Disclaimer:

This work is a piece of fanfiction, created purely for the enjoyment of the fans and not for any monetary benefit.

Rebirth 1.4

I crawled back into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, desperately trying to ignore the conflicted feelings swirling inside me. Armsmaster's words echoed in my mind, his berating tone still fresh in my ears. It wasn't the first time I had felt inadequate, but this time it cut deeper than ever before.

Why does he have to make me doubt myself? I was just beginning to feel like I was something, someone.

As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts turned to my powers over the air. It was both a gift and a curse, a force that I had barely begun to understand. The ability to control the wind, to manipulate the very atmosphere around me, it was something incredible. Yet, no matter how much I honed my skills, it seemed like it would never be enough for Armsmaster. Not unless I was added to the PR collection of wards it seemed.

I thought he had been

Why can't he see how hard I'm trying? How much I've improved?

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the doubts, but they clung to me like a heavy fog. I had come so far since I first discovered my powers, from the scared and lonely girl hiding in the corners of Brockton Bay.

Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm just fooling myself, pretending to be someone I'm not.

Tears welled up in my eyes, a mix of frustration and self-doubt. I wiped them away angrily, refusing to let them fall. I had been through worse, faced greater enemies than Armsmaster's words. I couldn't let him break me down.

Armsmaster's voice continued to echo in my mind, his biting critique of my every move, every decision. Each syllable stung, a reminder of how inadequate I felt compared to the heroes I'd always idolized. Is this what it feels like to meet your heroes? I mused, bitterly. Every word seemed to confirm what the bullies at school, what my own mind whispered in the darkest hours: that I wasn't enough. That no matter what power I had, I was still just Taylor. Weak, insignificant Taylor.

Isn't it enough to be a cape in this city, without having the 'heroes' themselves tearing you down too? I pressed my hands into my hair, clenching and unclenching, the frustration coursing through my veins like a toxin. The room seemed to close in on me, the weight of everything pressing down, making it harder to breathe. I felt the air around me grow tense and restless, reacting to my emotional state, a mirror of the tempest inside me.

I exhaled, trying to control myself.

I lay back, letting the cool air envelope me like a cocoon. If only I could cocoon away from the rest of the world and all its complexities. Just for a moment, I thought, just to breathe... without Armsmaster, without the bullies, without the weight of this new identity I was still trying to understand.

The rhythm of my breathing became more consistent, the cool, evening air gentle against my skin. With every inhale and exhale, I released a bit of the tension, bit of the anxiety, and bit of the anger. The sensation was oddly comforting.

Without realizing it, my eyelids grew heavy and a drowsy haze began to settle in. The last conscious thought I had was of being somewhere peaceful, somewhere the critiques and jeers of others couldn't reach me.


I must have fallen asleep as when I next opened my eyes I was surrounded by fog, trees and…silence.

Around me the fog grew thicker, yet through it, creatures emerged. Their numbers swelled, filling the forest with an eerie cacophony of growls, shrieks, and other indescribable sounds. I could hear the rustling of leaves, the snapping of branches, and a low, ominous hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Every direction I looked, there were bizarre and nightmarish beings. From spiders with human faces, their eyes wide and pleading, to shadowy hounds with tendrils of smoke for tails, each creature was more unsettling than the last. Creatures with multiple heads, eyes that glowed a haunting shade of blue, and skin that shimmered like quicksilver stood alongside beasts made entirely of thorny vines or translucent, gelatinous bodies.

Keep calm, Taylor. They're just part of the dream. Not real. But even as I tried to convince myself, the palpable tension in the air and the creatures' lifelike movements made it impossible to disregard their presence.

Suddenly, without warning, the creatures turned on each other. What had once been a chaotic mixture of every imaginable horror was now a full-blown battle, the creatures attacking with ferocity and abandon. Some creatures used long, whip-like tails to lash at their enemies, while others spat corrosive venom or unleashed ear-piercing screeches.

It was chaos incarnate. I could hardly follow the rapid, erratic movements of these fantastical beasts. They seemed to have no allegiance, no strategy; it was pure, unrestrained violence.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, a clear division emerged. Creatures began to fall in line, forming two distinct groups. A boundary materialized, a clear demarcation between the two opposing sides. The forest seemed to split in two, with each side taking a clear stance, readying themselves for what appeared to be an even more colossal confrontation.

The left side was filled with creatures that seemed to be almost bright in nature. Their movements were graceful, almost choreographed. On the right were the darker, more sinister entities. Shadowy figures, grotesque amalgamations of twisted limbs and features, each one dripping with malice.

A tense silence fell. The only sound was the rustling of the leaves and the rapid beat of my own heart. The two sides stared at each other, waiting for an unseen signal.

And then, with a deafening roar, they charged.

The world shifted and the fog and forest around me shifted into a sandy desert like terrain, my attention was instantly drawn to a distant stone city, surrounded by giant walls, where humans were engaged in a conflict of their own. Unlike the bizarre creatures of the fog world, these were people, just like me, and just like me they were endowed with incredible powers.

Some were manipulating the air, sending gusts of wind that tore at buildings and sent opponents flying. Others wielded the earth itself, raising massive boulders to crush their enemies or creating unbreakable barriers. There were those who commanded fire, their hands ablaze with intense flames that danced and twisted into deadly shapes. And even a few were masters of water, summoning torrents and waves with a mere gesture, washing away all in their path.

Those are powers like mine.

The dream seemed to beckon me closer, urging me to join the fray. Every part of me screamed to stay away, but a part of me wanted to help, and to know why this dream had appeared to me.

With a sense of determination and seemingly against my own intentions, I stepped forward, ready to face whatever awaited me. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend to my will as I moved, the power of the air around me resonating with my own abilities.

The dream was a battlefield, and I was a part of it. A part of the war.

But what am I fighting for?

As I pondered that question, the dream began to shift once again, and I was back in the forest, surrounded by the same insane creatures as before.

The earth shook with the force of their clash. Beaks and jaws gnashed, claws swiped, and shadows battled light, and the very air around me seemed to vibrate with energy.

As the battle raged, I felt the urge to intervene, to use my ability to control the winds and turn the tide of this otherworldly war.

Several more times reality shifted around me, between the stone city and the fog ladened forest.

Between the shifts of reality, the one constant thing was war. My mind struggled to comprehend the scene around me, torn between the mystical fog world filled with unimaginable creatures and the distant stone city, where humans clashed with extraordinary powers. The very essence of conflict seemed to permeate the fabric of this dream, unyielding and relentless.

What is this place? Why does it feel so real, so intense? My mind was filled with questions, but no answers seemed to present themselves. I could only watch, both fascinated and horrified, as the battle raged on.

In the fog world, creatures that defied logic and reason were locked in a never-ending struggle. A toad with the wings of an eagle soared overhead, its croak echoing like thunder as it clashed with a serpent possessing the legs of a lion. An elk walked like a man, its antlers glistening with an unnatural light as it charged into battle with creatures that seemed to have been ripped from the pages of a dark fairy tale.

This can't be real. It's just a dream, a manifestation of my brain's hallucinations. But despite my attempts to reassure myself, the scene felt all too real, the cries of battle ringing in my ears and the tang of blood filling the air.

My surroundings blurred as I was yanked through the thin membrane of the dream. When my vision cleared, I found myself back in the vicinity of the vast stone city. The sounds of battle still roared all around me, but the nature of the fight was decidedly different.

Calm, Taylor. It's just a dream.

From a distance, the city seemed almost normal, with its high stone walls and imposing spires. But the closer I looked, the clearer the devastation became. Large chunks of the city's walls were missing, buildings were aflame, and the ground was scarred with the imprints of battle.

Most prominent, however, were the elementalists locked in their fierce battles. The very earth quaked and rumbled under the might of their powers. I honed in, attempting to categorize the participants.

The majority of the aggressors seemed to be fire users, their flames bright and fierce as they attacked with abandon, rushing the city. Their hands moved with practiced ease, sending plumes of fire towards their enemies. I could almost feel the heat radiating off them, even from this distance.

On the defense were the earth elementalists. Their stance was grounded, firm. With a swift motion of their hands, they would raise barriers of stone and rock, deflecting the fiery assaults. Their control over the terrain was masterful, causing the ground to shift and change at their beck and call.

The defenders are holding their ground, but for how long?

Sprinkled among both sides, though less in number, were the air and water users. The air wielders, like me, seemed to be manipulating the currents around them. Some created whirlwinds, while others redirected the very airflow to disorient their opponents. Their movements were fluid, almost dance-like.

The water elementalists, though fewer in number, were equally formidable. Drawing moisture from the air, or from nearby sources, they would fashion it into weapons: sharp icicles, torrents of water, or even mists to obscure the vision of their foes.

Though I had no reason to choose one side over the other, I felt a calling to the defenders. A desperate sense of need to protect them, to save them. I felt myself take a step forward, and then another. Seemingly against my control I began sprinting towards the conflict, intent on putting an end to the violence.

Just as I got near, as close as 50 feet from the nearest combatants, a shrill scream ripped through the air and the battle paused as everyone looked up searching for the source of the sound.

The scream seemed to stretch on for an eternity. It was a sound filled with raw power, emotion, and urgency. Before I could pinpoint its source, the world became blindingly white, and the sensation of pain, horrible pain overwhelmed me and the brilliant white faded to an all consuming black until there was nothing but darkness.


Suddenly, the tumultuous world of elementalists, bizarre creatures, and stone cities vanished. The deafening roar of the battle was replaced with the familiar hum of a classroom and the low murmurs of students.

My eyes snapped open, and I found myself seated at a desk, head down, drool forming a small puddle near the edge of my open notebook. Around me, Mr. Gladly's class continued, the other students engrossed in their discussion. I quickly wiped away the drool, hoping no one noticed.

Smooth, Taylor. Really smooth.

Mr. Gladly continued writing on the board, seemingly unaware of my brief nap. "Now, as I was saying," he began, "when it comes to the dynamics of the various factions in the city..."

I sighed in relief, realizing that my impromptu nap had gone unnoticed. No new ammunition for Emma and her group today.

The same dream. Over and over again. The realization was accompanied by a dull throb at the base of my skull. Ever since that night, since my talk with Armsmaster, the haunting dreamscape of elemental wars and fantastical creatures plagued my sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was transported back to that place. The intricate details, the tangible fear, the sheer intensity—it was always the same. It was as if a broken record played on a loop in my mind, never progressing, never changing.

I rubbed my temples, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep. The muffled voices of my classmates seemed distant, almost drowned out by the vivid memories of the dream. Even though I was wide awake now, I could still hear the echoes of the shriek that had ended the dream. It always ended that way.

Thankfully, without that agonizing pain.

The first time I'd had the dream, the intensity of that pain had been overwhelming. I'd screamed. A raw, guttural scream, laden with pure terror. The kind of scream that had caused Dad to burst into my room, his face pale and panic-stricken, shaking me awake.

It's just a dream, he'd whispered to me that night, cradling me in his arms. His voice was a mixture of concern and confusion, but his embrace was the anchor I needed in that storm of confusion and fear.

But as the days turned into weeks, the same dream continued to haunt me. And each subsequent dream felt more real than the last. The details became sharper, the battles more intense, and the emotions—especially the emotions—more visceral.

I tried telling Dad about the recurring dream, but I'd left out the parts about the elementalists and the exact nature of the battle. He didn't need to know about my nighttime escapades or the powers I now possessed. But even without those details, he'd become increasingly concerned. He'd even brought up the idea of seeing a therapist, but I quickly shut that idea down. The last thing I needed was to be labeled 'crazy' on top of everything else.

It's not just a dream. I was certain of that. The world of my dream, the elemental wars—it was connected to the power that now coursed through my veins. Connected to that night, to Armsmaster. But how? And why? The answers were elusive, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

A sharp nudge on my shoulder jolted me back to the present. "Taylor!" Madison hissed, her eyes darting to Mr. Gladly and then back to me. "You okay? You kinda zoned out there."

I forced a small smile, surprised by Madison's concern. "Yeah, just... daydreaming, I guess."

"Please, she's obviously just tired from turning late night tricks." Emma chimed in from behind, her voice dripping with mockery.

I bit the inside of my cheek, taking a deep breath. Not now, Taylor. Don't let her get to you.

Madison cast a wary glance between Emma and me, seemingly unsure of which side to take. Emma's laughter filled the air, drawing the attention of a few classmates. Mr. Gladly, sadly, was too engrossed in his lecture to notice.

"You know, Hebert," Emma continued, her voice laced with fake sweetness, "if you need a shoulder to cry on or someone to share your freaky dreams with, I'm here for you."

The sarcasm was unmistakable. But this time, instead of shrinking away, I took a deep breath, channeling the same confidence I felt in my dream.

"Thanks for the offer, Emma," I replied, my voice calm and steady, "but I'd rather share them with someone who can understand complex narratives."

Madison let out a small giggle, quickly stifling it with her hand. Emma's face contorted with rage, but before she could retort, Mr. Gladly's voice cut through the tension.

"Emma, I trust there's nothing you wanted to share with the class?" he asked, his tone firm.

Emma shot me a glare but said nothing, turning her attention back to the front. The small victory lifted my spirits, and I went back to thinking over my intense dream.

Lost in thought, I recalled the feelings I had during it - the fear, the surge of desire to help - there was another layer of emotions. Emotions that felt borrowed. It's as if I'm channeling someone else's feelings, I mused. There was a depth of terror there, a drive to prevent some catastrophe, and an unyielding confidence reminiscent of a seasoned warrior.

The shrill ring of the bell pierced the air, a sudden and jarring reminder of the outside world. I jerked upright in my seat, my heart rate quickening.

That's it? The bell already? I thought, surprised. All the ruminations on my dream, on the emotions, and the realness of it all, had made me lose track of time. And, I realised with a growing smile, that months ago I would've been hyper aware of when the bell would ring.

With that pleasing revelation, I gathered my things and when I left, I was far from the first to leave the class.

Author's Note:

First off, I know Emma isn't typically in Gladly's class, but this is an AU and my AU at that. So she is.

Secondly, thank you all for reading this chapter! Let me know if you're enjoying the story so far, and feel free to ask any questions. Would love to hear any thoughts or ideas as well!

I feel like I've planted enough seeds to go down various roots once my plants sprout, not sure which ones will flourish and which will die off though. Let me know if you think you've spotted certain seeds and their intended paths, some of them are fairly obvious I think.

Q/A

Kateri87- Thank you, and yea I just sorta felt like Piggot should be pretty ticked off that a prospective ward got turned away, especially an aerokinetic who might be a counter to Storm Tiger.

Blaze1992- Ha, I totally get what you mean. Personally I somewhat thought of her as a Firebender, but there is a reason as to her initial Airbender status.

Guest- Yea, I feel like Armsy get's a bit more flack then he should. He is a total ass who is willing to make somewhat immoral decisions early on, but overall his goals are intended well.