The crawlspace smelled like rust, old mouse droppings, and the faint metallic promise of freedom that Christna clung to like a lifeline. She moved on elbows and knees through the narrow ventilation shaft, silver hair catching cobwebs that she swiped away with impatient swipes. Every few feet the metal groaned under her weight, a complaining sound that made her wince, but the Chaos Force inside her purred encouragement, warm and mischievous, like a friend whispering, Keepgoing,thisisfun. Her heart hammered with equal parts terror and thrill; she had just thrown three trained agents across her mother's apartment like discarded toys, and the rush still sang in her veins.
Below her, muffled shouts echoed through the building—boots stomping, doors slamming, radios crackling with clipped orders. Elara's voice cut through once, sharp and defiant: "You're too late!" followed by the unmistakable crash of furniture being overturned. Christna's stomach twisted, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. Her mother had bought her seconds, maybe minutes, and wasting them would make the sacrifice pointless. The shaft angled downward, sloping toward the back alley, and Christna slid the last few feet on her belly, emerging through a rusted grate into the narrow space between two brick buildings.
Morning light barely reached here; the alley was a forgotten crack in the city's armor, piled with overflowing dumpsters, broken bottles, and the sour stink of yesterday's rain. Christna pressed her back against the cool brick, breathing hard, violet eyes scanning for movement. The Chaos Force settled into a low, satisfied hum, content for now, like a cat that had knocked a vase off the shelf and was waiting to see what broke next. She allowed herself one small, wicked grin—her first real smile since the knocks at the door. She had power. Real, uncontrollable, terrifying power. And it felt *good*.
She didn't linger. The city wouldn't wait. Christna slipped toward the main street, hood up, hands shoved deep in her pockets to hide the faint violet glow that still licked at her fingertips. Newhaven woke around her in lazy chaos: delivery bikes zipping past, coffee carts steaming, office workers scrolling phones while they walked into poles. Normal life. Boring life. Life she had never truly belonged to. Every time she passed a mirror in a shop window, she saw the stranger staring back—silver-streaked hair, violet eyes hidden behind cheap contacts again, a girl who looked like she belonged nowhere and everywhere at once.
At the corner bodega, she paused long enough to grab a protein bar and a bottle of water with the emergency cash Elara had sewn into her jacket lining. The clerk barely glanced up from his phone, muttering something about "another blackout glitch." Christna almost laughed. Glitch. Sure. The whole city had felt her wake-up call last night, even if they didn't know why their lights had flickered or why their phones had glitched for three seconds. She paid with crumpled bills and slipped out before he could ask questions.
She kept moving, weaving through side streets, avoiding cameras that blinked like sleepy red eyes on every corner. The Chaos Force was quieter now, tucked away like a secret weapon, but it still whispered when she passed other Gifted— a girl juggling water droplets on the sidewalk, a boy levitating his skateboard a few inches off the pavement. Their powers felt small, contained, safe. Christna's felt like a storm trapped in a bottle, and the bottle was cracking.
By noon she reached the Iron District's edge, where abandoned warehouses leaned against each other like tired old men. She found a shadowed loading dock, climbed to the roof, and sat with her back against a rusted vent. The city sprawled below—beautiful, cruel, indifferent. Cars crawled like beetles. Skyscrapers gleamed. Somewhere down there, her mother was either fighting, running, or… Christna pushed the thought away. Elara was smart. Elara was fierce. Elara would find her.
Christna unwrapped the protein bar, took a bite, and let the Chaos Force play idly with the wrapper, making it flutter in midair like a tiny violet butterfly. She watched it dance, a small smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in her life, she wasn't hiding the spark. She was feeding it. And the city? The city had no idea what kind of fire it had just invited to stay for dinner.
Somewhere far below, in the black-windowed building downtown, the suit from the apartment adjusted his tie again. A fresh bruise bloomed along his jaw, but his smile never wavered. He tapped the tablet screen. A new red dot appeared—faint, moving, alive. "She's out," he murmured to the empty room. "And she's not hiding anymore."
The Chaos Force inside Christna laughed softly, delighted.
The game had changed.
And she was finally playing.