Emily ran until her lungs burned, the energy from her outburst still buzzing beneath her skin. The city blurred past her in streaks of neon and shadow, but she barely registered the sights. Every instinct screamed at her to keep moving, to find cover before the Bureau caught up with her.
She turned sharply down an alley and pressed herself against the cold brick wall, gasping for breath. Her mind was spinning. The agent had known her name. They'd been watching her. But why? And how much did they really know about what was happening to her?
Her fingers twitched involuntarily, tiny arcs of shimmering light flickering at her fingertips. She clenched her hands into fists, forcing herself to focus. She needed answers. But first, she needed to get away.
The Surveillance Van
"Damn it, we lost her," one of the agents muttered, staring at the screen displaying the scrambled surveillance feed. Static crawled over the image, distorting what should have been a clear view of Emily's escape.
The driver tapped his earpiece. "Control, this is Team Delta. The subject has evaded visual. Awaiting further instruction."
A crackle of interference, then Darling's voice came through, steady and measured. "Hold your position. We don't want to spook her into doing anything reckless. We need her cooperative."
The agent at the monitor scoffed. "Cooperative? Did you see what she did to Agent Nolan? She doesn't trust us. Hell, I don't blame her."
A tense silence filled the van before the radio crackled again. This time, it was Trench. "We can't afford to wait. Initiate containment protocol. Find her before she finds out what she's really capable of."
The Oldest House
Darling's hands hovered over the control panel, his fingers flexing in hesitation. The data stream scrolling across the screen was erratic, pulsing with spikes of Resonance energy. Emily's abilities were growing faster than expected.
Trench stood behind him, arms crossed, his gaze dark. "You're hesitating, Darling."
Darling sighed, rubbing his temples. "She's not an enemy, Zach. She's scared, confused. If we push too hard—"
"She becomes a bigger threat," Trench finished. He exhaled sharply. "I'm not willing to take that risk. Are you?"
Darling didn't answer. He knew the Bureau's history, knew what happened to those deemed uncontrollable. He just wasn't sure if Emily was one of them.
Elsewhere
Emily had made it several blocks before she slowed down, ducking into an abandoned warehouse on the city's outskirts. The space was cavernous and empty, except for the faint hum of old machinery.
She crouched in the shadows, trying to steady her breathing. But something felt… off. The air shimmered faintly around her, like heat distortion on pavement.
A low, echoing voice whispered through the space. Not words, but something deeper, older. Something pulling at the edges of her mind.
Emily's pulse spiked. She wasn't alone.
The Oldest House - Monitoring Room
Alarms flared to life. Darling's head snapped up as readings spiked across multiple screens. He typed furiously, pulling up a live Resonance feed.
"Oh no," he whispered.
Trench stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at the fluctuating data. "What is it?"
Darling's throat was dry. "She's making contact."
Trench's jaw tightened. "With what?"
Darling turned to face him, his expression grim. "The Astral Plane."