The south parking lot was eerily quiet, the rows of cars bathed in the orange glow of sunset. Ikenna crouched behind a beat-up pickup truck, his backpack clutched tightly against his chest as he scanned for any sign of campus security. The lot, once filled with the constant flux of students coming and going, now felt like a graveyard of abandoned metal. Many vehicles hadn't moved since the golden rain, their owners having fled campus or succumbed to the fever.

  His phone vibrated against his thigh. Sarah's message was brief: Almost there. Coast clear?

  Ikenna typed a quick affirmative, then slipped the phone back into his pocket. A chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the cooling evening air. The pressure behind his eyes had been building steadily for the past hour, like a storm front moving in. Another vision was coming, rger than the fragmented glimpses he'd been experiencing. He could feel it looming, hovering just beyond the edge of his consciousness.

  Not now, he silently pleaded. Just hold off a little longer.

  The familiar hum of Sarah's Honda approached, headlights off to avoid attracting attention. Relief washed over him as the car pulled alongside his hiding spot. He yanked open the passenger door and slid inside, tossing his backpack onto the back seat.

  "Drive," he said, voice tight with urgency. "Anywhere but here."

  Sarah gave him a quick, searching look, her face pale in the dashboard light. She looked different—thinner, with dark circles under her eyes, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Like everyone these days, she wore yers despite the warm weather—easier to hide in, she'd told him once. "You want to tell me why campus security is suddenly interested in you?" she asked, but put the car in gear without waiting for an answer. The Honda rolled quietly through the lot, only turning its headlights on as they approached the exit.

  "It's complicated," Ikenna said, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, watching the campus recede behind them. The pressure in his head built further, making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. "I need to get out of town. I need to get to Nevada."

  "Nevada?" Sarah's eyebrows shot up. "That's—Ikenna, that's like two days of driving. At least."

  "I know. I know it's a lot to ask, but—" He broke off as a wave of dizziness hit him. The world seemed to tilt sideways, colors bleeding at the edges of his vision. "I can't expin everything right now, but I think you know something's happening to me. To all of us."

  Sarah was quiet for a long moment, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. They passed an intersection where a police cruiser sat idle, its lights off but a uniformed officer clearly visible inside, watching the passing traffic with suspicious eyes. Further down, spray-painted across the brick wall of a convenience store, fresh graffiti gleamed in the fading light: "RAIN FREAKS = DEATH." The paint was still wet in pces, dripping down the bricks like blood.

  "Yeah," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think I do." Her eyes flickered to the graffiti, then back to the road. "Two weeks ago, I dropped a mug. Full cup of coffee, should have gone everywhere." She hesitated, as if deciding whether to continue. "Instead, I just... caught it. Without touching it. Like I reached out with my mind and just held it there."

  Ikenna turned to stare at her, his own discomfort momentarily forgotten. "You have abilities too?"

  She nodded, her face tight with anxiety. "Nothing spectacur. I can move small objects if I concentrate hard enough. It gives me migraines if I try anything bigger than a coffee mug. Useful party trick, I guess, if parties were still a thing and if I wasn't terrified of ending up like that guy in Fresno."

  Ikenna winced at the reference. Everyone had seen that viral video—a college student demonstrating his new ability to manipute fire, surrounded by cheering friends, until the fmes suddenly erupted beyond his control. The screams still echoed in Ikenna's nightmares.

  "Sarah, I—" he began, but the words died in his throat as the pressure in his head peaked. The world around him fractured, reality splitting along invisible seams.

  The vision took him with the force of a riptide.

  A gas station off a rural highway, its windows boarded up, pumps dry for weeks. A desperate crowd surrounded a military tanker truck, voices rising in anger as a soldier with a megaphone expined there wasn't enough fuel for everyone. A woman at the back of the crowd, her face gaunt with hunger, raised her hands in frustration—and the ground beneath the truck trembled, cracking. The crowd fell silent in horror, then someone screamed "She's one of them!" and chaos erupted.

  The scene shifted to a university boratory, where harried researchers in wrinkled b coats hunched over microscopes and computer screens. Sample vials of cloudy golden liquid lined racks, each beled with different dates and locations.

  "The isotopic composition makes no sense," a gray-haired scientist muttered, rubbing bloodshot eyes. "It's like nothing on the periodic table."

  "Whatever it is, it's rewiring cellur structures," her colleague replied, gesturing to a screen showing time-pse footage of pnt cells rapidly mutating. "But the patterns are inconsistent. Sometimes it enhances, sometimes it destroys. We need more time."

  "Time is what we don't have," said a man in a rumpled suit, his government ID badge swinging as he paced. "People are dying, and Washington wants answers yesterday. The military thinks we're under attack."

  An explosion rocked the building, arms bring. Through the boratory window, smoke billowed from another part of the campus.

  "They're here!" someone shouted. "The Purifiers found us!"

  The scene changed again. A rural police station, its front window shattered, officers standing guard with shotguns as a growing crowd gathered across the street. Their signs ranged from hastily scrawled cardboard ("GOD'S JUDGMENT") to professionally printed pcards ("PROTECT HUMAN PURITY").

  Inside, a sheriff's deputy handcuffed a terrified teenager to a radiator, ignoring his protests.

  "Please," the boy begged, tears streaming down his face. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. It just happened!"

  "Save it," the deputy growled. "We all saw what you did to the Miller boy. State troops will be here tomorrow. They've got special pces for freaks like you now."

  The vision fractured into a kaleidoscope of brief, jarring scenes:

  A National Guard checkpoint on a highway, soldiers with fever-detection goggles scanning every passenger.

  A community meeting in a church basement, people arguing bitterly about whether to shelter an Enhanced family who had been driven from their home.

  A boratory where exhausted scientists tested a crude metal colr on a volunteer, his pained screams when it malfunctioned making them flinch away.

  A convoy of military vehicles escorting buses with bcked-out windows through empty streets.

  A forest where pnts had grown to impossible sizes, their roots cracking through bedrock, strange luminescent flowers pulsing like heartbeats.

  And finally, a small town in the Nevada desert, buildings weathered by sun and wind. A sign at the outskirts read "Welcome to Meridian's Crossing." The town seemed ordinary at first gnce, but as the vision's perspective pulled closer, strange details emerged—subtle distortions in the air, like heat mirages but more structured. Patterns that flickered at the corner of perception.

  In the town square, the two figures from Ikenna's earlier visions stood in conversation. The young Asian woman looked up suddenly, as if sensing something, her ancient book clutched protectively against her chest. The tall man beside her followed her gaze, his skin briefly rippling with geometric patterns.

  They were looking directly at Ikenna's perspective, as if they could see him watching them through the vision.

  "He's coming," the woman said. "But the path is growing more dangerous. The world is fracturing faster than we anticipated."

  "Ikenna! IKENNA!"

  Sarah's voice jerked him back to reality. The car had pulled over to the shoulder of the road, hazard lights blinking. Sarah was gripping his shoulders, shaking him, her face twisted with fear.

  "You were out for almost five minutes," she said, her voice trembling. "Your eyes were open, but you weren't seeing anything. And you were talking in—I don't even know what nguage that was."

  Ikenna gasped, lungs burning as if he'd been holding his breath underwater. His entire body shook with the aftereffects of the vision, more intense and coherent than any he'd experienced before. He could still see the images burned into his retinas—desperate crowds, frightened scientists, the town in Nevada where two strangers somehow knew he was coming.

  "I saw..." he began, then swallowed hard, mouth dry. "I saw what's happening. Everywhere. It's worse than the news shows. People are starving, fighting over resources. And anyone who shows signs of being changed—they're being hunted, imprisoned."

  Sarah's hands dropped from his shoulders, her expression hardening. "I've heard rumors. My cousin in Texas said some towns are forming 'safety committees' to identify and 'contain' Enhanced individuals." She made air quotes around the sanitized words, her disgust evident. "But the government's saying it's just isoted incidents, not policy."

  "It's happening everywhere, just differently. State by state, town by town." Ikenna pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, trying to organize the chaotic flood of information. "Some pces are offering protection, but in others... it's becoming dangerous to even be suspected of having abilities."

  Sarah sat back in her seat, silent for a long moment. Outside, cars occasionally rushed past, headlights briefly illuminating her troubled face.

  "That's why you need to get to Nevada," she finally said. It wasn't a question.

  Ikenna nodded. "There's a town called Meridian's Crossing. Two people are waiting there—I think they're like us, but more experienced. They know I'm coming somehow." He hesitated, then added, "I think they might know how to help us understand these abilities. Control them."

  "Before we end up colred or caged," Sarah finished for him.

  "Exactly."

  Sarah took a deep breath, hands returning to the steering wheel. "I have an aunt in Reno. She's been texting me to come stay with her since the rain started. Said it's safer away from major popution centers." She gnced at Ikenna. "Nevada's a big state, but it gives us a destination that won't raise eyebrows if we're stopped."

  "You're coming with me?" Ikenna hadn't dared to hope for this.

  "You think I'm letting you face whatever this is alone?" Sarah gave him a weak smile. "Besides, it sounds like I could use some training too, unless I want to spend the rest of my life only able to save falling coffee mugs."

  Relief flooded through him. "Thank you," he said simply.

  Sarah pulled back onto the highway, the car accelerating westward. "So, what's our first stop? We can't drive straight through without rest."

  "We need supplies. And information." Ikenna pulled out his phone, scrolling through local news alerts. "We should find somewhere to stop for the night, see what we can learn about what's happening. And—" He broke off, staring at his screen.

  "What is it?" Sarah asked, gncing over with concern.

  Ikenna turned the phone toward her. A local news site showed live footage of their university campus, where multiple police vehicles had surrounded the dormitories, lights fshing. The headline read: "SECURITY SWEEP AT UNIVERSITY AFTER ENHANCED INDIVIDUAL REPORTS."

  "That could be anyone," Sarah said, but her voice cked conviction.

  "It's me," Ikenna said quietly. "The security officers who searched my room—they found my notebooks. All my visions, everything I wrote down."

  Sarah's foot pressed harder on the accelerator, her face grim in the glow of the dashboard lights. "Then we definitely can't go back. We need to get as far away as possible before they put out a wider alert."

  For the next hour, they drove in tense silence, sticking to less traveled roads when possible. They passed shuttered businesses, houses with windows boarded up, makeshift checkpoints manned not by police but by local residents with shotguns and suspicious eyes. Spray-painted warnings marked territory: "NO FREAKS," "HUMANS ONLY," "GOD'S JUDGMENT." Twice they detoured around National Guard roadblocks, relying on back roads that Sarah somehow knew.

  "My brother's a trucker," she expined when Ikenna asked about her knowledge of alternate routes. "Before the networks went spotty, he was texting me updates on which roads were safe, which ones had checkpoints."

  The small town they finally chose to stop in seemed retively calm—no obvious signs of destruction or panic. A half-filled parking lot at a supermarket suggested some sembnce of normalcy, though Ikenna noticed the armed security guard watching from the entrance, his hand resting too casually on his holstered weapon.

  "We should stock up," Sarah said, pulling into a gas station. "Who knows when we'll find another pce with supplies."

  The gas station's convenience store was dimly lit, its shelves half-empty. A bored-looking clerk gnced up from his phone as they entered, then returned to mindlessly scrolling. Behind the counter, a small television pyed a news broadcast with the sound muted, closed captions scrolling across the screen.

  While Sarah gathered food and water, Ikenna drifted closer to the counter, pretending to examine energy drinks while reading the news captions.

  "...THIRD WEEK OF NATIONWIDE FUEL RATIONING AS REFINERIES STRUGGLE WITH WORKER SHORTAGES... PRESIDENT URGES CALM AMID GROWING UNREST... NEW REPORTS OF ENHANCED VIGILANTES TAKING JUSTICE INTO THEIR OWN HANDS IN CHICAGO SUBURB..."

  The screen changed to footage of a massive goril-like creature perched atop a Chicago skyscraper, its silver skin gleaming in helicopter searchlights. The caption identified it as "THE SILVER KONG," now estimated to be controlling a six-block radius of downtown Chicago. Military vehicles surrounded the area, but kept their distance.

  "Crazy, isn't it?" the clerk said, noticing Ikenna's attention. "That thing used to be a regur goril at the zoo. Now look at it." He shook his head. "My cousin in Iowa says they've got pigs the size of buses rampaging through the countryside. Says the military can't even stop them."

  Ikenna made a noncommittal sound, not wanting to engage too much.

  "You folks passing through?" the clerk asked, eyeing Ikenna's backpack.

  "Yeah, heading to visit family," Ikenna replied, the lie coming easily now.

  The clerk nodded slowly. "Well, if you're going west, be careful. Highway patrol's got checkpoints every fifty miles or so. Checking for fever, they say, but everyone knows what they're really looking for." He tapped his temple meaningfully.

  "Thanks for the warning," Ikenna said, grabbing a couple of energy drinks and moving toward Sarah, who was filling a basket with bottled water and non-perishable food.

  "Ready?" he asked quietly.

  She nodded, gncing at the clerk. "He ask any questions?"

  "Just the usual. Warned us about checkpoints heading west."

  Sarah's mouth tightened. "We'll stay on secondary roads as much as possible."

  After paying for their supplies—cash only, as Sarah pointed out that credit cards could be traced—they refueled the car and checked the local motel. The neon VACANCY sign flickered erratically, bathing the nearly empty parking lot in an inconsistent red glow.

  "Wait here," Sarah said as she parked. "I'll get us a room."

  While she went to the office, Ikenna connected to the motel's open Wi-Fi, searching for more information. Cellur networks had become unreliable in many areas, with towers damaged or overloaded, making Wi-Fi connections precious opportunities for information gathering.

  Social media was a chaotic mess of panic, conspiracy theories, and desperate pleas. One viral thread featured people posting about family members who had vanished after showing signs of enhancement. Another showed maps of "safe zones" where Enhanced individuals were allegedly being protected, though many commenters dismissed these as traps.

  News sites painted a picture of a country coming apart at the seams. National Guard deployments in twelve states. Food shortages in major cities. Schools closed indefinitely. A fragmented government response, with some states decring emergencies while others insisted they had the situation under control.

  Most disturbing were the scattered reports of what some were calling "Purifier" groups—citizens who had taken it upon themselves to identify and "cleanse" their communities of the "rain-tainted." Their methods ranged from forced expulsion to much darker actions that the news sites described in sanitized terms.

  Sarah returned with a key card, her expression grim. "Room 115. The manager was watching a news report about what they're calling an 'Enhanced incident' in Denver. Some teenager tried to stop a mugging using what looked like electrical abilities. Ended up electrocuting himself and three bystanders. All dead."

  "Another person who didn't understand what was happening to them," Ikenna said quietly as they grabbed their bags and headed toward the room. "It's like giving someone a loaded gun without instructions or safety training."

  The motel room was basic but clean—two beds with faded bedspreads, a small table with two chairs, a TV bolted to the wall. Sarah locked the door behind them, then dragged a chair over to wedge under the handle for good measure.

  "Force of habit tely," she expined when Ikenna raised an eyebrow. "The world feels less safe than it used to."

  She turned on the TV, keeping the volume low as they unpacked their supplies. A news anchor in a wrinkled suit was reporting on the test government initiative: "...the Health and Human Services Department has established what they're calling 'Adaptation Assistance Centers' in major cities. These facilities will offer voluntary screening and support for individuals experiencing changes following exposure to the golden rain phenomenon..."

  "Voluntary. Right," Sarah scoffed, setting bottled water on the table. "Like those 'voluntary' quarantine camps during the pandemic."

  "Some of them might actually be trying to help," Ikenna said, though his own visions left him doubtful. "Not everyone in government has sinister motives."

  "Maybe not sinister, but they're desperate and scared like everyone else," Sarah replied. "And desperate, scared people with power are dangerous."

  They settled in, spreading their research materials across one of the beds—printed maps marked with their pnned route, news articles Sarah had torn from newspapers along the way, and Ikenna's notebook filled with sketches and notes from his visions.

  "So what exactly can you do?" Sarah asked finally, sitting cross-legged on her bed. "Besides the visions, I mean."

  "I'm not sure there is anything besides the visions," Ikenna admitted. "At least, not that I've discovered yet. But the visions themselves are evolving, becoming clearer, more controlled. At first, they just happened to me, random fragments I couldn't make sense of. Now I can sometimes direct them, pull on specific threads to see more."

  "That's more useful than moving coffee cups," Sarah said with a half-smile. "At least you get information."

  "Information we can't prove or directly act on," Ikenna countered. "And the visions take a physical toll. Headaches, nosebleeds sometimes. If I could learn to control them better..." He trailed off, thinking of the two figures in Meridian's Crossing.

  Sarah was quiet for a moment, then asked hesitantly, "Have you tried practicing? With your ability, I mean."

  Ikenna shook his head. "Not deliberately. I've been too afraid of drawing attention. Or of seeing something I can't handle." He paused, then added, "But maybe I should. If these visions are trying to show me something important, I should learn to direct them better."

  "Maybe I should practice too," Sarah said, eyeing the pstic ice bucket on the table. She extended her hand toward it, brow furrowing in concentration. The bucket trembled slightly, then slowly rose about an inch off the table, wobbling precariously.

  Ikenna watched, fascinated. "How does it feel when you do that?"

  "Like..." Sarah's voice was strained, "like there's an invisible muscle I never knew I had. When I flex it, I can push or pull things. But it gets tired really quickly." As if to demonstrate her point, the bucket cttered back to the table. She winced, pressing fingers to her temple. "And yes, headaches. Every time."

  "Maybe that's the key," Ikenna mused. "Treating these abilities like muscles that need to be conditioned gradually. People are trying to do too much, too fast."

  "Makes sense," Sarah agreed. "No one expects to bench press 300 pounds the first time they go to the gym. Why would maniputing energy or matter be any different?"

  Ikenna nodded slowly, an idea taking shape. "What if we took turns practicing? Small, controlled experiments. Nothing fshy that might draw attention."

  "Strength training for the supernaturally gifted?" Sarah grinned, the first genuine smile he'd seen from her in weeks. "I'm in."

  For the next hour, they took turns—Sarah gradually increasing the size and weight of objects she moved, Ikenna attempting to deliberately trigger small visions by focusing on specific questions or objects. The results were mixed; Sarah managed to lift the remote control and even one of the pillows, though each success left her more drained. Ikenna found he could sometimes glimpse fragmented images reted to objects he touched, but the visions remained frustratingly incomplete and random.

  Once, when Sarah attempted to lift a chair, it flew upward unexpectedly, crashing into the ceiling before she lost control, sending it tumbling down with a loud bang. They froze, hearts racing, waiting for someone to investigate the noise. After a tense minute of silence, they agreed to stick to smaller objects.

  "It's a start," Sarah said finally, flopping back on her bed, exhaustion evident in every line of her body. "But we have a long way to go before we're doing anything useful with these abilities."

  "At least we're trying to understand them," Ikenna said, rubbing his temple where a dull ache had settled. "That's more than most people have the chance to do right now."

  He picked up the remote and turned up the volume slightly on the TV, where a special report was beginning. A somber anchor introduced footage from what appeared to be a congressional hearing.

  "...where representatives from the newly established Department of Public Safety and Anomaly Response are testifying about their efforts to address the growing crisis."

  The camera showed a panel of grim-faced officials facing a congressional committee. A woman in a navy suit was speaking, her voice clipped and professional.

  "Our preliminary research into what scientists are calling 'Strataforce' is ongoing, but we can confirm this energy source is responsible for the physiological changes observed in both humans and animals. We are establishing regional assessment centers to help affected individuals understand and manage their conditions."

  "And how exactly are these individuals being 'managed'?" asked a skeptical-looking congressman.

  The woman's professional demeanor didn't waver. "Those dispying abilities that could pose a risk to themselves or others are being offered voluntary residency in specialized facilities where they can receive appropriate support and training."

  "Voluntary?" the congressman pressed. "We've received reports of individuals being detained against their will."

  "In cases where an enhanced individual has demonstrated destructive or dangerous behavior, temporary protective custody may be necessary," she replied smoothly. "But our goal is always rehabilitation and integration when possible."

  The camera cut briefly to the audience, where a group of people wore matching t-shirts reading "WHERE IS MY SON?" and "HUMAN RIGHTS FOR ALL HUMANS."

  "Jesus," Sarah muttered. "They're disappearing people."

  The hearing continued with questions about experimental treatments, containment procedures, and "risk assessment protocols." Each answer was carefully crafted to sound reasonable while revealing almost nothing of substance.

  Finally, a different congressman raised a new line of questioning: "We've heard reports of private citizens forming so-called 'Purifier' groups to identify and, quote, 'neutralize' enhanced individuals in their communities. What is the department doing to prevent these viginte actions?"

  The official's expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "We condemn any violence or discrimination against affected individuals. Local w enforcement has primary jurisdiction over such incidents, but we are providing guidance and support where needed."

  "That's it?" the congressman pressed. "Guidance and support while American citizens are being hunted in their own communities?"

  Before the official could respond, the feed cut to commercial.

  Sarah muted the TV, her expression disturbed. "They're not even trying to stop it."

  "They might not be able to," Ikenna said quietly. "From what I've seen in my visions, the country is fracturing. Different states, different cities—they're all handling this differently. Some are protecting enhanced people, others are rounding them up, and in some pces... the government has basically lost control."

  Sarah's phone chimed with a news alert. She gnced at it, then sat up straight, suddenly alert. "Ikenna, look at this."

  He moved to sit beside her, reading over her shoulder. The headline read: "ENHANCED INDIVIDUAL REGISTRY ANNOUNCED: MANDATORY COMPLIANCE REQUIRED WITHIN 30 DAYS."

  The article detailed new emergency measures being implemented by executive order, requiring all individuals exhibiting "anomalous abilities or physiological changes" following the golden rain to register with local authorities by the end of the month. Registration would include medical examination, ability assessment, and "appropriate pcement" based on the individual's "risk profile."

  "Appropriate pcement," Sarah echoed hollowly. "That sounds ominous."

  "It's starting," Ikenna said, a chill running through him as fragments of his visions aligned with reality. "They're creating a database of everyone with abilities."

  "To 'help' us or to control us?" Sarah asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

  "Maybe both," Ikenna replied. "Some probably genuinely want to help people understand their abilities, prevent accidents like the one in Denver. But others..."

  "Want weapons," Sarah finished grimly. "Human weapons they can point at the Exigenes. Or at their enemies."

  Ikenna nodded, remembering fshes from his visions—boratories, tests, people with identical vacant expressions. "We need to keep moving. First thing tomorrow. The longer we stay in one pce, the greater the risk of being detected."

  Sarah agreed, setting an arm on her phone for dawn. As they prepared for bed, turning off all but one small mp, Ikenna felt the now-familiar pressure building behind his eyes. Rather than fighting it, he sat on the edge of his bed and closed his eyes, attempting to channel the incoming vision the way they'd been practicing.

  This time, the transition was smoother, less jarring. The vision unfolded like a film pying in his mind:

  A makeshift boratory in what appeared to be a converted warehouse. Scientists in mismatched protective gear worked with obviously limited resources, studying samples under microscopes, analyzing data on screens showing constantly shifting patterns of energy.

  "The problem isn't just measuring Strataforce," a haggard-looking woman expined to a man in a rumpled military uniform. "It's that it behaves differently depending on the host. The same exposure that gives one person telekinesis might give another enhanced senses or nothing at all."

  "But you're making progress on the inhibitor?" the officer pressed.

  The scientist gestured to a workbench where a crude device sat partially assembled—a colr with exposed circuitry and diagnostic equipment attached.

  "Version three is more stable than the previous prototypes, but still unreliable. It works for minor abilities—telekinesis under five pounds of force, thermal variance of less than twenty degrees—but anything stronger overwhelms the dampening field."

  "What about the side effects?"

  The scientist's hesitation was answer enough. "We've reduced the neurological impact, but prolonged use still causes headaches, nosebleeds, and in two cases, small seizures. We need more time."

  "Time is a luxury we don't have," the officer replied grimly. "The Exigene threats are multiplying faster than we can contain them. That pig-thing in the southeast has grown again—it's nearly thirty meters tall now, and conventional weapons barely scratch it. We need enhanced soldiers to fight enhanced threats, which means we need a way to ensure they fight for us, not against us."

  The scene shifted to a rural roadside. A family huddled in their car, the parents in the front seat trying to appear calm while their teenage daughter curled in the back, face hidden beneath a hood. They approached a checkpoint where state troopers were stopping each vehicle, checking IDs and scanning passengers with handheld devices.

  "Remember," the father whispered. "Keep your head down, don't make eye contact. If they use the scanner, just stay calm. They can only detect active abilities, not potential."

  The girl nodded, trembling. "But what if it happens again? What if I can't control it?"

  "It won't," her mother insisted, though fear edged her voice. "Just keep breathing like we practiced."

  As they approached the checkpoint, a commotion erupted at the front of the line. A man was being dragged from his car, protesting his innocence as officers shouted about a "positive reading." The scanner in one trooper's hand was fshing red. The man's struggles grew more desperate, and suddenly the ground beneath him cracked, a small fissure opening between his feet.

  "ENHANCED!" a trooper shouted. "RESTRAIN HIM!"

  The family's car peeled away, tires screeching as the father abandoned the checkpoint, using the distraction to escape. Gunshots rang out behind them, but they didn't slow down.

  The scene changed again. A vast field where the earth had been torn open, revealing a network of massive, root-like structures pulsing with amber light. Scientists in hazmat suits collected samples while armed guards maintained a perimeter. The roots continued to grow visibly, extending several inches even as the team watched.

  "It's all connected," one scientist said, voice muffled by her mask. "The pnts, the animals, the human enhancements—all expressions of the same energy, just manifesting differently based on the host organism."

  "But what is it?" her colleague asked. "Where did it come from?"

  "That's the billion-dolr question," she replied. "But I'm becoming convinced it's not random. There's a pattern to these changes, an intelligence behind them. It's like the rain was... terraforming us. Reshaping us for something."

  One final shift brought Ikenna to Meridian's Crossing. This time, he saw more details—the town appeared rgely abandoned, most buildings empty, streets quiet. But in what had once been a small library, lights glowed softly. Inside, the Asian woman from his previous visions sat with the ancient book open before her. The tall man paced nearby, his skin occasionally rippling with geometric patterns that seemed to represent abstract concepts—safety, protection, vigince.

  "The government is mobilizing faster than we expected," the woman said, her finger tracing symbols on the page that emitted faint golden light. "The Namer's Path should have given us more time."

  "Time is no longer our ally," the man replied, his voice resonant with an almost musical quality. "The Seer will arrive soon, but the journey grows more perilous. The divisions are deepening—human against Enhanced, Enhanced against Exigene, government against citizen. Chaos feeds upon itself."

  "And the Titan grows stronger," the woman added grimly. "Its power levels are beyond anything we anticipated at this stage."

  "Because it's not just consuming Strataforce," the man said. "It's consuming fear. Chaos. Desperation." He stopped pacing, looking directly at where Ikenna's perspective floated, unseen. "Can you feel it, Seer? The world breaking apart at its seams? The old order crumbling? Find us quickly. The window narrows with each passing day."