I woke up in a coffin.
Or, at least, that’s what it felt like.
The ceiling was too low, and the walls were too close. Everything was an unnatural, blinding white. No windows. No sense of time.
Where am I?
What happened—
I sat up fast. Bad idea.
Pain raced through my spine like I’d been struck again, except this time it wasn’t lighting. Just raw, scorched muscle. My hands trembled as I looked down.
The tips of my fingers were still crackling.
Faint blue sparks danced across my skin—except they were tiny, harmless this time. But they were there.
Still there.
I wasn’t dreaming.
My desk. The fire.
The alarms.
The girl.
Oh god.
I nearly threw up.
Then the door slid open.
A line split in the wall I hadn’t even realized was a door. It slid open with a smooth mechanical whisper, and in stepped a man in a charcoal-black coat, his hands tucked behind his back like he was walking through a museum.
He looked to be in his late 30’s. Trimmed beard, silver rimmed glasses. Not a wrinkle on his coat.
His eyes met mine, and I instantly knew two things:
1. He wasn't afraid of me“Good. You’re awake,” he said.
His voice wasn’t soft or harsh, but rather calm. Measured. Like every word had been rehearsed.
“You’ve been out for three days. We’ve stabilized your vitals. Most of the neural feedback has subsided. The voltage spikes are irregular, but within expected thresholds.
I stared at him dumbfounded. “What… does that even mean?”
He stepped closer, stopping just before my bed—if you could even call it a bed.
“It means,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “you’re alive. And very, very lucky.”
“Who are you?”
The man grinned a little, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You can call me Mr. Turner. I’m with the Watch.”
The name hit something in my memory.
“...the Watch?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve heard of us?”
“Everyone’s heard of you.”
The Watch. Security agency. The ones who show up when things explode, people vanish, or cities go dark. The people who made sure power-users stay off the news.
And now… I was in one of their rooms.
Realization hit me.
“You’re containing me.”
“We’re protecting you.”
“Same thing,” I muttered.
A pause. Then Turner offered a small nod, as if to say You’re not wrong.
“You awakened. Violently.”
I looked away. My hands were still sparking. The thought of touching anything terrified me.
“Did I—” My voice cracked. “Did anyone...”
Turner didn’t answer right away. He walked over to a wall panel, tapped a few buttons, and a small screen unfolded from the surface, displaying my school. A photo, not a video. The building was sealed off. Police tape. News vans. A wide hole still gaping in the roof.
He finally spoke.
“One confirmed fatality. Several injured. A full evacuation occurred before structural collapse.”
My throat closed.
He didn’t say her name. He didn’t have to.
I remembered her face. Half-turned toward me. Then gone in a flash of light.
I curled in on myself.
“It’s not your fault,” Turner said, kneeling down beside me.
“I’m a monster.”
“No,” he replied. “You’re a lightning-class anomaly. A very rare type. One we’ve never seen before.”
He let that hang in the air for a minute, like I was supposed to know what that meant. I didn’t. I just wanted to disappear.
Turner crossed the room again, back to the door.
“We’ll monitor you until tomorrow. Then we begin orientation.”
“Orientation?”
“Yes. You’ll need training.” He looked back at me with the faintest flicker of sympathy. “Oh, and forgot to mention this.”
“You’re officially dead, Cael Merrin.”
The door hissed shut.
And I was alone again.
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