Night Step tore at me.
Not gently like before—this was violent, forced, like ripping space open with bare hands. The city twisted, layers of concrete and darkness peeling past in a blur as alarms screamed far below. My vision tunneled, pain spiking behind my eyes as my body protested the distance.
Too far.
Too fast.
Too much.
I staggered as we emerged, collapsing to one knee in the middle of an abandoned construction site several blocks away. Rusted girders rose like skeletal fingers toward the sky, half-finished and forgotten, wrapped in caution tape that fluttered weakly in the night wind.
I barely caught myself from dropping the boy.
My chest burned. Every breath felt like inhaling broken glass.
So this was the price.
Saving someone was heavier than killing them.
The boy stirred weakly on my shoulder, letting out a soft, broken sound—half sob, half gasp. His body was hot, feverish, energy still leaking out in faint ripples that distorted the air around us.
I set him down carefully against a concrete pillar and leaned back, head falling against the cold surface as I forced my breathing to slow.
The whisper inside me was restless.
Not angry.
Confused.
Why didn't you take him?
Power wasted. Risk taken.
I wiped blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.
"Shut up," I muttered.
For a moment, the shadows recoiled slightly—surprised.
That was new.
I pushed myself upright and knelt in front of the boy. Up close, he looked even younger. Barely out of high school. A faint scar on his chin. Callused hands that spoke of part-time jobs and cheap tools, not combat or secret organizations.
A normal life.
Or what passed for one before tonight.
His eyes fluttered open slowly.
He focused on me with visible effort, pupils adjusting, breathing hitching as panic threatened to return.
"Easy," I said immediately, lowering my voice. "You're safe. For now."
His gaze darted around wildly, taking in the dark site, the open sky, the absence of white walls and restraints. Confusion slowly overtook fear.
"Where…?" he whispered.
"Out," I answered. "Away from them."
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "They said… they said I was dangerous."
I met his eyes evenly. "They were afraid."
That seemed to confuse him more than anything else.
I leaned back on my heels, keeping my posture relaxed, non-threatening. Every instinct told me not to loom. Not to let the shadows move unnecessarily.
Right now, I wasn't a predator.
I was a stabilizer.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"…Evan," he said after a moment. "Evan Cole."
I nodded. "I'm—"
I stopped.
My name felt… complicated now.
"…Call me Ash," I said instead.
A lie.
But a useful one.
Evan nodded slowly, then winced, clutching his head as a faint pulse of energy surged and quickly died down.
"Does it hurt?" I asked.
"All the time," he admitted shakily. "It feels like something inside me is trying to tear out."
I exhaled.
That tracked.
"When did it start?"
"Two days ago," he said. "I thought I was sick. Lights started flickering when I got angry. Shadows moved when I wasn't looking at them. I freaked out."
A humorless smile tugged at my lips.
Same.
"I went online," he continued. "There were forums. People talking about weird stuff. Before I knew it, they contacted me. Said they could help."
Director Kade's people.
Efficient as ever.
"They took me underground," Evan said, voice shaking now. "They said they needed to 'measure my limits.' Every time I screamed, they turned the machines up higher."
His hands trembled.
"They said if I couldn't stabilize… they'd put me down."
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
Not rage.
Resolve.
"You stabilized," I said firmly. "They were wrong."
He looked at me like he wanted to believe that more than anything.
Silence stretched between us, filled only by the distant hum of the city.
Then Evan asked quietly, "Why did you help me?"
The whisper perked up.
Yes. Why?
I looked down at my hands.
Because once, I'd been alone in the dark too.
Because no one had reached out.
Because if I didn't draw a line somewhere, I'd become exactly what Kade wanted me to be.
"Because someone has to," I said finally.
He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly, like he was committing that answer to memory.
Sirens wailed faintly in the distance.
Too close.
Too many.
They were searching.
I stood.
"We can't stay here," I said. "Can you walk?"
Evan tried to push himself up—and immediately collapsed, legs giving out.
I caught him.
"Guess that's a no," I muttered.
The suppressive fields underground had taken more out of him than I'd realized. His energy might have stabilized, but his body hadn't caught up yet.
I glanced around the site.
No cameras. No active workers. Plenty of shadows.
Good.
I lifted him again, this time more carefully, and stepped deeper into the darkness beneath the unfinished structure. The shadows responded instantly, weaving around us, thickening, muffling sound and sight.
We vanished from the open.
Inside the shadowed undercroft, I set him down again and leaned against a beam, forcing myself to stay alert despite the exhaustion creeping into my bones.
Saving him had cost me.
I could feel it now—the strain, the dull ache where my power and body didn't quite align yet. The flaw Kade had pointed out hadn't gone away.
If anything, it was clearer.
Power alone wasn't enough.
I needed conditioning. Control. Knowledge.
And allies.
Evan shifted slightly, looking around the dark space with nervous curiosity. "They'll come after me, won't they?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation.
He flinched.
"But," I continued, "they'll have to go through me."
That earned a weak, incredulous laugh. "You say that like it's obvious."
I smiled faintly.
"It is."
The whisper hummed softly, not in hunger this time—but in anticipation.
More like him will come.
Choices will be made.
You cannot save everyone.
I stared into the darkness beyond the shadows, where the city lights flickered like distant stars.
"Maybe not," I said quietly.
"But I can save enough."
Evan watched me with something new in his eyes now.
Not just gratitude.
Belief.
And that scared me more than Director Kade ever could.
Because power could be taken.
Belief had to be carried.
Above us, the city searched blindly, unaware that something fundamental had shifted beneath its streets.
Tonight wasn't just an escape.
It was the birth of something dangerous.
Not a lone hunter.
But the beginning of resistance.
And as the shadows curled tighter around us, one truth settled deep into my bones:
From this moment on, every life I chose to save would pull me further from the man I used to be
And closer to the war I was about to start.