an inhaler, taking a deep huff before sympathetic grey eyes looked down on the restrained girl.

“Shh, shh, shh,” The man in the lab coat stated, roughly wiping tears from Haven’s eyes with a gloved hand. “I’m not a monster,” He stated, seemingly returning to Jeykll again before Hyde peeked out from under a smile revealing slightly yellowed teeth, stained from years of smoking and too many cups of coffee based on the horrid smell coming from his breath. He began to rummage through a tray of tools and needles before speaking again.

“You’ll be sedated again before the procedure begins.”

“What is this?” Lorcán’s voice cracked as the shade with Aurora’s face guided him through the forest, the flames parting as the psychopomp led him back along the path the stag had run.

“These are your first steps,” She responded, “Come, don’t delay, there is someone eagerly waiting to meet you.”

“Someone?” Lorcán repeated, “Waiting to meet me?” He asked, more confused than ever.

“Yes,” The psychopomp replied with Aurora’s signature smile, her eyes lighting up, the pinch of her cupid’s bow and playful dancing at the corners of her mouth. “She’s incredibly excited, she’s waited your whole life to meet you.”

“My whole life?” Lorcán asked, repeating the odd verbiage. The roar of the inferno was slowly fading in his ears the closer he got to the light at the edge of the forest. Shivers were running up and down his body, chills setting in as he slowed his footsteps and pulled away from the shade.

“I don’t want to go yet,” He stated, looking back towards the fire. “I’m not ready yet,”

“University is a big step,” Aurora replied from beside Lorcán as the pair looked out over the beach. It was the first weekend of September the year after Hyperion’s attack, the first year that Aurora and Lorcán were transitioning from the Collegiate programs into University. Aurora had declared her major in psychology, but Lorcán had yet to declare his.

As usual, nightmares had brought Aurora out to the beach, but for once, she wasn’t alone in the growing anxiety that came when the sunset. Lorcán’s stomach was in knots about moving into University and joining Blackjack, the same team both his parents had been on when they were students. The pressure of legacy was doing a number on the boy’s usually relaxed demeanor.

Lorcán looked to his right, Aurora was dressed comfortably in a pair of leggings and a baggy sweatshirt in a colour that managed to both bring out her eyes and accent her hair. He had seen her in a swimsuit, in uniform and even in a dress and still, there was never a time she looked more beautiful than she did now.

The pair had spent many nights out on the beach in this very spot. Lorcán swore it was the best spot on the entire island to look at the stars. They’d been out late before, but never to the point where they were both taking turns stifling yawns.

Lorcán looked down, feeling a weight against his shoulder, copper-toned hair catching the corner of his eye as he realized Aurora had fallen asleep against his shoulder. A smile crossed his face before he stifled another yawn.

Maybe this year won't be so bad after all.

“It won’t be, but you need to come with me.” Lorcán felt smoke fill his lungs again, prompting a cough as he took a step forward towards Aurora again. He knew she wasn’t his Aurora though and he felt himself starting to freeze, he felt worse the further he got from the fire.

“Please, Lorcán, come with me,” The psychopomp sounded eerily like Aurora as she pleaded.

“I can't lose you.”

Two days had come and gone since Lorcán had been transferred to his private room. A nurse had been in each day to change out his bandages but the wound underneath continued to look worse despite the salve. The veins in his arms had become blue while the skin spreading outward from the wound became darker and darker, the lacerations turning nearly black. The smell of the wound itself was absolutely putrid, nearly causing both Ripley and Cassander to gag on multiple occasions.

Aiden had convinced Tori to walk back to their apartment for a decent rest while both Ripley and Cassander had returned to class. That left Aurora alone at Lorcán’s side while the young man continued to slip in and out of consciousness. Even when he was conscious, Lorcán was rarely coherent, the fever and infection in his body leaving him in states of delirium.

Rothschild had joined Aurora and was curled up beside the girl on the small sofa adjacent to Lorcán’s bed. Tori had been ensuring the girl still was getting what sleep she could, eating and had plenty to eat. In a bittersweet way, it seemed that Lorcán’s mother had been enjoying having both Aurora and Ripley around, treating the pair as if they were both her own daughter having never had the chance to properly care for girls before.

The days had started to blur together.

Aurora couldn’t tell you how long she’d been sitting there, watching as her best friend fought for every breath he took. She felt absolutely helpless, but there was nothing to be done but wait. Her hands were tied, and that in itself was debilitating. But she found solace in staying by Lorcán’s side, keeping him company even if he didn’t realize it. She didn’t want him to be alone, and knew he’d do the same if the roles were reversed.

The redhead leafed through her book as she sat on the sofa, mindlessly running her fingers through Rothschild’s soft coat as she attempted to distract herself. She looked up from the words on the page every few minutes, as if she didn’t believe the consistent and metronomic beeping of the monitors. For once, the girl opted not to have her headphones in, the sound of Lorcán’s heartbeat the only thing she wanted to hear.

Needed to hear.

Rothschild let out a small whimper, lifting his head to look at Lorcán before exhaling impatiently and placing his head back on Aurora’s lap, pushing his brow under her palm as if to demand more affection from the girl. His head suddenly snapped to the side, the dog’s black lips curling upwards as a half snarl was caught in his throat only to disappear, replaced by a happily wagging tail as Aurora’s eyes were drawn to a man who had somehow entered the room.

He stood there for a second, as if just as lost about how he ended up in the small private room. A hand decorated with a signet ring rubbed over his smooth, bald head before he tugged on the blazer of his suit, turning to greet Aurora with a smile.

“Apologies for the intrusion, Miss Mitchell,” The man bowed humbly, “I rarely get much say in it.” He vaguely explained before turning to Lorcán unconscious form laid out on the bed beside him. An outstretched hand gently hovering over the bandages, as the man examined the boy with a familiarity that should have made Aurora uncomfortable. His nose wrinkled in protest at the odour coming from the decaying flesh before he took a step back and once again straightened the neatly pressed suit he wore.

“Ah,” He stated knowing, “I see my grandson has run into some trouble in the Northern Forest,” Jonas concluded, looking all too nonchalant about the entire situation. “Have they tried a salve of crushed chrysanthemums? It should help slow the spread.” He added, taking a seat across from Aurora before crossing his legs.

“And how are you, Miss Mitchell holding up? I imagine seeing him there like this isn’t the start to your final year that you had hoped.”

Aurora nearly jumped out of her seat, startled by the man’s sudden appearance, her novel falling to the floor with a dull thud. Gasping, her hand had moved to rest over her heart, pulse having skyrocketed. “Dr. Lehrer,” She breathed, recognizing him instantly with confusion in her gaze. However, it dissolved quickly, her conversation with Lorcán from the other day coming to mind, remembering that his spontaneous emergence happened from time to time. “I guess this is how everyone else feels when I just teleport in… I gotta stop doing that.” She stated, more to herself than to him.

The redhead watched as the older man examined Lorcán, raising an eyebrow at his neutral expression. She would have assumed he’d be just as torn up about this as the rest of Lorcán’s family, given how close she knew they were, asking questions and wanting answers. But at his mention of the Northern Forest, she realized that Jonas likely knew something that they didn’t, and nodded in response.

“I’m not sure what they’ve tried, but I’ll ask the nurse when she comes in to check in on him.” Aurora replied, leaning down and picking up her book and setting it on her lap. She reached out towards Rothschild and began petting him once more, seeking comfort as she spoke. “It’s been a rough couple of days,” She admitted, the bruise on her face, which had begun to fade, seemed to warm at the thought of the Trial on top of Lorcán getting injured. “I’m trying to stay strong, for him and for his family, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was scared.” Her blue eyes drifted over to his unconscious form, sadness in them evident.

“How much do you know?”

“I know many things, some that can ease suffering and many that are irrelevant.” Jonas replied, “But I am vowed to also allow the natural course to proceed, I am not of this here and now nor is this my place to interfere.” His expression softened, as he reached a sympathetic hand forward toward Aurora.

“And I know, that is unbearably difficult to hear. From where you’re sitting, I have all the answers and the means to save his life, to spare all of you the pain, the anxiety and the worry.” Jonas squeezed Aurora’s hand, “But truthfully, child, I unfortunately am not the one who can save him. Another still has a role to play and so the river continues to flow, no matter how many times I step foot into it, it continues to move around me.”

The redhead felt her eyes start to water, unable to stop the flow of tears that began to slowly fall over her freckled cheeks. It was cruel, that Jonas seemingly had all of the answers and yet, he held them just out of reach. But as angry as it made her, she knew it wasn’t his intention to do so. Aurora removed her hand from his and stood, not wanting the older man to watch her cry, and walked over to stand by the bed where Lorcán lay.

His tanned skin was dull, devoid of his usual sunkissed glow, and he looked fragile lying there, normally so strong and sturdy. “I can’t lose him Dr. Lehrer,” She almost whispered, resting her hand on the edge of the bed. “I thought he left me, during the Trial, and I truly didn’t know how I was going to go on.” The girl looked up at the older man, “He’s all I have.”

“Lorcán is suffering, his family is suffering.” She swallowed, “If I could switch places with him, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“My child, I do not mean to be cruel,” Jonas replied, “I practically see you as family, much like my beloved Aiden and Victoria. Not to mention, my grandson.” He stood, walking over to Lorcán again, “But switching places with him would not lessen the suffering, do you think fewer people care for you?” He asked, looking back at Aurora.

“The only thing that would change is that he was there and you were here,” He motioned, “Aiden, Victoria, Ripley, Cassander, they would all be here worried and anxious for your well-being. That’s not including the rest of your teammates, Miss Baxter especially would likely be researching everything she could to find a cure.” He paused,

“Nor your own mother,” Jonas added, “Lorcán would have moved heaven and earth to ensure she was here if the fates were turned. No, the suffering most certainly would not be less.”

He clutched his chest, before he suddenly disappeared and then reappeared again.

“Oh Miss A, I’m afraid our time has come to a close.” Jonas stated, vibrating again, “If I could leave you with one thing, after he wakes up, just-” And then Jonas was gone, his sentence unfinished and Aurora was again left alone with only Rothschild who let out a small whimper before putting his head down between his front paws.

“Hey ‘Rora, I’ve got some time between classes, can I grab you a snack?” Ripley burst into the room, barely looking up from her phone as she asked the question. The older girl's lack of immediate response was enough to draw her attention upward.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Aurora quickly wiped at her tears, not wanting the younger girl to witness her losing her composure. She didn’t even have time to process everything that Jonas had said, all of his words rattling around in her head, more questions swirling in tandem. “I’m fine,” She deflected, knowing that Ripley wasn’t clued in to the older gentleman’s ability to show up from beyond the metaphorical grave. “Yeah, I should probably eat something, a snack would be good.” She mustered a smile, hoping it didn’t come off as forced as it felt. “Thanks, Rips.”

Turning around, Ripley ran out the door, her face colliding with that of another as a mess of red hair was pushed into her mouth before she managed to spit it out.

“Geez ‘Rora, you need to warn a girl before you teleport-” Ripley scolded before realizing that neither the hair nor the face belonged to Aurora.

“My apologies, friend, I just wanted to check on the boy from the forest.” The redheaded woman replied.

“You’re Alyssa right?” Ripley asked the familiar looking woman. “The one who found him?”

“Myself and Lucille Calder,” Alyssa replied.

“You really didn't see what attacked him?” Ripley asked as Alyssa's eyes darted to the left, before she nervously bit her bottom lip.

“I’d love to tell you the whole truth, but I can't.” Alyssa replied. “I hope he gets well soon.” She offered solemnly while backing into the hallway before spinning on her heels and heading in the opposite direction.

Ripley looked towards the vending machine remembering the snack she promised Aurora before opting to follow Alyssa.

Hanging back, she watched as Alyssa ducked into a room before silently slipping down the hallway and peeking into the room to see Alyssa alongside another young woman who she assumed had to be the woman who helped her bring Lorcán in.

Reaching to the side of her head, Ripley took a hold of her ear before taking a deep breath and giving it a tug. It popped off with less resistance than she anticipated before peeking around the corner again. Neither Alyssa nor her blonde companion noticed her and Ripley took the opportunity to quickly lob her detached ear across the room watching it land on a sofa cushion. Focusing on her ear, Ripley began to hear Alyssa’s conversation.

"If the cousin is asking questions, then Aurora will start soon too. Blackjack has a history of...prying."

Luce shook away memories of campfire soul-spilling and peer-pressured revelations.

"Lucille Calder, you know I can't abide lying." Alyssa retorted. "We should divulge the whole truth, even if they don't understand."

"It's not about understanding. They just won't believe us."

"We go to a school for people with superpowers. Ellara is wrong - they're more open minded than she says, they'll listen."

Luce pinched the bridge of her nose. In a way, this clash of perspectives was why they'd survived their 'gap year' so well, and continued to be such a steadfast pair. In other ways, it irritated Luce, especially when Alyssa held her to account. Being back at PRCU made Luce antsy, and she was certain Alyssa could see it.

"Superpowers are one thing - there's plenty of science to back it up. But there's no literature on Limbo, Ünterland, wendigos, or anything else we encountered in the last five years." She sighed, absent-mindedly drifting her fingers over one of the many scars that criss-crossed her skin, most of which she'd picked up during the pair's adventures in their time away.

'Good thing you can heal' indeed.

"Look. If you want to march in there and tell Aurora her boyfriend is dying because a wendigo infected him and is now attempting to devour his soul and turn him into the very same ravenous monster that we'll then have to put in the ground just like the first one, then you go right ahead. But it won't make a difference. The fight's up to Lorcán now. You'll just incite panic."

"He's not her boyfriend."

"Whatever! It doesn't matter!" Luce replied, exasperated and half-yelling, throwing her hands up. "If we want to fix this, we need Ellara. Can you get her back here?"

"She left me enough to make a summoning rune, I can get her attention."

Ripley ducked out of sight as the pair exited. Running into the room, she retrieved her ear before bursting into Lorcán’s room finding Cass had joined Aurora. They turned to look at her while Ripley looked from Cass to Aurora and then Aurora to Cass and back again.

“Do either of you know what a wendigo is?”

“You love these wings don’t you?” The man asked, looming over Haven running a hand through her feathers, tugging at them and caressing them. “The very thing that marks you as a Hyperhuman, as a sub-class, as a freak, you’ve found pride in them, how interesting.” A snort echoed through the room followed by a slight snicker before the man in the dingy lab coat continued to speak.

“How inspiring,” He cackled, “Where are my manners, I am Daedalus, the architect of a future of a world full of Hyperhumans who have pushed the boundaries of their evolution.” Daedalus boasted, a smug smile plastered over his face. “It’s a real shame you aren’t all as cooperative as Subject V, I could make you truly beautiful, Haaaveeen.” He dropped his tone to whisper, the way he said her name causing Haven’s blood to curdle in her veins before Daedalus gently wiped the back of his hand against her cheek, smearing Haven’s tears with sweat, grime and blood.

“Would you like to meet Subject V?” The madman asked Haven, spinning the girl around so that her gaze fell on the assembled remains of a person.”She’s beautiful isn’t she?” He asked Haven before softly caressing the skull of the woman’s remains.

“In another lifetime, she was known as Vanessa Bordeaux, the first victim of the Crestwood Killer. But what most people fail to stop and ask is, why Vanessa? Why was she targeted instead of, say, her brother?” Daedalus asked, looking at Haven as though he was engaging in a back-and-forth with the gagged young woman. “Vanessa Bordeaux had a Hyperhuman ability never since seen, the ability to imbue virumosis in another. Yes,” He stopped, pausing dramatically before continuing.

“She could create Hyperhumans. Did nobody ever wonder why all of Vanessa’s closest friends were Hyperhumans?” The man simply laughed to himself as though Haven had told him a hysterical joke.

“But thankfully Vanessa’s gifts carry on and we were able to exhume the body and recover enough DNA to replicate the effects of her abilities in others.” He smiled wickedly.

“Even in other Hyperhumans.”

He danced almost gleefully before gesturing to the syringes lined up nearby.

“By introducing trauma into the body and suppressing the existing Hype-Gene, we are able to force a new mutation whereby the Hype-Gene completely changes classifications to compensate. We can further accelerate the process by introducing DNA from subjects A and Y.” Daedalus proudly explained to the hostage Haven. “Though the true key was unlocked from Subject 00, the only one who evER GOT AWAY!” He roared, his mood once again changing on a dime before Daedalus kicked over a nearby light and sent a tray of instruments flying across the even more poorly lit room.

“HOW DARE THEY TAKE HER FROM ME!” He roared, “How dare they tell me to stop, what I was doing was for the benefit of us all! I am our saviour!” Daedalus was practically foaming at the mouth, jumping up on the gurney and leaning over Haven, spittle flying from his mouth every time he hit a dental sound and his tongue clicked against his stained teeth.

“Shh, shh, shh,” His tone softened as he stroked Haven’s face again before gently climbing off the gurney. “There’s no need to worry, Haaaveeen,” Daedalus soothed, looking down at the girl fondly.

“I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

Rory's head felt heavy as the bleary fog of waking up clouded his senses. It took him a few moments to notice his phone alarm had gone off. He pulled back the covers, trying to be careful of Haven's wings as he slid out of bed to silence the alarm. His eyes shifted to the open window, and then to the bright sky. He looked down at his phone, startled by the time. This wasn't his first alarm… this was an emergency one he set to remind himself to take a shower before class. His eyes shifted back to the bed, ready to wake Haven up. But she wasn't there.

Rory's vision was blurry as he rubbed the weariness out of his eyes. At first, he was hurt. They had made a habit out of going for a morning jog together. Though, the pain turned to guilt. He had lied to her, perhaps she needed time to think over everything. He sighed, resigning himself to take a shower and skip out on his morning workout. He slid on some boxers, and walked over to pick up a towel he left drying near the window from the day before. He nearly tripped into the wall, his foot aching slightly from stepping on something soft but firm. He looked down towards his feet.

Haven's shoes were still there.

And so was her bag.

Rory dropped the towel he had managed to snag, and rushed to his phone. He quickly unlocked it, and scrolled through his contacts. He hit Haven's number first. His heart plummeted as he heard a distinct buzzing coming from her bag. He ended the call, moving up a contact in his phone list. He tapped her name, and lifted the phone to his ear again.

As soon as he heard Harper pick up the phone, Rory's panicked voice practically screamed into the receiver. ”They took Haven! Right out of my room, middle of the night! She's gone! She fucking said it would happen! Bastards!”

Harper woke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest as the shrill sound of her alarm clock pierced the early morning silence. The blurry world around her slowly came into focus, and she squinted against the soft, golden glow of her desk lamp, which was still on from the night before. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from her mind and shake off the remnants of sleep. As she took a deep breath, the familiar scent of the sea mingled with the crisp morning air seeping through the slightly open window, bringing a soothing calm that began to ease her racing heart.

Harper’s desk was a chaotic landscape of crumpled notes, thick textbooks, and a collection of empty coffee cups, each one a clear sign of her marathon study session that had stretched well into the night. She had dozed off with her head resting on an open textbook, her notebook beside her filled with hastily scribbled equations and half-formed ideas, evidence of her frantic efforts to catch up. Despite the disarray, a small, satisfied smile played on her lips as she surveyed the scene. She had done it; she had finally caught up on all the work she had missed, and the sense of accomplishment was enough to make the mess seem almost beautiful.

Almost. She hadn’t quite lost her marbles yet.

Stifling a yawn, Harper got up and started cleaning up the mess, her thoughts drifting to the day ahead. She had planned to spend it shopping with some members of her team, hoping the lighthearted activity would relieve their individual stresses and help her reconnect with specific ones like Katja. The last time they’d talked, Katja had seemed burdened, and Harper hoped this outing might help uncover those issues, which were bound to be compounded thanks to the trials. However, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of her mind. What if the outing didn’t go as planned? What if Katja’s burdens were too heavy to be lightened by a simple day out?

As if in answer to these worries, her phone buzzed on the desk, and as Harper reached for it, her eyebrow arched in surprise at the name displayed on the screen. Rory was not one to reach out casually, and their interactions had always been sporadic at best. So why was he calling her of all people now? Curiosity piqued, she swiped to answer, a greeting already forming on her lips. However, she was quickly interrupted by the panicked voice on the other end and the words spewing out of it, her hands almost dropping her phone in the process.

“Rory, calm down. Tell me exactly what happened,” she said, her voice steady but urgent. She could hear the rapid, shallow breaths on the other end, a clear sign of Rory’s distress.

Rory took a moment to catch his breath, pacing through his room as he tried desperately to slow himself down. ”Haven’s been sleeping in my room. I just woke up, and she’s gone. The window was still open, her shoes and bag are still here. Both bags…” He paused for a second, a lingering fog still seeming to hang over him that he couldn’t quite shake. He shook his head, as if trying to shake it out. When it wouldn’t leave, he grunted before continuing. ”She said she was told Foundation students like her went missing.”

Harper’s pulse quickened, a wave of dread flooding her senses. This was it. This was her worst nightmare coming to life, the one terrifying thought that had haunted her ever since she and Haven had begun investigating the Foundation. The moment they had uncovered the disturbing truth about the missing students, a dark cloud of fear had settled over her, and now it seemed to be materializing.

Her mind raced, replaying every clue that her and Haven had gathered. Amma and Tiamat. She was now convinced they were separate names, if not separate entities, given the girl’s raw, unfiltered reactions during the trials. Harper suspected that Tiamat was intricately connected to Amma in some way. But whatever it was, her instincts told her that there was a good chance this connection extended to the ones responsible for Haven’s disappearance.

Then there was the missing student, whose abilities mirrored Haven’s, a similarity that had always unsettled her and hinted at a deeper, more dangerous conspiracy. It suggested a pattern, a deliberate and calculated selection process by Haven’s abductor, one that she couldn’t yet fully decipher. Why them? What was the motive behind targeting individuals with such specific abilities?

And finally, the faculty at PRCU, once revered as unwavering pillars of trust and guidance for Harper, had recently revealed themselves to be unreliable and shrouded in ambiguity. Their motives were cloaked in the same secrecy and deceit that Alyssa had hinted at, casting a long, dark shadow over the institution she had once held in the highest regard. This disillusionment had truly taken root after Amma’s cynical speech on the beach, where she had laid bare her view of the manipulations at play. However, it was Haven’s sudden disappearance now that was the final straw for the brunette, solidifying her growing mistrust.

Harper had always prided herself on her intolerance for incompetence, believing there was no excuse for it, especially in an institution that had weathered so much turmoil over the years. In her eyes, the trials had been a turning point, a moment that should have prompted the implementation of stringent safety measures to prevent any further incidents. Yet, here she was, grappling with the harsh reality that those she had placed her trust in had failed her once again, and in the most devastating way possible.

“Listen…” she began, her voice cutting through the heavy silence that had settled over the call. “I don’t know how much Haven told you, but we need to rely on ourselves now. We need to inform the team about everything. No teachers, not even O’Neil. We can’t trust them anymore.”

And when she considered those words further, she knew she couldn’t trust herself to handle this alone either. Not this time.

”That's not a good move.” His words were sudden, rushing out before he could think them through. He panicked. He couldn't tell Harper what was going on and what he was up to. He needed another excuse. ”Half the team is still down for the count. Lorc's out, Rora is checking on him, Gil doesn't need more stress… even Banjo has a bad leg.”

He paused, staring at the open window. He wanted to claw the surge of emotions out of his chest. But he took that moment to catch his breath. A weird realization dawned on him. ”Wait… have you and Haven been…” His voice trailed, as he didn't exactly know what they could be conspiring about. That didn't matter as much to him. ”Not important. But OK, let's say we don't let Jim know… How do you plan to find who took Haven?”

With each compelling reason stated, Harper felt the fragile hope inside her begin to give way to a growing sense of fear. Fear for the state of her team, whose cohesion now seemed precarious. Fear for the institution she had called her second home for the past year, a place that now felt like anything but. Most of all, fear for Haven, whose fate was shrouded in uncertainty. The gnawing dread of not knowing where her winged friend had been taken, or if she was even still….

Harper pushed back the tears that pricked at her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“I don’t…know,” she said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. In that moment, she felt small and overwhelmed, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the phone tighter, seeking some semblance of control. Closing her eyes briefly to gather her scattered thoughts, she added, “Maybe there’s something we can find. Some…clue.”

Rory sighed into the receiver. He had hoped that, as per usual, Harper would have the answer. Or anyone, for that matter. But no. More mysteries, more collusion, more secrets. And Rory Tyler was left trying to hold himself together as everything crushed in around him. He shook his head slowly, trying to compose his thoughts.

”Canis Dorms. Come take a look, see if you and your Elf eyes can see something. I'll throw on some clothes. Then we let the team know.”

Rory’s voice was haggard and flat. He stared blankly at a pile of clean clothes he hadn't bothered to fold. Without much warning, he hung up. He didn't have any more words to say. He tossed on an old t-shirt and some wrinkled jeans, leaving his room to settle on the common area's couch. He sat straight, staring at the blank TV without focusing on anything.

When she heard the frustrated sigh on the other end, Harper felt a sharp pang of guilt for not having the answers they both so desperately wanted and needed. She knew it would be better not to dwell on her shortcomings, and in any other circumstance, this would have been easy for her to do. But now…it was so damn hard. The whole situation pressed heavily on her, making it difficult to push past her feelings of inadequacy. Biting her lip, she forced herself to move once Rory hung up, grabbing her hoodie and throwing it over her tank top. She shoved on a pair of jeans with trembling hands, each movement a struggle against the overwhelming sense of helplessness that threatened to paralyze her just like it had during the trials.

Only this time there was no Lorcán to save her.

Once she arrived at the Canis dormitory, she found Rory sitting on the common area couch, staring blankly at the dark, unlit TV as if it might suddenly offer some answers. He looked more defeated than she had ever seen him, his shoulders slumped and eyes vacant, lost in a sea of troubling thoughts.

“Rory,” Harper said softly, her voice gentle as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, hoping to snap him out of his headspace.

Rory jolted at Harper's touch, a moment of shock before he returned to seeming a bit dulled. Lost might be a better word for it, though. His eyes darted, his heart raced, and his breathing was shallow. As he looked up at Harper, any semblance of the Rory she had known was absent. He stood up and walked towards his room, opening the door for Harper and motioning inside. ”Tell me what you see,” he ordered, an unusual gravitas to his demeanor that was often lacking. It was his voice, but it didn't feel like his words.

The room was cleaner than he usually kept it, but kept with his usual chaotic disorganization. Sporting equipment had been haphazardly shoved under the bed. A pile of clothes in a laundry basket were relatively freshly washed, but still unfolded. The walls were decorated in pictures from his time in PRCU, along with wall adverts for various games and events he had been to that would usually hang on pin up boards around campus. Haven's clutter was mixed with his, some of her clothes and notebooks mixed in with his around the room. Rory stood in the doorway. He didn't want to disturb the scene more than he already had. He rubbed a soreness in his neck, watching Harper carefully.

Harper followed Rory into his room, her mind instinctively activating her ability the moment she stepped inside, as if it too sensed the urgency of the situation. Almost immediately, a sharp spike of pain shot through her head, causing her to wince and deactivate her powers. The sudden intensity of the pain was overwhelming, and she pressed her hand to her forehead, her vision blurring momentarily.

As panic threatened to rise within her, Harper did her best to stabilize her breathing and regain her composure. She focused intently on the rhythmic in-and-out of her breaths, willing herself to push through the discomfort that clouded her mind. Gradually, she felt the panic begin to recede, though the confusion still lingered, a stubborn fog that refused to lift. Nonetheless, she turned her head, waving the other off with a shaky hand. “I’m okay,” she said, more to reassure herself than Rory. The words felt hollow, but she clung to them, regardless, a joke forming on her lips. “Forgot to warm up,” she added with a weak smile, hoping a touch of humour might lighten the heavy atmosphere and ease the tension that gripped them both.

Harper's pain and confusion shook Rory from his stupor, his hand instinctively reaching up to settle on her shoulder and give it a light squeeze. His face, formerly devoid of feeling, was washed in concern. He hadn't checked in on her the past few days, and given what he had seen… it was cruel to have to involve her in anything so soon. Guilt welled up inside, before dissipating. Harper would have kicked the shit out of him if he didn't involve her immediately.

”Take your time, Hawkeye.” He flashed a weak smile, panic and fear plain as day behind the facade. He gave Harper's shoulder another squeeze, taking a step back. He hovered in the doorway, before he simply shook his head and took a step back towards her. ”If you need me to, I can do it for-”

Harper shook her head firmly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“It’s fine. I’ve got this,” she insisted, determined to see this through herself. Taking a deep, calming breath, she reactivated her vision, this time bracing herself for the inevitable pain. She let it roll over her in waves, accepting it rather than fighting against it. As the discomfort surged through her, the room around her came into sharp focus, every detail crystal clear. The textures of the furniture, the subtle shifts in light, and even the faintest movement became vividly apparent.

Harper’s eyes moved to the window first, noting the subtle marks on the sill where the intruders had likely gained entry. The faint scratches and scuffs told a silent story of their stealthy approach. She followed the barely visible shoeprints that trailed from the window to the bed, where the sheets were rumpled and an indentation marked the spot where Haven had been sleeping. The scene painted a vivid picture of the intrusion. “There were three of them, I think, judging by both the quantity and differences in each print,” she described, pointing at the window. She then turned to meet Rory’s eyes, her gaze intense and unwavering. “They got in through the window.”

Something gave her pause then, Harper’s eyes immediately moving to her friend’s neck. A small, reddish mark stood out starkly against his skin—a needle mark, undoubtedly from a syringe filled with something to stop him from interfering. A sedative, perhaps? Or something else she would have to be concerned about? The possibilities were endless without seeing the chemical for herself. Either way, Rory seemed physically okay so far, at least. Still, she found her hands reaching up, tapping the mirrored spot on her own neck as if to check for a similar mark.

Although that was as likely as this entire thing being one very unfunny joke.

“They did something to you. Do you…feel anything?”

Rory reached up to rub the spot on his neck again, recalling a strange soreness. ”I… felt foggy when I woke up. Slept through a couple alarms I think.” He looked to the window, then the floor. Three people came in through his window… kept him knocked out and took Haven. This was a coordinated effort. A team.

Rory sighed. ”I'll let everyone know. You think you can get us a trail or something?

In answer to his question, Harper walked over to the window and glanced outside, her eyes meticulously scanning the sill and the surrounding area. Bent bushes and faint trails in the grass hinted at the intruders’ escape route, a subtle but telling sign of their hurried departure. She leaned out, following the path with her eyes as far as she could, piecing together the direction they had taken.

“I can see it,” she said, her voice tinged with a newfound determination. The feeling that she’d lost for a bit in her room came rushing back tenfold.

Hope.

Rory whipped out his cracked smartphone, pulling up the group chat. His message was short and simple. He didn’t care if this was a trap. He didn’t care if this was all part of the traitor’s plan. He had to try.

>Haven’s been kidnapped all hands Canis Dorms ASAP.<

With the text sent, Rory quickly yanked one of his duffel bags out from under his bed, tossing it onto the bed and shoving a spare set of clothes and a couple water bottles into the bag. He felt something roll into his foot, looking down to see an old baseball bat of his. He hesitated as he looked at it, before quickly reaching down and wrapping his fingers around the grip. He lifted it up into his hands, knuckles white as he gripped it tight. His face returned to its former blank expression. He tossed it into the duffel bag, zipped it up, and slung it over his shoulder as he slipped on some shoes and headed for the door.

Having sedated Haven again, Daedalus moved to a sink to scrub up for the procedure. Pained groans from his other subject echoed from a covered cage nearby eliciting a snicker of amusement from Daedalus as he looked around the labyrinth-like sub-basement that lurked beneath the Academic Quadrangle. This area was off-limits to staff and students alike, having been condemned due to flooding in the foundation years ago. Previously used by Isabella Christianson as a lab while she was in the employ of Yakob Kowalski, it had since been locked up while the Academic Quadrangle had been lifted onto a new foundation through a feat of Hyperhuman ingenuity.

That left the sub-basement disconnected and completely vulnerable to rats such as Daedalus.

Behind him, seated around a small card table were the three Hyperhumans in his employ, his agents who carried out the retrieval and disposal. They sat there content with a couple of bottles shared between them and a greasy pizza from who knows where. Cards in hard, wagering bottle caps from pillaged Hyper-Aid.

“Gentlemen, and lady,” Daedalus interrupted, leaning over the table, “I’ve put the girl down for a sleep, nothing worse than operating on an anxious subject. In the meantime, I should like to drain the boy of his blood, where have you placed the body?”

“The boy?” The first man asked only for the woman across the table to shoot him a glare. Massaging his temples, Daedalus took a deep breath before explaining.

“When I sent you to capture Haaaveeen, you said there was a boyfriend. As we can’t afford witnesses, I told you to kill him and bring me the body. Her boyfriend contains the very blood type we need to continue these experiments, it would be comparable to Subject Y except more readily accessible. Now, where’s the body?”

Two blank stares met Daedalus’ face as the woman began to shrink in her seat, her glare intensifying.

“We didn’t bring no body.” One of the men stated as the other eagerly agreed.

“Yeah, we injected him with the sedative, same as the girl and left him there so as not to arouse suspicion over two missing students.”

“You left a witness?” Daedalus snapped only for the one male to shake his head.

“No, he was sedated, he didn’t see anything.”

“You were supposed to use the poison.” The woman snapped, suddenly growing bold enough to speak only for a stern eye from Daedalus to quiet her again.

“Oh,” The first man replied, the realization suddenly dawning on him.

“Right,” The second man interjected, “Oh, right. The poison. The poison for the boy, the poison chosen especially to kill the boy, the boy’s poison.”

Reaching down to the discarded belt and bag, Daedalus picked up the syringe loaded with the poison, holding it up as if to prove his point before driving it into the neck of the second man. Injecting the syringe, he watched with a cruel sneer as the man’s eyes rolled back into his head, foam appearing at the mouth before blood poured out of his eyes and ears.

“What did-” The first man protested only to find a pair of blood-stained gloved hands on either side of his head. The last thing he heard was the sickening snap of his own neck before his lifeless body slumped into the chair and landed hard on the table.

The click of a gun caused Daedalus to pause as the woman managed to stand and draw her weapon before the madman turned on her too. The twisted surgeon simply smiled as he threw his arms wide.

“Oh please, please shoot-” The sound of the gunshot echoed through the thick concrete walls as Daedalus looked down to see a patch of crimson quickly pooling beneath his clothing. He laughed wickedly before an ethereal-like form discarded the body, the wispy blue essence swirling through the air before merging into the woman’s body. She staggered backwards for a few seconds before cracking her neck.

“Please shoot me.” She laughed looking down at the weapon and holstering it. Looking at their previous body, Daedalus smiled wickedly before skipping away merrily from the corpses. Wheeling their supplies on the nearby transportation pad, Daedalus rounded up their samples and victims before taking one last look at Haven.

“I told you, I won’t let anyone take you from me.” She sneered before pressing a button that set off a chain reaction of small explosives. Water from springs within the island began to rapidly flood the sub-basement as Daedalus and his experiments were whisked away by the transportation pad leaving Haven to suffer a watery grave.

“You’re not Aurora,” Lorcán protested before the molten-eyed boy pulled back as the psychopomp became more insistent, leading him further from the fire as he body became colder and colder.

“I can’t go with you, you’re not my Aurora,” He repeated, looking through the smoke towards the dark canopy overhead, “I heard her, I need to get back to her.” Lorcán cupped his hands over his mouth before yelling.

“AURORA!” It was only met with the screams of creatures barely held at bay by the quickly residing fires.

“You’re going to break her heart if you leave,” The shade of Aurora argued, holding a hand out for Lorcán to take.

“I’m going to break her heart if I stay,” Lorcán argued, “I have to get out of here, I’ve been gone too long.”

“I know the way out, I promise you, I can show you the way.” The psychopomp urged, holding out her hand again, “I only want to help you, Lorcán. Just take my hand and this can all be over,” The took a step back, pushing her hand out further, “Please, Lorcán just take my hand and put an end to all this suffering.”

But Lorcán shook his head, turning to run before he tripped. The forest around him seemingly disappeared, the heat of the fire was replaced by the warmth of the sun. He toppled forward, falling for what felt like an eternity before falling through a glassy surface. Water splashed over his face, the familiar smell of the ocean washing over him as Aurora’s giggles filled his ears.

“I told you I can’t balance.” She stated, pushing her own wet hair back from her face. Lorcán’s heart skipped a beat as the sun refracted on the gold heart pendant, water droplets collecting on her skin, slowly following the subtle curve of her collarbone before disappearing between her bosom and into the sea.

Her smile was warm and mischievous, accented by her delicate jawline and heart-shaped face. Blue eyes like the sky above lit up with amusement as Lorcán steadied the board and held it again for her.

“One more time, Lady Dude, no more clam dragging, we’re getting you upright on this board.” Waiting until Aurora was kneeling on the surfboard, Lorcán clambered up behind her, gently placing his hands on her waist. His breathing quickened as his hands touched her bare sides, ensuring he kept them above her waist while keeping his arms from wandering beyond the small of her back.

Slowly, he moved his hands upwards, pushing water droplets aside as he traced her sides before joining their hands and slowly bringing her arms outward. A few playful squeaks and squeals escaped Aurora as she swayed slightly only for Lorcán to steady the board.

“You’re tickling me,” She managed to spit out in the midst of her fit of giggles.

“Not intentionally,” Lorcán replied before Aurora suddenly spun around and danced her fingers along the male’s ribcage. Lorcán reflexively pulled his arms in, as he twisted to get away before feeling two hands firmly plant on his back and he was launched back into the shallows again.

Shaking his long hair, Lorcán sprayed Aurora with a fresh shower of water before taking hold of the surfboard and tipping it. The sudden motion sent Aurora toppling from the board before she found herself caught in Lorcán’s arm, noticing for the first time just how big his biceps actually were.

“You caught me?” She asked, her ribs hurt from laughing as she looked curiously up to Lorcán’s face only for a pearly white smirk to come as the reply. The young man quickly lowered his arms, dunking Aurora under the surface as the girl squealed in protest, splashing as hard as she could before Lorcán let her free as she scrambled back to shore.

“I don’t think surfing is for me,” She called, “But that looks like a great wave, why don’t you show me how you’d do it?” Aurora gestured towards the horizon as the swells began to pick up.

The acrid smell of smoke returned as Lorcán’s nostrils flared. He turned to the swells, watching a wall of fire engulf the horizon and spread across the shallows as it raced toward shore. Getting out of the water, Lorcán ran across the beach only to find himself back in the forest, a scream echoing behind him.

“Aurora?” Lorcán called into the empty forest.

“Sorry, dude,” A voice replied as Lorcán turned to see a different woman leaning against a tree. “You’re stuck with me now,”

“And how are you supposed to show me comfort, brah?” Lorcán retorted to the shade as she stepped out of the shadow. She pulled down her hood, allowing her vibrant red hair to spill over her shoulders before holding out her hand and igniting the air into a blade of plasma.

“We’re past comfort,” Ryan smiled, “Now is time for a lesson in letting go.”

Ripley’s question had hung in the room for a few seconds before Cassander broke the silence.
“Where did you hear that word?” He asked, as Ripley sheepishly shifted from one high top clad foot to the other.

“Do you know what it means?” She asked, avoiding the question as Cass raised an eyebrow before shaking his head.

“Not really no, I mean, I know what I think it means but you’re now the second person to bring that up.” He replied referring to his trip with Aiden. “I think it’s some kind of creature, I did a quick search and it comes from a Native American myth but nothing I turned up really explained what’s happening with Roth.”

He looked through his shaggy blonde bangs, his green eyes studying Ripley’s body language. She had clearly done something she wasn’t supposed to have.

“So I ask again, where did you hear the term?”

“Uh,” Ripley’s voice trailed off a bit while her eyes looked to Aurora for an ally. “I may have followed that Alyssa girl instead of getting that snack for ‘Rora.” Ripley muttered, “And I may have thrown my ear into a room to eavesdrop on her and Luce…” She paused, turning back to Cass accusingly.

“Wait!” She snapped, “Where did you hear it?” Cass let out a sigh, it wasn’t that he was purposefully withholding information, it was that Aiden had asked him to remain vague about their trip to the Northern Peninsula lest all of Blackjack suddenly go up there looking for clues.

“When Aiden and I were in the forest, we encountered a woman named Ellara, it was her who told us about the salve and she mentioned a wendigo.”

“Luce and Alyssa were talking about reaching out to an ‘Ellara’, do you think it’s the same person?”

“How many people do you know named Ellara?” Cass snarked, prompting Aurora to interject.

“Not the time, Cass.” But her face contorted into one of confusion as she backtracked, going back to what he had said previously. “Wait, salve? What salve?”

“Ellara mentioned a salve made of crushed chrysanthemums would slow the infection, and Uncle Aiden had one made when we got back two days ago. But unfortunately, it didn’t have any effect.” Cass replied, running a hand through his hair. “It was pretty unconventional, so Uncle Aiden wanted to keep it pretty quiet.”

Aurora’s eyes went wide, “Chrysanthemums?” She blurted, “Jonas told me that a salve of crushed chrysanthemums would slow the spread, it didn’t work?” The girl shook her head in disbelief, the older man’s words from before coming back to her.

“Jonas?!”

Both Cass and Ripley repeated the name at the same time before looking to Aurora for an answer, Cass taking the lead once again.

“When you say Jonas, you just mean a student right?” He asked, “You’re not talking about Aiden’s mentor Jonas, former Chancellor, suspected Hyperion, tainted legacy Jonas?”

“Leo always referred to him as his grandpa,” Ripley interjected, before Cass shot her a look. “Well he did,” She argued as Cass rolled his eyes.

“Either way, that Jonas is dead,” Cass retorted, turning back to Aurora, “So who is this new Jonas?”

Realization crossed the redhead’s features.

“You don’t know… do you.” She breathed, remembering a few seconds too late that Lorcán had only just found out about the late Chancellor’s ability to show up posthumously, and Tori and Aiden had kept it quiet prior to that for a reason. The looks on Cass and Ripley’s faces said it all, and she cursed under her breath, running a hand through her copper locks, perplexed and a little distressed that she had revealed this secret instead of them.

“No, I’m talking about Jonas Jonas, as in Dr. Lehrer, Jonas.” Aurora bit her lip, trying to find the right words to explain it properly. She sincerely hoped Lorcán’s parents wouldn’t be angry with her, she couldn’t wait to have that conversation with them. “He’s dead but he’s also… not. I don’t know how to phrase this correctly.” Taking a breath, she tried her best.

“Jonas he, he can travel to different points in time, but he doesn’t exactly control where he goes. So yes, he’s dead, but past versions of him are, well, not.” The girl looked at Ripley, “You just asked me if I had seen a ghost, it was because Jonas paid me a visit a few minutes ago. Took one look at Lorcán and knew exactly what had happened without me needing to tell him, but couldn’t reveal anything other than to try a salve of crushed chrysanthemums.”

Aurora conveniently left out the part where she had told Jonas she’d switch places with Lorcán in a heartbeat, and the subsequent lecture.

“Aiden can explain more about it when he’s back, just let me apologize to him first for being the one to break the news.”

“I think the only way any of that is going to make sense is when I’ve had at least three drinks in me.” Cass replied with both hands pushing on either side of his head. He shook his head several times still trying to wrap his mind around exactly what Aurora had just said.

A small knock on the door interrupted the three as their conversation came to an abrupt halt. Turning to the door, a woman dressed in scrubs and a face mask held up a clipboard with Lorcán’s chart on it before stepping in.

“I just need to check on the patient,” She stated, Cass’ ears piquing at her voice. “I’ll just be a sec if you all don’t mind stepping out of the room so I can do a full examination.”

Cass looked at the woman again, her emerald eyes locking with his before she gave him a small wink and closed the door.

“How did Luce and Alyssa say they were getting in contact with Ellara?” Cass asked, interrupting Ripley as she struck up another conversation with Aurora.

“I didn’t understand to be honest with you,” Ripley replied, “Something about a summoning charm? Rune? I don’t know, it sounded like they were talking about witchcraft or gibberish at that point.”

“Stay with Aurora,” He ordered, “And shoot me a text when that ‘doctor’ leaves Lorcán,” He added before rushing away without an explanation. If Ellara was already in that room then he had no doubt that the other two were nearby, or at least one of them.

Rounding a corner, Cass saw the flowing locks of red hair leaning against the next adjacent wall just outside of the rooms in the secure wing..

“Townsend!” Cass yelled, causing Alyssa to jump, turning to see her classmate. “Townsend, why is Ellara in my cousin’s room?”

“You know my cousin?” Alyssa asked, “Wait, are you the blonde boy with cute eyes?”

“She said that?”

“She also said you were a moron.”

“Yeah, she said that,” Cass replied, “Still doesn’t explain why she’s in Lorcán’s room.”

“Ellara Van Abrams is the only chance we have to save your cousin from death.”

“Was the only chance you had to save your cousin.” A voice replied from behind Cassander as Ellara made herself known. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” She said with a small smile to Cass, before looking between both him and Alyssa.

“Your friend, cousin, whatever he is, he’s a goner. There’s nothing more I can do for him now.” She stated. “In a human, his Ünterseele would have already begun to devour his Überseele and the transformation would be irreversible.” Ellara shook her head, letting out a small curse that Alyssa didn’t recognize before the older woman continued speaking.

“But even as a Hyperhuman, even with the Einseele,” Ellara paused, “It’d still be a kindness to kill him now, the death he’s going to experience is far more painful than the transformation ever would be.”

“His unter and uber what?”

“What do they teach at this school?” Ellara asked with a raised eyebrow while turning to Alyssa.

“We’re really not that kind of school, school has a bad case of the ‘mundies’ if you know what I mean,.” She replied,

“I have no idea what either of you are talking about!”

Ellara shot Alyssa an exasperated expression before she looked back at Cass.

“Under and over soul.” She elaborated before further explaining, “The Überseele, or oversoul is seated in the brain. It contains the thoughts, memories, and personality of an individual. The Ünterseele or undersoul is seated in the heart. It contains the appetites, emotions and fears of an individual. You Hyperhumans however have one ‘unified’ soul. It comes with a lot of benefits, but it also means for your friend he’s being ripped apart.” Ellara eyes locked with Cass’

“Where a human would either become a wendigo or other undead hellion, your cousin will become an empty vessel as his soul is completely devoured, and an empty vessel is the perfect host for something far worse than a wendigo. I suggest you mourn his loss now and destroy the body while you still can.” Ellara warned, “Because I can assure you, that whatever comes through that portal, will take more than this school combined to put down.”

“You can’t ask them to do that Ellara Van Abrams,” Alyssa began to plead before Cass spoke over her.

“Better yet, we’re not going to do that.”

“Then you’re fools who’ve already damned themselves.” Ellara snapped back, “I’ve already saved you twice, don’t expect me to come running back here if you choose not to heed my warning. A vessel void of a soul is a surefire way for something to break free of Limbo, and there’s a reason that those that dwell are neither welcome on this plane nor Ünterland.”

“So you’re just going to leave?” Cass replied.

“I told you, there’s nothing I can do here so unless you want me to kill your friend, then I’m leaving.” Ellara replied ditching the scrubs and taking her leather jacket back from Alyssa who had been holding it. Adjusting her weapon holsters before swinging the garment over her shoulders she looked at Cass.

“Look, I’m not unsympathetic to your plight, but this is a futile fight. I’m not giving up, I just know when I’m beat and unfortunately there are people out I can still save so I have to keep on the Path.” Turning to leave, Ellara paused one more time.

“I hope you two do listen to me, but in the highly likely chance you don’t,” She gave a small smile, “I’ll hope for a miracle.”

Cassander watched for a few moments longer as Ellara continued down the hallway before she was lost in the infirmary staff and visitors making their way through the hallway. Shaking his head he turned back to Alyssa.

“I should talk to Aurora.” She said, taking a step before being stopped by Cass.

“No,” He replied, “She needs to hear it from me, you’ve done enough, but it’s time we start bracing for the worst.” He stated, “I can’t believe we’re going to lose Lorcán.”

Cass turned to leave, waiting until he had rounded a corner out of sight from Alyssa before he ducked in an empty room and closed the door.

Even that wasn’t enough to cover the angry sobs that followed.

The shade of the thick canopy overhead offered a cool reprieve from the midday sun as it beamed down over the Pacific island. Though still a temperate climate, Miguel could feel small beads of sweat dotting his forehead as he slipped his long coat off his shoulders and swung it over a forearm.

The forest path was well trodden, little evidence would be found on the main passage that most students and faculty took. But the brush was disturbed off the path, and the Fist quickly found an area that had been more well trodden. Deep footprints from burdened bearers remained even days later. A dart remained behind on the ground, nestled in the tall grass illustrating the hurry and sloppiness of this conquest.

Daedalus was growing more desperate.

The click of a gun behind him gave Miguel momentary pause. His ability began to kick in as thousands of scenarios and their logical outcomes raced before his mind. He could roll out of the way, he could spin and disarm. There was a chance of slipping on the damp soil though, the leaves beneath his dress boots didn’t exactly afford him the traction of a paved surface. But as the wielder of the weapon spoke, Miguel allowed himself a semblance of a grin before he relaxed at the intonation of a drawl.

“Y’all have five seconds to explain why you’re on my damn island.”

“You have a fifty-six percent chance of making that shot without me breaking your wrist and taking your weapon. Do you really feel that lucky, Chancellor?” Miguel replied while slowly raising his hands to the back of his head before bringing himself to his feet.

“Never tell me the odds.”

Without warning, Miguel spun around, dipping out of the line of fire. To his surprise, there was no shot, no echoing bang disturbing the forest. Unhindered, he attacked with a series of quick strikes, only to find his fists striking against Jim’s psionic barrier in a futile effort.

“Y’all didn’t see that comin’?” Jim asked, spinning the unfired gun around on his finger before holstering it beneath his arm. “I remember the last time we fought, I was still just a welp wet behind the ears and you still looked like a dog’s breakfast,”

“Ah, yes, the tenacious agent,” A slight tone of recognition marred the Fist’s voice, “I am surprised you don’t walk with a limp after I broke your leg in three places.” Miguel replied, relaxing his hands to his sides.

“Oh I still know when the rain’s coming thanks to y’all,” Jim snapped back with a sarcastic tip of his Stetson. “Now then, we gonna keep pissin’, or you all dried up and ready to talk ‘bout why Torres has y’all lurking around my island.”

“Where’s your mind reading special lady friend?” Miguel replied with a wry smirk. Jim cracked his knuckles before rolling his neck.

“Oh I won’t be needin’ her to get words outta Nakamura’s ol’huntin’ dog.” Jim replied, “Hate to have to tell Torres I put her hound down because it got rabies.”

“I thought we were done ‘pissin’’” Miguel stated flatly, “As you know Chancellor, the Foundation has its own reasons for being interested in P.R.C.U.”

“I’m well aware of that, but you’re looking into the disappearance of a student who was associated with Hyperion’s Children. Now, either y’all are looking to add some muscle to the Foot, or there’s more than meets the eye here.”

“Does the name ‘Daedalus’ mean anything to you?” Miguel retorted cooly, “I believe he’s infiltrated your campus and is hell bent on continuing his mission here.”

“What mission would that be?” Jim asked, crossing his arms unimpressed.

“To create a new breed of Hyperhumans.” The Foundation’s Fist replied.

“Tell me, how much information did your predecessor leave about Amma Cahors?”

Rory’s eyes locked on Amma, the world seeming dull and muted as all he could see were the recordings playing back in his mind. Amma’s cryptic conversation with Haven, the sight of what she had done to save her… and the sight of her power rolling through Haven’s wings. The two that arrived there to help were two of the last people Rory wanted to involve. When his eyes turned to Katja, he instantly looked away. The last time he saw her, she was covered in blood and viscera. It was so easy for the two of them to kill… and now he was dragging Harper into a mess with them.

“Thank you… Amma, But Haven isn’t just another statistic.”

"No, no, she won't. I made a promise I would never let someone suffer what I have. To become..." There was a pause in her words, as red tendrils of power radiated from her form.

"The world has enough monsters."

”Glad you’re here… just waiting on the rest of the team.”

A small exhale left Rory’s lips. After everything, nothing had changed. Same speech, same act. The forced, weak smile on his lips showed gratitude. It disgusted him to twist his face like that. He took a few steps towards Amma on their approach, making sure to keep Amma between himself and Katja. He got close, enough that that sickening feeling of her field of influence crawled over his skin. His faint scars itched with familiarity.

While his smile remained, his whispered words were slick with disdain as he leaned in close. _{”I trust you’ll be good to your word… she reminds you of someone, after all.”} He paused for a fraction of a second, just long enough to let any semblance of recognition slip in. <sub>”If your powers touch Haven again… or you threaten her, I’ll finish what we started in the Trials.”

“Yeah?”</sub> Amma breathed, a whisper punctured through her words donned in a warning, a manifest of the creature that recognized the man before her, leaned in close as she canted her head and dropped her lashes against the sudden glow captured in her eyes. <sub>“Don't forget it was I that saved her while you were running around in a mask.”

“Twice.”</sub>

The fake smile remained plastered on his face as he leaned back, looking down at Amma. It failed to reach his eyes. He lifted a hand, placing it on her shoulder and giving a small squeeze. Anger ran through his veins like ice, but she was right. He took a breath, and gave a small nod. _{”I saw.”} He looked down at the marks on his arms, before slowly removing his hand from her shoulder. The smile on his face slipped away. Ego tripping, threats... those weren't him. Those were...

Rory clutched at the strap of his bag. This wasn't the time for this. _{”I made her a promise. And I need help keeping it.”}

Something visibly coiled through Amma at his words, something unmarked and unnamed that writhed against the hand clasped over her shoulder whilst she swept her gaze up to meet his frigid glare that marked her on the spot for everything that went unsaid between them. Her fingers splayed and cracked, nails marked into her palms as a shuddering breath swept through her lungs and inflated on a trembling inhale from her fury bristling in response. Amma exhaled on a nod, reigning in the rage, clamping down on the red that angrily sluiced away beneath her skin and thrummed down her back liken to a serpent tongue that flicked away at her spine.

_{“I'll make sure you're able to keep that promise. Just like mine.”}

Rory gave a nod, the exhaustion on his face evident as he turned away, walking away a few paces. He folded his arms over his chest, his nails digging into his skin as he desperately tried to keep everything in. She was right. No matter all his big talk… he was right there. He should have woken up. He should have locked the window. He should have known they would come. He should have done something, anything, to save her. And now… he was just tagging along. He readjusted the strap of his duffle bag, just to give his hands something to do as he buried his anger and frustration down deeper and deeper. Amma knew he was useless here. Harper wasn't at 100% and was still doing more than he had. Katja would break down doors and walls all on her own until she found her. Rory couldn't do anything but follow their lead.

Haven needed the team.