Emily sprinted through the crowded market, her breath ragged, her heart thundering against her ribs. Blood smeared her face and hands—some her own, some not. The kitchen knife in her right hand dripped crimson, and the loaded handgun in her left felt impossibly heavy. People recoiled at her approach. Mothers clutched their children and darted behind stalls; men froze, their faces pale with terror. Whispers trailed behind her like ghosts.

“Monster,” someone muttered.

She barely noticed. Her focus was singular—a boy in her peripheral vision, the swirling tattoo of a Seer marking his eye. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment. His widened with fear before he bolted.

Emily’s chest tightened with a mix of relief and dread. Got you.

She gave chase, shoving through the crowd. A fruit stand toppled in her path, apples and oranges scattering underfoot, but she barely broke stride. Her breath burned in her throat, her legs screaming for relief, but she pressed on, fueled by desperation.

Bang!

The gunshot tore through the chaos. Gasps rippled through the crowd, and like the parting sea, people scattered, clearing her path. The boy ducked into an apartment building. Emily followed without hesitation.

The lobby reeked of mildew and desperation, the fluorescent lights flickering above like dying stars. The boy was quick, always just out of reach, weaving through a maze of broken furniture and cowering residents.

Bang!

The boy fell with a scream, his right knee a burst of red. He crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg, his sobs mingling with the muffled cries of onlookers pressed against the walls.

Emily froze, the realization of what she’d done crashing over her like a wave. The knife slipped from her trembling hand and clattered to the ground. Her vision blurred with tears, mixing with the blood smeared on her cheeks.

“Em?”,

 The voice was familiar, cutting through the haze of guilt. She turned, her chest tightening further.

“Daryl?” she choked, barely able to form the words.

Her family friend stepped forward, his face a mask of shock and disappointment. “What are you doing here?” His eyes flicked to the boy, then back to her. “And with a kid?”

Her stomach twisted. “He’s a Seer!” she protested, the words tumbling out in a desperate plea.

“What he is, is a child,” a cold voice interrupted.

Emily turned to see a man in a pristine red suit, his slicked-back black hair gleaming under the flickering lights. He stood out like a predator among prey, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Emily fell to her knees, her hands clutching at her hair, the weight of guilt and shame too much to bear. Tears spilled freely now, carving clean trails through the blood on her face.

“Monster,” the word echoed in her mind, louder than the man’s judgmental stare, louder than the boy’s pained sobs.

She didn’t notice the cloaked figure behind her until the cold press of a gun barrel touched the back of her skull. The sound of metal meeting flesh was impossibly loud, and she froze, every nerve in her body screaming at her to move, but she couldn’t.

Then came the roar of fire. A wave of searing heat washed over her, and the gun was gone—no, the man was gone. Vaporized in an instant, his scream cut short by the relentless inferno.

Hound stood there, his blackened skin crackling with heat, his silver eyes fixed on the boy. Smoke curled around him, thick and suffocating, as if the flames themselves feared his presence.

He tossed a length of rope onto the ground beside Emily. “Bind him,” he said, his voice reverberating like distant thunder.

Emily’s stomach turned. She scrambled to her feet, her trembling hands clenched into fists. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Her voice broke, raw with betrayal.

“I don’t see everything,” Hound replied, his gaze steady. “Just enough to shape the outcome.”

She stepped closer, grabbing the fallen gun and pointing it at his head. Her hands shook violently, but her aim was steady. “Did you know?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Did you know this is what I’d become? A murderer?!”

“There are many futures, Emily,” he said, his voice calm, detached. “I can’t predict them all. But this future… it was the one that ensured I caught him.” He gestured to the boy, who lay trembling, tears streaking his dirtied face.

“Future this, future that,” she spat, tears streaming anew. “Do you ever think about how your choices destroy the lives of everyone around you?!”

Hound’s eyes flickered, but he said nothing.

“Take him and leave,” she hissed, tossing the rope back at him. “I want nothing more to do with you.”

For a moment, Hound didn’t move. Then he crouched, tying the boy’s hands with the rope. His body cooled just enough to avoid burning the boy as he hoisted him over his shoulder. Without a word, he turned and walked out, his footsteps heavy with the weight of her anger.

Emily sank to the floor, the gun slipping from her hands. The market noise outside seemed impossibly distant now, her sobs the only sound she could hear.

Her hands, stained with blood, wouldn’t stop shaking.

Monster.