For a long moment, no one moved.Then Pisc inclined his head—a gesture that meant more than a speech.
Hannah’s heart squeezed.
She’d fallen in love with a man the world wasn’t sure it wanted.And here he was, promising the same hope to those even more feared than him.
She felt herself falling all over again.
By late afternoon, the Initiative hummed with a lighter energy, stretched thin with hope instead of fear.Hannah followed Vera through one of the newly repurposed wings, stopping at a set of double doors decorated with holographic lightning bolts and painted stars.
“Ready?”Vera asked, pushing them open.
The sound hit Hannah first: laughter.There were dozens of children inside.Some were running, some practicing controlled bursts of power over padded mats, and some were playing concentration games with floating blocks.Monitors watched attentively, but the atmosphere wasn’t tense.It was safe, structured, but most of all, joyful.
A little boy with glowing fingertips squealed as he made a ball of light hover above his hands.Another child teleported a whole twelve inches and grinned as if she’d conquered the world.
Near the back of the room, a dark-haired toddler sat in a small play area, surrounded by floating blocks that orbited her head like tiny satellites.She laughed and clapped her hands, and the blocks scattered before reforming into a wobbly tower.
"That's Nicole Storm," Vera said softly, following Hannah's gaze."Nick and Sarah's daughter.First natural-born Castor-Pollux child.She's not even three yet and already showing abilities from both strains."
Hannah watched the little girl knock over her tower and immediately rebuild it with a wave of her chubby fingers."She's why this matters," Hannah murmured.
"She's why all of it matters," Vera agreed."The prophecy said she'd be pivotal.We're still figuring out what that means."
Hannah’s throat tightened unexpectedly.
“This is...”She had to pause.“This is incredible, Vera.”
She nodded, pride glowing around her like an aura.“They’re scared,” she admitted.“But they’re learning they don’t have to be.And not one of them is alone.”
A girl with crackling hair shyly approached Hannah.“Miss Charge?”she said.“Are you really the one who made the words in the sky?”
Hannah crouched so they were eye-level.“I helped,” she said gently.“My partner did most of the heavy lifting.”
The girl nodded solemnly before skipping back to her friends.Hannah watched her go, heart full to bursting.She wasn’t looking at a weapon or a threat.She was looking at a child who would one day grow up without the fear that had shadowed Hannah’s entire life.
Gray appeared in the doorway behind her, leaning quietly against the frame, watching her with that tender, unguarded look he seemed to reserve only for her.
“Ready for the next event?”he asked.
She laughed a little.“Do we ever stop moving?”
“When we’re dead,” he said dryly, then softened.“Or when we want to.”
His hand found the small of her back.They left the school together, the children's laughter echoing behind them.
The charity gala that night was everything Hannah usually hated: flashing lights, cameras everywhere, a relentless stream of attention.But walking arm in arm with Gray—his hand warm and firm against her lower back—she felt strangely steady.
He looked devastating in a dark suit tailored to his shoulders and attitude.She wore a gown threaded with iridescent silver strands that shimmered like live electricity when she moved.When Gray saw her in it earlier, he’d gone silent for a full ten seconds before managing, “Hannah...Christ.”
The red carpet wasn’t hostile tonight.Curious, yes.Overwhelmed.But the energy vibrated with hope.
Cameras snapped as they stepped forward.
“Gray!Hannah!Over here!”
“Is it true the Initiative may join a national agency?”
“Do you feel safe now?”
