Esme traced the crayon marks on the wall, her fingers ghosting over the uneven ridges. A quiet moment of stillness. But then—her body tensed.
Something was off.
A whisper of movement. A shift in the air.
Trap.
She didn't think—she moved.
With a sharp inhale, Esme launched herself backward.
CRASH!
Two small lab beakers shattered where she had been standing a split second ago. A noxious scent filled the air, sharp and biting. The liquid sizzled on impact, eating away at the wooden floor, leaving behind deep, blackened marks.
Acid.
A fraction of a second slower, and it would have been her skin melting instead of the floor.
Then—another attack.
A kick came from the side.
Esme twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the strike. Before she could even land, she felt the force of another incoming hit—a fist aiming straight for her back.
Her muscles reacted before her mind could catch up.
