The party was held at a sprawling bungalow in the affluent North district. It wasn’t hard to guess that it belonged to one of the academy’s elite—one of those students for whom throwing an extravagant event like this was as routine as attending a lecture. The school had no official hand in it, but then again, it didn’t need to. Half the attendees here came from old money, where dropping the equivalent of a year’s tuition on a single evening was just another Tuesday. Their lives existed in a different reality, where luxuries that seemed unimaginable to most were just a normal part of their day-to-day.

  My ride dropped me off at the bungalow's entrance, where the bright white moon hung behind it, looking oddly larger than usual. Guards stood by the gate, checking academy IDs for entry. Small groups of people were heading inside, laughing and chatting. So, I joined the flow, producing my ID when my turn came. The guards barely glanced at it before nodding me through.

  Stepping inside, I could already hear the music and feel the electric atmosphere radiating from the house beyond the doors.

  I hesitated for a moment, surveying my options: Should I mingle, try to make new friends, get to know some people, or simply find a quiet corner with a drink and soak in the atmosphere? The possibilities were enticing.

  As I walked toward the main entrance, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d stepped into a different era. The gardens and bungalow style, with their meticulous hedges and antique sculptures, felt like a deliberate attempt to evoke the past. Inside, the place was enormous, and every piece of furniture gleamed with a golden hue, giving it a lavish, old-world feel. In one corner, a bar was set up, and in another, some classic party games were underway. Students moved up and down the grand staircase, disappearing into various rooms—I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those closed doors.

  People were mingling, drinks in hand. Since we were all over eighteen, no one was bothering with restrictions. Drinking seemed to be the norm, and the atmosphere was buzzing.

  I estimated that the academy had accepted about sixty new students this year, and with the returning students from other years, the bungalow was bursting with energy and bodies. It felt like the entire school had crammed into this lavish space. As I wove through the crowd toward the bar, my mind set on ordering something strong, a voice rang out from nearby.

  “Oh, it’s our class clown! He’s here too!” The remark was followed by laughter from a small group clustered together.

  Hilarious, really. I rubbed my forehead. My reputation had really tanked. In just two days, enough strange things had happened to me to solidify that impression—and, to be fair, I hadn’t exactly been a favorite before then. Maybe it was my meta nature, or the fact that I’d been chosen by the Codex Grid to attend the academy. “Jealousy,” I’d chalked it up to, though I wasn’t alone in walking this path. Many of us had faced similar scorn. Still, I gave them a small, indifferent smile and continued to the bar, refusing to let their taunts burrow under my skin.

  Once I had a drink in hand, I moved to the side, quietly sipping while eavesdropping on snippets of conversation.

  “Rachel, you can’t drink anymore—you’ve already had four!” a guy nearby pleaded with his girlfriend, who was laughing and clearly living her best life while he struggled to keep her in check.

  Well, someone’s having a good night, I thought, taking another sip.

  On a nearby sofa, a group was gathered, each person taking turns showing off their meta abilities. The atmosphere was lively, everyone eager to impress.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw Alex, grinning and holding two beers.

  “Hey, Alex,” I said, forcing a polite tone.

  “What are you doing here, man? Why are you standing alone?” he asked, his curiosity tinged with concern.

  I shrugged, biting back the urge to say, Because I don’t know anyone here, obviously. Instead, I played it cool. “Just trying to enjoy the party.”

  Alex clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Your idea of fun is weird,” he said, grabbing my arm before I could protest. “Come on, let me introduce you to some nice people.”

  I glanced at him, my instinct screaming to pull back, but I let him lead me toward the group on the sofa. I couldn’t help but wonder Why was he being so nice to me? It was hard not to wonder if he felt some kind of pity. What other reason would he have to go out of his way to pull me into things? Honestly, if our roles were reversed, I doubted I’d go out of my way to pull someone like me into the mix. And yet, here he was, dragging me into the crowd

  As Alex guided me through the crowd, a strange sensation prickled at the edge of my awareness, stopping me in my tracks. My gaze instinctively scanned the room until it settled on the door. There she was—Jade. She stood just inside, her posture hesitant, as if debating whether she’d made the right decision to come. Her black dress, paired with long boots, gave her an effortlessly edgy look. Her bangs framed her forehead, the rest of her hair cascading down her back. She looked stunning, though there was a flicker of unease in her expression, like she’d walked into a room full of strangers. Somehow, I had the undeniable sense that she’d sensed me too.

  “What? Did you see something?” Alex’s voice jolted me back to the present.

  I blinked, shaking off the moment. “Nothing,” I said quickly, brushing it off as if it were nothing more than a passing thought.

  "Guys, let me introduce you to someone you already know but aren't quite familiar with," Alex announced, guiding me toward a plush sofa and taking a seat beside me. I mustered an awkward smile, acutely aware of the teenage discomfort settling in. A few in the group cast me skeptical glances, clearly less than thrilled by my arrival.

  “Isn’t he the clueless guy? Bad stuff always happens around him,” the boy named Vinico commented from further down the sofa, a slight smirk on his face.

  "That's not cool, Vinico. You don't know his circumstances," Alex retorted, coming to my defense. He glanced at me with a hint of apology in his eyes, as if to say, Ignore it, man.

  I gave him a slight nod, appreciating his support, and tried to blend into the group's dynamic.

  Alex began introducing the others, pointing them out one by one. “That’s Vinico, obviously. The girl beside him is Lore Lovelace. Over there is Wenzel, Daisy Hart, Gina Summers, Henry Won, Zoe, and Monika. And, of course, you’ve all seen North around in class or outside.”

  I scanned the faces, locking their names to their appearances in my mind. Finally having names to go with the faces made the situation feel slightly less alien.

  One of them, Gina—who looked relaxed in a black sparkly tube mini dress—gave me a once-over before taking a sip of her drink. Her eyes lingered for a moment, and she tilted her head slightly. “Your look has changed a lot over the past couple of days,” she remarked, the comment hanging somewhere between curiosity and skepticism.

  Her words caught me off guard, and I hesitated before replying. “Yeah, I guess you could say it’s been a... transformative few days.”

  Daisy chuckled, her laughter broke some of the tension. “Transformative? That’s one way to put it. Careful—Vinico’s going to say you’ve been cursed next.”

  Vinico raised an eyebrow, clearly weighing a sarcastic retort, but Alex interrupted before he could speak. “Or maybe he’s just adapting better than most of us would. Let’s not jump to conclusions, yeah?”

  The group quieted down, and I relaxed slightly, grateful for Alex’s intervention. For all my initial doubts about him, his willingness to stick up for me was something I hadn’t expected—and wasn’t sure I deserved.

  Henry, perched on the edge of his seat, adjusted his thin, round glasses. They lent him an air of quiet intellect, and his sharp gaze made it clear he was the kind of person who rarely missed anything. “So,” he said, leaning forward with curiosity, “what’s your meta nature?”

  I hesitated, deciding to keep my answer simple yet intriguing. “I can tell if someone’s going to have a good or bad day,” I said. It was vague enough to deflect deeper probing while still answering the question. Anyone paying attention would probably sense there was more to it.

  “Hmm,” Vinico chimed in, unable to resist a comment. “So you got into the academy just because of that?”

  Alex’s head snapped in Vinico’s direction, his patience visibly thinning. “What is your problem?” he barked, his tone carrying more weight this time.

  Vinico merely shrugged, utterly unbothered. “I was just confirming. I mean, it seems like a pretty useless power in most cases. He can’t fight, can’t fly, can’t really do anything. And for someone who can supposedly read luck, his own seems pretty terrible.”

  When did I ever offend this guy? I wondered, frowning slightly. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one tired of Vinico’s attitude.

  “Wow, Vinico,” Gina said, breaking the tense silence with a dry laugh. “You really know how to make someone feel welcome.”

  Vinico’s smug expression faltered as Lore tilted her head, her tone calm but firm. “Vinico, we all have unique meta natures here,” she said, her words a quiet but pointed rebuke. “People who rely solely on brute force don’t usually last long in this field.”

  Her warm gaze shifted to me, “I’m Lore Lovelace,” she said. “My ability lets me bring abstract concepts to life for a brief time.”

  Lore leaned forward, her warm smile offset by the sharp glint of her confidence. “Here, let me show you what I mean,” she said.

  “Silence,” she exhaled softly, her fingers curling slightly as if grasping something invisible. The air around us shifted, a strange stillness falling over the group. The hum of background music vanished. Conversations that had buzzed nearby were suddenly muted, as if the world had been wrapped in a dense, invisible blanket.

  Her eyes sparkled with quiet pride. “That’s ‘silence,’” she said. The group glanced around, startled at the sudden void of sound, until Lore released her grip, and noise rushed back in with a startling clarity.

  “Impressive,” Gina muttered, her tone tinged with reluctant admiration.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Vinico cut in, standing up as if to reclaim some spotlight. “But what about this?” He stepped away from the sofa, rolling his shoulders. In an instant, a copy of him appeared beside him, and then another. The clones grinned mischievously, mirroring his expression as they crossed their arms in unison.

  “Vinico here can create temporary clones of himself, though each clone fades after a short time,” Alex added from the side.

  “Hey, I can introduce myself!” Vinico grumbled, clearly irritated, though his powers suddenly seemed less impressive next to Lore’s unique ability. His clone flickered and dissolved, followed by the next, leaving only the original Vinico.

  Henry leaned back casually, his gaze fixed on me. “Watch closely,” he said. His body relaxed, but something in his eyes sharpened. I suddenly felt a strange pressure in the back of my mind, as if someone were rifling through my thoughts. My surroundings blurred slightly, and Henry’s voice seemed to echo from a different part of the room.

  He smirked faintly, his lips unmoving as I heard him speak again, “I’m in your head now.” A moment later, the sensation lifted, leaving me blinking as he settled back into his seat.

  “I can split my consciousness, allowing me to focus on multiple tasks at once or send part of my mind into someone else’s thoughts and hide there. I can see and hear what they do from then on.” he explained, his tone even.

  Definitely dangerous, I thought, already picturing the potential of someone who could be the perfect spy.

  Zoe leaned forward, a playful glint in her eyes. “Now it’s my turn.” She extended her hand toward Alex, who raised a brow but didn’t resist. Her fingers brushed his arm lightly, and for a moment, her expression tightened in concentration. Then, with a flash of confidence, she stood and squared her shoulders.

  “Okay, hit me!” she said to Alex.

  Alex chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Try it,” Zoe pressed. “I’ll be fine.”

  Alex hesitated, then threw a light jab toward her arm. His fist bounced off without so much as a flinch from Zoe. She grinned triumphantly. “Entanglement,” she explained, letting go of Alex’s power and collapsing into her seat with a satisfied smile. “I just borrowed his invulnerability.”

  The group murmured in awe as Monika leaned back, her fingers idly toying with the edges of her hair. “All right, everyone, settle down,” she said, her voice lilting and calm. “Let’s try something lighter.”

  A wave of warmth washed over me—comforting, almost euphoric. I glanced at the others and saw similar expressions of contentment. Monika smirked, her power obvious. “Amplified emotions,” she explained. “I can double your mood—or, you know, flip it.”

  Wenzel stood next, his movements smooth and deliberate. “Shadows,” he said simply. Raising his hand, the room’s faint lighting bent unnaturally. The shadow beneath a nearby table elongated, twisting upward like a vine until it solidified into a thin, black blade in his grasp. He let it dissolve with a flick of his wrist, the shadow slithering back to its original place.

  “Handy,” he said, his tone nonchalant. Wenzel could control and shape shadows, making them solid or forming temporary constructs.

  Gina swirled the drink in her hand thoughtfully, her expression sharp. “And now, for something completely different,” she said. She reached toward the table, brushing her fingers over a glass. Her eyes glazed over for a moment before she looked up, her gaze distant. “The last person who touched this was stressed. They were muttering something about a deadline.”

  Gina Summers, who could rewind time by ten seconds and pull specific memories from objects or people, glimpsing flashes of their past experiences up to twenty four hours. She’s definitely one to watch out for, I thought, noting how powerful—and dangerous—her ability could be. Thankfully, the effects of her meta nature stopped at twenty four hours, otherwise, i wouldn't want to be in her presence.

  “Creepy,” Daisy muttered, though her tone was more impressive than alarmed.

  Finally, Daisy stood, brushing invisible dust from her pants. “Let me show you what it’s like to vanish,” she said, winking. She took a step back, and just like that, she disappeared. The air shimmered faintly where she had been standing, like the outline of a heatwave. From the space where her voice emerged, she added, “I can see all of you, but you can’t see me or touch me with anything you have.”

  After a beat, she reappeared, grinning. “The veil.”

  She could enter a pocket dimension, or “veil,” allowing her to observe the real world without being seen or interacting with it—a perfect way to gather information undetected.

  Meanwhile, Alex leaned back, raising his hands as the attention swung to him. “And me? I think I’ll pass on the demo for now. You’ll just have to take my word for it,” he said with a grin. “Or, you know, throw something at me.”

  He had even more impressive meta nature: he could become invulnerable to all damage as long as he genuinely believed he could handle the problem.

  As time passed, I felt myself blending into the group, their initial prejudices against me gradually fading. It dawned on me that I’d become too rigid and defensive, automatically seeing others as obstacles or threats. In reality, most people weren’t enemies—they were just trying to navigate this world like anyone else. The realization hit hard: maybe it wasn’t the world that needed to open up to me, but the other way around.

  To my surprise, I realized I shared a lot in common with these people.

  “So you’re saying,” Lore said, narrowing her eyes with an incredulous smirk, “there’s a possibility I could nullify someone else’s meta nature just by doing something completely random?”

  Her skepticism was echoed in the raised brows and tilted heads around the group. Even Vinico, though feigning disinterest, seemed to be listening closely from his perch on the armrest of the sofa.

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  I nodded, leaning forward, feeling a strange sense of freedom in sharing these things. It wasn’t as if they could truly piece together the full picture—and besides, none of them would remember any of this in the next cycle. So why not deepen the connections I was forming, especially with Lore Lovelace? Our wavelengths matched perfectly, and, much to Vinico's annoyance, we’d grown unexpectedly close.

  “Exactly.” Lowering my voice to a whisper, “Yes, but it can all be fluke too,” I replied, thinking it over. “Sometimes, all it takes is a small, seemingly insignificant variable. People have noticed that if certain elements align, like timing or environment, even a simple action can disrupt or interfere with someone’s meta nature—though usually only for a moment.”

  Sometimes, it takes nothing more than a small, seemingly insignificant variable. If the timing, environment, or even just the mood aligns in the right way, a simple action can disrupt someone’s ability—if only for a moment.”

  Lore’s expression turned thoughtful as she processed my words, her skepticism softening into intrigue. “But how?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “That sounds… chaotic. Random.”

  “It is,” I admitted, lowering my voice as if I were sharing a secret. “But chaos is part of the equation. I’ve seen it happen. Certain situations create the perfect conditions for interference—whether it’s someone closing their eyes at just the right second or stepping into the wrong shadow. The effect is unpredictable, but it’s real.”

  Lore leaned back, her lips curving into a fearful smile. “That’s wild.”

  “Actually,” I added, glancing around the circle, “it’s not something you’ll find in a published study. There are people—powerful people—who don’t want this getting out. They’re afraid of what it could mean.”

  Gina’s eyes widened, her earlier aloofness replaced with genuine fascination. “I didn’t know you had this side,” she said with a grin. “You sound like some kind of meta detective.”

  The group murmured in agreement, their curiosity tangible. Even Monika, who had been idly scrolling on her phone, set it aside to listen.

  “It’s not just theory,” I continued, leaning closer to Lore. “I learned this first hand after getting mixed up with some dangerous people.” My voice dropped, threading just enough tension into my words to keep them hooked. Though what I said was true, it happened far in the future, about a hundred and fifty years from now.

  “They were experimenting with ways to neutralize meta abilities—ways no one would ever suspect. It’s not exactly something you want to stumble into unprepared.”

  Alex, Henry, and everyone’s eyes gleamed with interest, and they shifted closer, their attention locked on me. “So think of it this way,” I continued. “If someone were able to figure out the right method, we might be able to stop something as significant as teleportation just by, say… closing our eyes at the right moment.”

  Vinico’s scoff reverberated like a gauntlet thrown. “I don’t believe you,” he sneered, slamming his cup onto the table hard enough to make the drinks ripple. “You’re just making up stories.”

  I felt the shift in the room. The others’ eyes turned toward me, their earlier fascination waning as Vinico’s skepticism took root. For people whose lives revolved around their meta abilities, the idea of losing control—even momentarily—wasn’t just unsettling; it was terrifying. I knew they wanted to believe me, but doubt was an insidious thing, and Vinico had planted it well.

  Instead of protesting, I let a faint smile tug at the corner of my lips, leaning back with an air of practiced indifference. I reached for my drink, intending to take a measured sip, only to find my glass empty.

  “Guess it’s time for another shot,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. I didn’t wait for a response as I made my way to the bar, the steady thrum of the DJ’s beat vibrating underfoot. The drinks, as expected, were free-flowing, and the crowd reflected it. Half-drunk students swayed and stumbled across the floor, their laughter and slurred conversations blending into the music.

  As I refilled my glass, I felt a presence behind me—close enough to make my instincts prickle.

  “Hey,” a familiar voice said softly.

  I turned, unsurprised yet curious. “Hi,” I replied, lifting my freshly poured glass to my lips. “You looking for me?”

  Jade nodded, her body language screaming discomfort. Her cheeks and ears were flushed, and her breathing came in short, uneven bursts. Her fists were clenched at her sides, the tension in her frame unmistakable. But it was her eyes that made me pause. They were unfocused, her pupils blown wide, a look of vague detachment clouding her expression.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, lowering my glass. My tone was cautious, but my mind was already ticking through possibilities. Something wasn’t right.

  "I think I…" she began, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze flickered, and she swallowed hard. "I might have caused a problem."

  I narrowed my eyes, that familiar tingle of her presence suddenly sharper, more urgent. Something in her aura felt wrong—jagged and unstable. "What kind of problem?"

  Jade swayed slightly, and without thinking, I reached out to steady her. The moment my hand touched her arm, that weird connection between us flared like a live wire. She must have felt it too because she unconsciously leaned into the contact.

  "I didn't mean to," she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. "It just… happened. I didn't think it would get out of hand."

  I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my free hand, very aware that I was still holding her arm with the other. "Jade, whatever it is, just spit it out. Did you—?"

  "No!" she cut in quickly, shaking her head. "I didn't kill anyone." Her voice dropped, barely audible over the music. "But it might've been… worse."

  I was speechless, I had thought she had beaten someone senseless, but her words clearly exceeded my wildest imagination. My grip on her arm tightened slightly—protectively? I wasn't sure when that instinct had kicked in. "Start from the beginning," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. "What did you do?"

  She pulled away from my grip only to sway again, this time more violently. I caught her before she could fall, and suddenly she was basically using me as a human support beam.

  "I just wanted to try some drinks," she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. I could feel her trembling. "A guy—a senior, I think—invited me to hang out with him and his friends. I thought it'd be a good way to make new friends, so I went upstairs with him. There was already a group drinking there." She hesitated, her fingers unconsciously gripping my shirt. "They were doing drugs too. I saw them use this blue stuff—putting it in their eyes."

  Something cold settled in my chest. I knew exactly what she was talking about, and it wasn't good.

  "They kept pressuring me to try it, and..." Her voice cracked, and I felt something wet against my shirt. She was crying. Actually crying. "I gave in. I'm so stupid, I just—I just wanted them to like me, you know?"

  Ah, hell. I wasn't good with crying.

  "You're not stupid," I said quietly. "They're the idiots who—" I stopped as her whole body tensed.

  "While I was under the influence," she continued, her voice breaking, "everything got... hazy. The room kept spinning, and I could barely keep my eyes open. Then one of them..." She shuddered violently, and I felt her fingers dig into my shirt. "He started touching my hair, saying how pretty I was. I tried to move away, but my body wouldn't listen."

  My jaw clenched, but I forced myself to stay still, to let her get it out.

  "The others were laughing," she whispered, her voice hollow. "Like it was some kind of game. One of them said 'she won't even remember' and started pulling my dress up and another tried to kiss my neck. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. I felt so... helpless."

  The chill in my hands and feet spread through my whole body. My grip on the glass tightened as anger coiled inside me. Of course, these privileged idiots would pull something like this. They probably saw her as an easy target, someone they could manipulate without consequence.

  Her breathing hitched with a wave of her fear and disgust. "But before they could do anything, I snapped out of it, and my meta, it went out of control.”

  The anger that flooded through me was surprising in its intensity. "Are they dead?" I asked, my voice cold and sharp.

  Jade flinched at the question, but I couldn’t help it. I didn't really care even if they were - the consequences could be handled, I thought to myself. I don’t know why I felt that way. My primary concern was making sure Jade was safe and the situation was under control, regardless of what had happened to the others.

  She looked up at me, tears streaming down her face, but there was something else in her eyes now—a flash of that same power she was describing. "I wanted them gone," she said, her voice suddenly steady. "I wanted them to disappear so badly, to never exist in the same space as me again. And then they just... vanished."

  "Hey," I cut her off, pulling back just enough to look at her face. Her makeup was smeared, her eyes red and unfocused. "Those bastards got exactly what they deserved. You protected yourself. That's all that matters."

  She tried to nod but ended up swaying again. I caught her, noticing how her skin felt too hot, her pupils still blown wide. Blue Ice Separation. Of course these rich idiots would have access to that stuff.

  "We need to get you out of here," I said, already reaching for my phone to text Alex. When I tried to step back, Jade made a small sound of protest, her hands still clutching my shirt.

  "Don't," she mumbled. "Everything spins when you're not close."

  That shouldn't have made my heart do whatever weird flip it just did. I blamed it on our meta nature resonance thing. Had to be that, right?

  "Okay," I said, keeping one arm around her waist. "But we're leaving. Now."

  She nodded empty minded. We needed to get out of here before anyone pieced together what had happened upstairs.

  We slipped out of the bungalow into the crisp night air, the party’s thumping bass fading behind us. The street was empty except for the distant glow of a convenience store. I scanned for what I needed and spotted a medical store nearby. Without a word, I led Jade toward it.

  Inside, I grabbed what I was looking for: counteracting drops for Blue Ice Separation. Jade had described the drug perfectly. It was notorious—a designer high created by a meta-chemist, infamous for its ability to induce an out-of-body euphoria so intense it felt like soul and body were momentarily severed. The effects could be exhilarating, but the risks were massive, especially for those with unstable meta abilities. I’d tried it a few times myself back in the day but never under duress—and I knew how quickly it could spiral out of control.

  The long-term effects of Blue Ice Separation were no joke—loss of control over one’s meta nature, and in some cases, death. For someone like Jade, whose powers were volatile even on a good day, the risk was amplified. If she lost control again, the consequences could be catastrophic, and she wouldn’t even realize the harm she’d done until it was too late.

  After leading her to a small outdoor table, I draped my jacket over her shoulders. The night was cool, and I knew she’d feel the chill once the drug’s effects started wearing off. “Stay here,” I told her gently. She nodded, her movements subdued, and I headed back into the store to grab supplies—water, saline drops, and a few basic remedies to ease her recovery.

  When I returned, I found her hunched over, hugging the jacket tightly around herself. I sat beside her and placed a bottle of water in front of her. She grabbed it eagerly, ready to gulp it down, but I stopped her with a raised hand.

  “Hold up!” I said with a chuckle. “Wash your eyes first. You’ve gotta get that residue out, or it could stick around longer than you want.”

  She scrunched her nose in mild irritation, tipping her head back to rinse her eyes. The droplets trailed down her cheeks like fleeting tears, and for a moment, I was struck by her features—phoenix-like eyes, gray and piercing, framed by delicate brows. They gave her an aura of understated elegance, quietly striking in a way I hadn’t noticed before.

  Feeling my face warm inexplicably, I averted my gaze to the full moon overhead. Something was definitely off with me—I felt oddly self-conscious, which was both irritating and confusing.

  Damm the resonance in meta nature… The feeling was as unsettling as it was annoying.

  "Thanks," she murmured, passing back the empty bottle. I tossed the empty medicine bottle into a nearby bin and glanced back. She still looked shaky, but her eyes were clearer now. The street lights caught the slight shimmer in her black dress, and I noticed her wobble again, her high heels definitely not helping matters.

  "Think you can walk a bit?" I asked.

  She nodded, then immediately stumbled. I caught her arm, steadying her. "Okay, maybe not that well," she admitted weakly.

  "Those heels look like torture devices."

  She clutched my arm for support. "Beauty is pain, or whatever. Though right now they're mostly just..." She stumbled again, catching herself. "Okay, yeah, they're awful."

  "Here." I sat down on a nearby bench and started unlacing my sneakers. They were just simple shoes, nothing fancy.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Preventing you from breaking an ankle." I held them out to her. "Our feet look the same size, so they should fit you."

  She hesitated, looking between the sneakers and her own heels. "But what about you?"

  "I'll survive. Unless you want me to carry you?"

  That finally got a real chuckled out of her. "God, no. I've had enough drama for one night." She slipped off her heels with visible relief, wiggling her toes before accepting my sneakers. "Oh wow," she said as she put them on, "these are actually really comfortable. Like, unreasonably comfortable."

  I picked up her heels, dangling them from one finger as we started walking.

  "Think you can make it a bit further? There's a food stand around the corner."

  As we walked, the silence between us felt different than before—not exactly comfortable, but not awkward either.

  The streets were quieter here, away from the party. Moths danced around the streetlights, and somewhere a car alarm went off briefly before falling silent. Our footsteps echoed slightly on the empty sidewalk – hers now shuffling in my sneakers, mine oddly quiet in just socks. We turned the corner onto a tree-lined avenue where even the street lamps looked expensive, their ornate iron work casting elaborate shadows on the pristine sidewalk. Among the high walls and manicured gardens of multi-million dollar homes sat a tiny piece of whimsy – an artisanal gelato cart with copper trim and a striped awning. Its warm lights gave off a soft, inviting glow, and a small queue of well-dressed late-night customers lingered around it. Apparently, even in this neighborhood, good ice cream was universal.

  The cart belonged to Bellini's, one of those places that imported their ingredients directly from Italy and charged accordingly. But the aroma of fresh waffle cones and the way Jade's eyes lit up at the hand-painted menu of flavors told me I'd made the right call.

  "Oh," she breathed, suddenly energized. "Ice cream."

  "Seriously?" I asked, watching her point to the most elaborate sundae on the menu. "After everything tonight, that's what you want?"

  She turned to me, and for the first time since the party, a genuine smile tugged at her lips. "Sugar helps with sadness," she declared with mock seriousness. "It's science."

  "Oh really?" I couldn't help but smile back. "And where exactly did you study this 'science'?"

  "The University of Life," she shot back, then wobbled slightly. I steadied her again as she studied the menu with intense concentration.

  The vendor watched us with tired amusement as Jade pointed to the most elaborate sundae they had. "Want some?" she offered moments later, holding out a spoonful of ice cream loaded with chocolate sauce, sprinkles, and what looked like every topping available.

  I eyed the mountain of toppings skeptically. "I prefer my ice cream without having to excavate it first."

  "Oh?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Let me guess – you're probably one of those dark chocolate people. All bitter and serious."

  "Dark chocolate hazelnut, actually," I corrected, then immediately regretted giving her ammunition.

  "Wow, you actually admitted to being boring. Didn't expect that." She complained curiously. "Let me guess – you also drink your coffee black and judge people who put sugar in theirs?"

  "I'll have you know," I said, accepting her spoonful despite my protests, "that dark chocolate hazelnut is a sophisticated choice. Unlike whatever sugar explosion you're eating."

  "Oh my god," she suddenly exclaimed, "they put pop rocks in this! Here, try it!" Before I could react, she'd shoved another spoonful toward my face. I caught her wrist, laughing despite myself.

  "You're going to give yourself a sugar rush," I warned, but accepted the bite anyway. The pop rocks crackled, and she beamed triumphantly.

  "That's the point!" She swayed again, my sneakers flopping as she regained her balance. "Everything's better with a little chaos."

  The vendor watched us with poorly hidden amusement as Jade continued her mission to make me try every possible combination of toppings. "This one has caramel and those little cookie bits," she insisted, already holding out another spoonful.

  "You know I can just get my own ice cream, right?"

  "Nope, too late. You're committed now." She scooped up some chocolate sauce with sprinkles. "Besides, you helped me so much and gave me your shoes. Sharing ice cream is the least I can do."

  I rolled my eyes but let her feed me another bite. Something about her happiness was infectious, making it impossible to maintain my usual standoffish attitude.

  "Oh wait," she said suddenly, "there's this one part that's just perfect, it's got all the—" She moved too quickly, wobbling, and a glob of ice cream landed on her chin.

  "Smooth," I teased. Without thinking, I reached out with a napkin and wiped the ice cream off her face. She went very still, and I realized what I was doing. But instead of pulling away, she just smiled softly. I reasoned, she was still intoxicated from the effects of drug. I hoped she would forget everything bad that happened tonight. Hopefully!

  "Missed a spot," she said quietly, pointing to another drop near her lip. My hand moved on its own, thumb gently brushing away the ice cream. For a moment, we just looked at each other, the night suddenly feeling very quiet.

  Then she blinked and the moment passed. "Last bite," she announced, holding up the spoon. "We have to share it. It's, like, a rule."

  "Oh, it's a rule now?"

  "Absolutely. I just made it up."

  I laughed, letting her feed me the final spoonful of ice cream. The night wrapped around us like a comfortable blanket as we started walking again, my feet probably getting ruined but somehow not minding. The stars above us were fighting a losing battle against the city lights, but she seemed fascinated by them anyway.

  "There," she said suddenly, her voice breaking our comfortable silence with an excited burst. She pointed across the horizon with her plastic spoon. I followed her gaze.

  "That's my home," she said, pointing across the horizon. Her eyes sparkled with childlike delight, and something about her unguarded enthusiasm made it impossible to maintain my usual walls.

  "We could sit for a bit," I suggested, nodding toward a small park we were passing. "If you're not ready to head back yet."

  She glanced down at my socked feet. "Your feet must be killing you."

  "Worth it to prevent you from face-planting in those heels."

  The park was really just a forgotten patch of grass with a few weathered benches, but its elevation offered a perfect view of the city sprawled out below. Jade immediately wandered toward a spot in the grass, ignoring the nearby bench completely.

  "The bench is right there," I pointed out.

  "Yeah, but you can't see the stars properly from there." She sat down, wrapping her arms around her knees. After a moment's hesitation, I sat beside her, leaving enough space that she wouldn't feel trapped.

  "My grandfather used to tell me about the stars," she said suddenly, her voice soft but steady. "He had this whole thing about how stars were actually ancient warriors who fought so hard they burned bright enough to stick in the sky." She laughed softly. "I believed him for years."

  "That's... actually kind of beautiful."

  "Yeah. Though I got really confused in science class." She grinned. "Turns out 'my grandad said it's an ancient warrior' isn't the right answer to 'what are stars made of?'"

  I found myself chuckling. "Let me guess – you argued about it?"

  "Poor teacher didn't know what hit her." She pointed at a particularly bright light. "See that one? According to eight-year-old me, that was definitely a warrior princess who fought off an entire army with just a fork."

  "A fork?"

  "I was going through a very specific phase, okay?" She giggle softly, then her voice softened. "I miss that sometimes. When everything could be magic and mysteries, before..." She gestured vaguely at herself. "Before all this meta nature stuff made everything complicated."

  She leaned back, her hand accidentally landed on mine. Neither of us moved for a moment, and I found myself hyper-aware of every point of contact. Then she quickly pulled away, clearing her throat. "Sorry, I—"

  "It's fine," I said quickly, then immediately wondered why my face felt warm. I hadn't felt this off-balance in... well, several lifetimes, actually.

  Suddenly then, She shoved my shoulder, "How are you so calm about all this? If I didn't know better, I'd think you deal with weird stuff like this all the time."

  If she only knew. "Maybe I just have a high tolerance for weird."

  "Lucky me then," she said, but the movement made her lose her upper body balance. She grabbed my arm to steady herself, and didn't let go.

  Inwardly, my mind screamed at me to create distance, to remember why getting close to anyone was a terrible idea.

  "Thanks," she said after a moment, her voice softer. "For everything tonight. Not just the help, but... for making me feel like less of a disaster and not judging me."

  "You're not a disaster," I said automatically. "Why would I ever judge you. I'm not stupid."

  "I know." She took a deep breath. "Somehow I feel like I've known you forever. Like we've met before or... I don't know. It's stupid."

  My heart skipped a beat. "It's not stupid," I said carefully, wondering if somehow, impossibly, she could sense the truth about the time loops.

  She glanced at me, and the city lights reflected in her eyes, making them look almost luminescent. I should have moved away, should have maintained some distance. Instead, I heard myself say, "I know what you mean."

  She smiled softly, wrapping her arms around her knees again. "Careful," she murmured. "Keep saying things like that and I might start thinking you actually like having me around."

  "Would that be so bad?" Again! The words slipped out before I could stop them.

  "No, I...." Jade hesitated to finish the sentence.

  She let out a shaky breath."We should head back," She said eventually, though she made no move to get up. "I just... I don't want to be alone with my thoughts right now."

  "We can stay as long as you need."

  She nodded slightly, "Thanks again," she said softly. "For not... for not trying to fix everything. Or telling me it'll all be okay."

  We sat there in understanding silence, watching the city lights blur with unshed tears. Some pains couldn't be fixed with words or promises. Sometimes presence was enough.

  Though, one thought unmistakable lingered in my head—Jade’s presence here didn’t align with the cycles I remembered. She didn’t exist in the first or second iterations of the timeline.

  This was something new, something altered.

  My mind churned as the implications settled in. It wasn’t just a coincidence. This confirmed another of my theories: time travel had occurred long before my own arrival, possibly years earlier. Whoever the original time traveler was, they’d left their fingerprints all over this timeline, reshaping it in ways I was only beginning to unravel. Jade was proof of that—a ripple, a deviation from what should have been.

  But why? What was the purpose of rewriting events like this? Was it intentional, or a side effect of something larger?

  I glanced at Jade, her gaze still locked on her home with a soft smile tugging at her lips.

  Who was the time traveler, and what were they trying to achieve?

  I wished I could somehow get some insider information about their motivations and plans.

  This chapter has been edited to make the relationship development feel more grounded.