The wheels of the plane screeched against the tarmac as it landed at John F. Kennedy
International Airport. The cabin hummed with the rustling of passengers gathering their
belongings, the chiming of seatbelt signs turning off, and the murmur of flight attendants
thanking everyone for their journey.
Evelyn Fairchild sat still, her fingers lightly grazing the streak of blue in her golden hair. The
past few days had been a whirlwind—winning the competition, the accident, the strange
blue stone, the voice. But the thing that haunted her most was the dream.
That boy. Jet-black hair. An intense stare. A presence that felt oddly familiar yet completely
unknown.
She exhaled and shook off the thought. It was just a dream... right?
Gathering her things, she stepped off the plane and into the suffocating hum of New York
City. The moment she exited the terminal, the city's raw energy hit her.
London had its charm, its elegance—but New York was alive, pulsating with chaos and
opportunity in equal measure. Towering billboards, honking taxis, and the smell of coffee
mixed with exhaust fumes. It was overwhelming, but exhilarating at the same time.
A black car pulled up near the curb. Evelyn instantly recognized the man stepping out—Mr.
Harrington, a close friend of her father's and a well-respected faculty member at her new
school.
"Evelyn! Welcome to New York," he greeted warmly, adjusting his glasses. "You must be
exhausted. Let's get you settled in."
Evelyn nodded, sliding into the car. As they drove through the streets, she gazed out the
window, taking in the flashing neon signs, the towering buildings, the people weaving
through traffic like a practiced dance.
And then—
A sharp twinge in her chest.
She winced, clutching her shirt for a brief moment.
Unbeknownst to her, just a few blocks away, Ethan Lockwood's grip tightened on his
steering wheel.
Ethan's Ferrari roared through the streets, its red body slicing through like a streak
of lightning. He barely registered the city around him, only the echo of his father's voice still
clawing at his mind.
"You're a disgrace, Ethan. All that money wasted on a son who refuses to be good at
anything."
His jaw clenched. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator.
He should've been used to it by now—his father's disappointment, the constant
comparisons to his perfect half-brother who was in studying at Vienna, the condescending remarks from his stepmother.
But today, it had been worse.
"Even with all the tutors I pay for, you barely scrape by. If you're not going to be intelligent, at
least be useful."
Ethan's knuckles whitened. Screw that.
The red streaks in his jet-black hair glowed faintly as the Repulsion Stone hummed, as if
sensing his turmoil. It had been inside him for days now, and though he tried to ignore it, it
never truly left him alone.
And right now, it was reacting.
A pulse of something strange—a presence.
For just a second, as he turned onto a new street, his car passed another black sedan going
the opposite direction.
Ethan didn't see her.
Evelyn didn't see him.
But their stones did.
Evelyn arrived at the grand, towering high school Lockwood Academy, one of the most elite
institutions in the city. The halls were pristine, lined with marble columns and elaborate
chandeliers—more a castle than a school.
As she stepped inside, she felt eyes on her. Whispers. Curiosity.
"Who's the new girl?"
"She's British?"
"She's beautiful."
None of it fazed her. She'd dealt with attention before, back in London. But something was
different here.
And then she saw him.
Slouched in the back row of the classroom, dark, brooding, and utterly disinterested in the
world around him.
The moment their eyes met, her stomach twisted.
Ethan felt it too. His heartbeat faltered. The same face from his dream—the girl in the blue
void.
She looked at him with the same confusion—the same recognition.
But neither of them said a word.
Not yet.
After class, Evelyn approached him. She didn't know why—only that something inside her
demanded she do it.
"Hey," she said, stopping in front of his desk. "Ethan Lockwood, right?"
Ethan looked up lazily, his dark eyes scanning her. "And you are?"
"Evelyn Fairchild." She tilted her head slightly. "I think we—"
"You think we what?" he cut her off, voice sharp.
She hesitated. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
Ethan's grip on his pen tightened. His mind screamed yes, but his pride wouldn't let him
admit it.
"Not likely," he muttered, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Stay out of my
way, Fairchild."
Evelyn watched him walk off, brows furrowed. Something about him wasn't normal—not
just the déjà vu, but an underlying energy, like something just beneath the surface.
She wasn't wrong.
The thief who had stolen the Repulsion Stone—the criminal mastermind who had killed his own partner—had spent the last few days tracking Ethan.
Tonight, he made his move.
Ethan had just exited the gym when a shadow moved in the alley beside him.
"You've got something that belongs to me," a rough voice growled.
Ethan turned, his muscles tense. The man stepped into the dim streetlight—average-looking,
unremarkable, but with cold, predatory eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ethan said coolly.
"Oh, I think you do," the man sneered, pulling out a knife. "That stone—it was supposed to
be mine."
Ethan's patience snapped.
Before the thief could react, Ethan moved—faster than he ever had before. The power of the
Repulsion Stone ignited, his reflexes sharper than humanly possible.
A well-placed elbow to the ribs. A brutal kick to the knee. The knife clattered to the ground.
The man barely had time to scream before a red energy surged from Ethan's palm.
A vortex of repelling force swallowed the thief, his body twisting and vanishing into thin air.
The night was silent again.
Ethan exhaled, his fists still clenched.
The Repulsion Stone's voice echoed in his head.
"One down. But the real battle is just beginning."
And somewhere across the city, Evelyn's blue stone hummed in response.
The night after their shared dream, Evelyn Fairchild lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
I know him.
She couldn't shake it—the look in Ethan Lockwood's eyes when they met in the library earlier
that day. The way he dismissed her, cold and distant, like he was trying to shove away
something even he didn't understand.
And yet…
Their dreams. Their connection. The stones.
Evelyn turned her head, gazing at the small nightstand beside her bed. The blue stone rested
there, faintly pulsing with energy. Ever since it bonded with her, something inside her had
shifted. She could feel things—people—differently. As if the world itself was reacting to her
presence.
She clenched her fist. I'm done waiting for answers.
The next morning, she found him exactly where she expected—in the school library, in the
farthest corner, tucked between the tall bookshelves. He sat with his head in his hand, a
textbook open in front of him, but it was obvious he wasn't actually reading it.
Evelyn approached, stepping lightly until she was just across from him.
"I need to talk to you," she said.
Ethan lifted his eyes just enough to acknowledge her, then sighed, rubbing his temple.
"Fairchild. Do you ever take a hint?"
She folded her arms. "Do you ever stop pretending you don't care?"
He tensed. For a second, Evelyn thought she saw something flicker in his eyes, something
guarded—but then it was gone, buried beneath layers of stubbornness.
Ethan shut his book and leaned back in his chair. "Look, whatever weird thing is going on
between us—"
"It's not just 'some weird thing,'" she cut in, voice firm. "You know that. You've felt it, just like
I have."
Ethan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You don't get it. You're new to this—you don't
know how dangerous this power is. I do. And trust me, the best thing you can do is stay out
of my way."
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. "I don't do staying out of the way. And I'm not leaving until you
admit you feel it too."
Ethan's jaw clenched. "Fine."
In an instant, he was on his feet, closing the distance between them. Before she could react,
he grabbed her wrist—not roughly, but firm, unyielding.
"Then prove it," he said lowly.
The moment their skin touched, Evelyn gasped.
Her mind reeled.
Not because of the physical contact—but because suddenly, she knew.
A flood of emotions, memories, and thoughts poured into her consciousness.
—The years of his father's scorn. The pressure. The weight of expectation. The loneliness of never being enough.
—The nights spent training, trying to control a power that felt like it could rip him apart.
—The rage. The sadness. The fear.
Evelyn's breath hitched. I can read his mind.
No.
It wasn't just that.
She could feel him.
The connection between them wasn't just in dreams—it was real, here, now. And somehow,
the stones had linked them deeper than either of them had realized.
Ethan suddenly yanked his hand away, stumbling back. His eyes were wide, his face pale.
He had felt it too.
But before he could say anything, his phone buzzed.
Ethan barely glanced at it—until he saw the notification.
His face fell.
His entire body went rigid.
And then, as if someone had drained all the energy from him, he dropped to his knees.
Evelyn froze. "Ethan?"
He didn't answer.
She hesitated, then slowly walked around the table to look over his shoulder. His phone
screen was still on. A message from his private tutor stared back at her:
Mr. Lockwood, I regret to inform you that I will no longer be able to continue your
lessons. I wish you the best of luck in your studies.
The words themselves weren't harsh. But the impact they had on Ethan was like a gunshot.
Evelyn crouched down beside him, uncertain. She had never seen him like this. He looked…
hollow.
And then, as if drawn into his very being, she saw.
Not just his emotions—but his thoughts.
"If I fail, that's it. I lose the last bit of love my father has for me. I'll be nothing to him."
It was like an open wound. A truth so deeply ingrained in his soul that he didn't even bother
hiding it.
Evelyn's breath caught. "Ethan…"
His fingers curled into fists. He didn't meet her gaze.
She could feel the storm inside him—anger, despair, desperation.
And then, something inside her shifted.
"Let me help you," she said softly.
Ethan finally looked at her, but there was no arrogance in his eyes now—just exhaustion.
"You can't help me," he muttered.
"Yes, I can," she insisted. "You need to pass, right? Then let me tutor you."
He blinked. "What?"
"I'll help you with your studies. In exchange, you train me." She straightened. "I don't know how to control my powers yet, but you do. And if we're connected like this, it makes sense
to learn from each other."
Ethan stared at her. "You want to tutor me? I thought you had self-respect."
Evelyn smirked. "I do. But I also don't let people drown when I can pull them out of the water."
He was silent.
Then, with a breath of reluctant acceptance, Ethan exhaled and ran a hand through his
black-and-red hair.
"…Fine," he muttered. "But if you start giving me homework, I swear to god—"
Evelyn grinned. "Oh, you'll be getting homework."
For the first time in what felt like forever, Ethan let out something that almost sounded like a
chuckle.
Almost.