Stella University:
Ring, ring, ring…
Rani groaned, burying her face in her pillow as the obnoxious alarm blared.
"Jade, please turn off your alarm. It's barely five in the morning…"
"Nope!" Jade chirped as she slipped into her jogging outfit, pulling her blonde hair back into a tight ponytail.
"We're going for a jog!" she declared, dashing across the room and yanking the covers off Rani.
"No! I'm not built for athletic stuff—you're the one with Aether abilities, not me!" Rani protested, pulling the blanket back over herself.
"Exactly why you need to be fit enough to run away from a Withered—or worse, a Rifthound," Jade shot back with a grin, tossing Rani's sneakers at her.
Rani sighed in defeat, dragging herself out of bed. But then she paused. That feeling again… She felt it yesterday at the end of class, too. A strange sensation she couldn't place.
"Rani? You good?" Jade asked, her expression shifting to concern.
"It's nothing," Rani replied quickly, forcing a smile. She didn't want Jade to worry. It was probably nothing…
She quickly changed out of her pajamas, slipping into something more suitable for a morning jog.
Once changed, the two girls headed out for the morning jog, though Rani struggled to keep up with Jade's pace.
"And this," Jade said with a smirk, "is exactly why you need to work out, Rani. If we were getting chased, you'd be the first one eaten."
Rani wiped the sweat off her face with a towel and nodded. She knew of the dangers of a rift and one of those things can come through and she would be vulnerable against it unless properly prepared for it of course.
"How's your brother doing these days? Been a while since I last saw him," Jade said casually.
"He's working retail," Rani replied.
"What? Why is he working there?" Jade asked.
"Well, it was the only place that would hire him without a diploma," Rani said, folding her arms. "But once I get some pull in the agency, I'm going to help him out."
"Damn, Rani—already planning your rise to the top," Jade said with a grin.
But then Rani's phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out, expecting a class alert—
But it froze.
A message. From an unknown number.
She tapped it open.
Her breath caught.
It was a video. Her brother—locked in a cell.
At the bottom of the screen, a message blinked:
"Pay us 200,000 eons or he dies."
Unknown location:
"My head… it hurts," Michael groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead, putting pressure. Immediately, pain struck him like a dagger.
He quickly pulled his hand away. Right—he'd been hit with a bat.
His head throbbed like it was on fire as he glanced around, taking in his surroundings. A rusty bucket, a thin layer of bedding on the damp concrete, and cold metal bars.
It's a cell.
Hey, they didn't kill me… which means they are going to use me as leverage.
His sister was going to murder him once she found out the mess he was in.
She didn't even know he was ever part of a gang—or that he'd taken a loan from them.
She thought the insurance had covered everything… but those were just more lies he let her believe.
As for her safety, he was still worried—he couldn't help it. But then he reminded himself: his sister was in the safest place in all of Astralis—Stella University.
The Bulldogs might be reckless, but even they weren't stupid enough to mess with the government and its agencies that fund that school.
They'd probably send her footage of him—use it as leverage, demand payment. But with Victor now in charge, who knew what that muscle-headed maniac was thinking?
Now, a good question.
How the hell do I get out of here?
Maybe he could jump whoever was assigned to watch him—if he even had a caretaker. But the,n who knows how many more there are outside?
He also needs to take account Aether users. Pretty sure only Victor had an affinity to fire, that's pretty much why he is in a position of power, those with Aether abilities are superior human beings to your average person.
And as for me, sure, I could fight, but I don't have any Aether abilities. I'm just a sore loser.
His only hope now if someone has reported his kidnapping.
He was taken right in front of Bostco in broad daylight!
There's no way no one saw it. And if they didn't, they must've been blind.
Best case scenario? The police bust in and save him.
All he could do now was pray they were looking for him
Now, where's the person who's supposed to be watching me? Don't tell me they're not even going to feed me.
"Hello?"
Helloo?"
No response. Of course.
Michael clenched his fist and slammed it against the cold concrete wall.
"If that bastard had just let me fight in the ring again, I would've had the money in no time…"
Wait a minute…
His pain was gone?
Michael touched his forehead—no throbbing, no ache. The pain from earlier, the injuries… gone. He hadn't even noticed when it disappeared.
Weird.
Now that he thought about it, he and his sister had never gotten sick—not once. His father used to say never to tell anyone about it. Maybe now wasn't the best time to dwell on that, especially while locked up like a prisoner… but it's not like he had anything else to do.
Lying down on the cold floor, he used his arm as a pillow, eyes fixed on the ceiling above.
That dream kept replaying in his mind—there was an infant in it. Was that… him? Had he been the baby, too?
Was his subconscious trying to tell him something?
Michael let out a heavy yawn. "Doesn't look like anyone's coming to check on me," he muttered. "Might as well try to sleep… maybe even think of a deal to make with Victor."
His eyes slowly shut as he tried to fall asleep, but the cold, hard floor made it nearly impossible, even with the thin layer of bedding beneath him.
Then, something strange happened. The feeling of the hard concrete gradually faded, replaced by something softer beneath him.
Confused, he stayed still, not daring to open his eyes.
Chirp. Chirp.
Birds?
Why was he hearing birds in a cell?
Michael slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the soft glow of sunlight filtering through pale pink petals.
Above him, the branches of a cherry blossom tree arched overhead, swaying gently with the breeze.
Petals drifted down like snowflakes, soft and silent, brushing against his face before settling in the grass around him.
His breath caught in disbelief.
Where the hell was he?