“What’s all this?” Lucy asked.
“Sightings,” Barnaby replied, tapping the map. “Accounts of strange births, miraculous survivals, inexplicable powers. Most people dismiss them as hoaxes, but when you put them all together… patterns appear.” He leaned closer to the map, his finger tracing across Europe. “Clusters in the Middle East, Northern Africa, and here” he points indirectly at the map. “But all too spread out to be coincidence.”
Lucy’s brows knitted. “You think there are more supernatural beings?”
“I don’t think, I know.” He whirled around, eyes alight with a manic sort of excitement. “The question you should be asking is, who else is out there and where have, they been hiding all these years!”
His voice rose with each word until Corey appeared in the doorway. “Barnaby, breathe. She is still trying to grasp all of this; we all cannot take in as much information as you can.”
Lucy offered him a small smile. “It’s fine. Honestly… it is comforting. At least someone is making sense of all this.” Lucy turned back to the map.So, I am not the only one…The thought was equal parts hope and dread.
Later that day, Byron led Lucy into the training room. Sam was already there, standing in the centre of the mat with two of her throwing blades twirling casually in her hands. She gave Lucy a slow, assessing smile.
“Ready to get knocked on your ass?” Sam asked.
Lucy smirked. “We’ll see.”
The session began light. Sam moved fast, her strikes controlled but sharp, testing Lucy’s reflexes. Lucy blocked, ducked, returned a few clumsy blows. Her speed was undeniable, but her technique still lacked polish. Sam’s style was clean, lethal, and efficient.
Strike after strike pushed Lucy back. Her arms ached, sweat stung her eyes. Sam was not cruel, but she was relentless, and Lucy’s frustration grew.
“You’re rushing,” Sam snapped as she spun her blade in a tight arc that stopped an inch from Lucy’s throat. “You’ve got the power, but you’re not thinking.”
Frustrated, Lucy clenched her fist. Her heartbeat grew louder, her knees wobbled. The training room blurred.
And then...
She was gone.
Back in the void.
It wasn’t silent this time. A low hum thrummed through the air, vibrating in her bones. She turned, and there it was, the golden orb, hovering just as before. But this time it wasn’t alone.
A second orb shimmered nearby, smaller but brighter, silver light rippling across its surface like liquid metal.
Lucy gasped. “What are you?” she whispered.
The silver orb shot forward before she could move. It slammed into her chest, and her entire body jolted as if struck by lightning.
Her eyes flew open.
The training room reappeared. Byron and Sam gathered at the edge of the mat, watching Lucy intently.
Lucy’s hands burned, and in a crack of energy, two curved daggers materialized in her grip. They gleamed silver, edges glowing faintly as if alive.
Sam stepped closer, “Lucy… what did you just do?”
Lucy looked down at the weapons. They were light in her hands yet carried a weight she could not explain. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “They just… appeared.”
Barnaby was silently watching from the doorway, he clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes huge. “Holy shit. Holyactualshit.” He stumbled forward, circling her like she was a museum artifact come to life. “You just forged a weapon from yourself.”
“Try to put them away.” Byron asked inquisitively.
Lucy hesitated, then focused. The daggers shimmered before melting into nothing, fading back into her palms.
Barnaby practically exploded. “Okay, nope, we are not letting that slide like it’s nothing. Do it again. No, wait!” He darted to his bag which he left at the side, grabbed a recorder, and started fumbling with the buttons. “This is groundbreaking. Do you realize how many myths describe warriors of light shaping weapons from thin air? This is way too cool to miss.”
Sam crossed her arms, though her eyes never left Lucy’s hands. “Show us again.”
