I stared at my grandparents, their serene faces untouched by the chaos unfolding around us. They sat as though the world wasn't unraveling, as though the stars above hadn't declared war on the laws of the universe. Their stillness unnerved me, and the weight of their unspoken knowledge gnawed at the edges of my mind.
"How can you be so calm?" I finally blurted out, my voice trembling against the suffocating silence. "How can you act like this is normal?"
Grandfather looked at me, his gaze steady but infinitely distant. "Because it is not ours to change," he said, his tone laced with quiet conviction. "This has been foretold, child. The stars, the eclipses—they are not accidents. Humanity is merely a thread in a larger tapestry."
Foretold? His words rattled me. "You knew this would happen?" I demanded, my fists clenched. "And you said nothing?"
Grandmother's gentle sigh only fueled my frustration. "Knowing is not the same as understanding, Taryn. We do not interfere in what is beyond us."
Before I could argue further, Devon's sharp intake of breath drew my attention. He stood apart, his face pale as he stared at his hands. Shadows spilled from his fingers, twisting and writhing as though alive. The flickering forms resembled flames—dark, hungry flames that licked at the air around him.
"I don't—" he stammered, his voice breaking. "What is this? What's happening to me?" His fear was palpable, etched into every inch of his trembling frame.
The sight froze me in place. Devon's panic was contagious, and I felt the pressure of the unknown tightening around my chest. Before I could respond, Jia let out a piercing shriek. I spun to see her backing away, her arms raised defensively, but it was too late.
Her trembling hands brushed against the distorted light spilling through the window, and in an instant, her skin seared. She cried out, clutching her arm as blisters began to form, the pain evident in her anguished expression.
"Jia!" I lunged toward her, but she recoiled, her tear-streaked face a mixture of shock and horror. "Don't touch me," she gasped. "Don't—" Her voice broke, and she sank to the floor, cradling her burned arm as sobs wracked her body.
Then there it was — a vast feeling that suddenly keeps rushing through me like a second heartbeat, carrying something raw, unshaped, infinite.
Grandfather's gaze locked onto me, sharp, measuring. "You carry something more."
My chest tightened. "What?"
Grandmother's lips parted, whispering something barely audible, but I heard it—felt it.
"Aether."
The air around me shifted, bending—not from wind, but something greater, something unseen. Aether. My veins thrummed, as though the universe had stitched itself into me, bound to something ancient and unfathomable.
Jia stared. "That's not possible."
Devon shook his head. "Aether is a myth—it's the lost element—"
But we all felt it. It was inside me.
The moment the realization struck, the atmosphere shifted again. A pull—something calling, demanding.
Grandfather placed a steady hand on my shoulder. "If it has chosen you, then you must be careful. Aether does not belong to the balance of elements—it exists beyond them."
Jia frowned. "That doesn't sound reassuring."
Devon clenched his jaw. "And if it's dangerous?"
I swallowed, the weight of my own existence suddenly suffocating. Aether.
I wanted to deny it. Wanted to wake up and find the sky had settled, the world had not bent into something new. But it had. And so had we.
Jia paced in front of me, her hands shaking.
"You can feel it, can't you?" I shook my head.
"I don't want to." Devon scoffed, watching his fingers as they dipped into the air—trailing shapes that flickered like ink, shadows curling and stretching with each motion.
"Whether you believe it or not, it's happening." Jia swallowed, her gaze locked onto her palm.
The fire danced there, licking at her skin—alive, shifting. But it did not burn. She had always feared fire, its chaos, its destruction. And yet, here it was, curling in her hand, mending itself, like something that understood it was no longer meant to harm.
She exhaled shakily. "It's healing." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried weight. Fire that did not destroy. Shadows that twisted at Devon's will. And me—something bound to Aether, something limitless. I squeezed my eyes shut.
"I don't know how to control this." Grandmother's voice was steady, though there was something unreadable in her expression. "Then you must learn."
The weight of Grandmother's words hung heavily in the room: "Then you must learn." The silence that followed was almost suffocating, pressing against my chest.
My veins still hummed, carrying something raw and untamed—something ancient, beyond comprehension. Aether. What was it, really? A gift? A curse? Or perhaps both.
Jia's fire flickered in her trembling hand, a reminder of the danger within us. Devon stood motionless, his shadow-flames dissipated, but his face still bore the little marks of fear.
I squeezed my eyes shut, as if the action alone could blot out the impossible truths unraveling before me. Aether. Shadows. Fire that didn't burn. It was too much. My mind screamed against the knowledge, rejecting it over and over. This can't be real. It was a bad dream—a nightmare. I had to wake up.
Opening my eyes, I forced a laugh, shaky and hollow. "This is all a joke, right?" I glanced at Jia and Devon, searching their faces for some flicker of confirmation—a smirk, a roll of the eyes. Anything.
"Come on, guys. You've been planning this all along, haven't you? You got the whole class to play along, didn't you? Human powers? Really? It's like… like something out of a cheap movie."
Jia's fire flickered in her palm, a living contradiction to the words spilling out of me. Her expression hardened. "You think I want this?" she snapped, her voice sharp. "Does this look like a joke to you?" She held up her arm, the blisters from the distorted light still angry and raw against her skin.
Devon shook his head, his gaze dark as he studied the shadows twisting at his fingertips. "You think I wanted this either?" His voice was low, heavy with frustration. "If this were a joke, I wouldn't be able to do this." He swiped his hand through the air, leaving trails of curling ink behind.