Zoey sat across the cluttered mahogany desk, her arms crossed and her foot tapping against the polished floor. The so-called commander, Iyana Portfield, leaned back in her chair, twirling a cigarette between her fingers, her sharp orange eyes watching Zoey with measured indifference.

  Holiday stood silently beside Iyana, her veiled face giving nothing away. The tension in the room pressed down like an invisible force, propelling the silence to a breaking point.

  Zoey’s glare shifted to Holiday, her annoyance radiating through her afterimages, which shimmered faintly around her like a restless energy. “You’ve got a lot to explain,” She didn’t care if Holiday couldn’t understand her—it felt good to say it anyway.

  Iyana exhaled a slow stream of smoke, her cigarette glowing faintly in the dim light. She didn’t speak, just waited, letting the silence stretch. Zoey didn’t flinch, though—if this was a power move, she wasn’t about to fall for it.

  “So you won’t apologize for getting rough with my Seer?” Iyana said, her voice sharp, laced with a calm authority that made it clear she wasn’t asking.

  Zoey scoffed, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. This woman is possessive as hell, she thought. Everything was “mine, mine, mine.” It was annoying.

  She opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself, narrowing her eyes instead.

  Iyana smirked, tilting her head slightly. “Oh no, go on,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “I can get the general grasp of it.”

  Zoey smirked back, a spark of defiance lighting her eyes. If this woman wanted to play games, fine. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the stupid notepad Crucible had handed her earlier. Gotta remember to thank him for this dumb thing, she thought sarcastically. Why no one had given her an actual device, like a tablet or phone, was beyond her. But beggars can’t be choosers, she reminded herself bitterly, even though she hated that expression.

  With quick, deliberate strokes, she wrote: I want this bitch to know exactly what I say.

  She finished with a flourish and held the note up, pointing directly at Holiday as she did.

  Iyana’s smirk immediately turned into a scowl. The air around her seemed to grow heavier as she leaned forward, her dark orange eyes locking onto Zoey’s. “That behavior,” she said coldly, “won’t be tolerated. I don’t do second chances.”

  Zoey could tell she meant every syllable.

  Yet she didn’t flinch, but her jaw tightened slightly. She knew this type. She’d dealt with people like Iyana her whole life. Principals, her parents, teachers, police—they all had that same look. The I’m in charge and you’re a problem look. And now, staring across the desk at Iyana and her precious Seer, Zoey felt like she was right back in some office at school, getting lectured for “disruptive behavior” or “attitude problems.”

  But this time, she wasn’t some powerless kid. She wasn’t going to sit there and just take it. Zoey smirked, her afterimages shimmering faintly around her.

  “I’m going to allow Holiday to finish her analysis before you rudely interrupted her,” Iyana said, her voice sharp as steel.

  Zoey scoffed, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. The whole thing felt like a waste of time, but whatever.

  Iyana motioned for Holiday to speak. The Seer stepped forward, her presence calm but noticeably different. She began, her voice steady. “Zoey is naturally gifted but lacks structure. And after our conversation, it’s clear she wasn’t aware of the rules of Manifestion beforehand. It would seem her body is simply settling, giving off the impression she knows techniques.”

  It was subtle but undeniable—Holiday wasn’t speaking the same way she had earlier. Gone was the playful tone from before; now, her words were measured, almost clinical.

  Zoey narrowed her eyes. She’s speaking differently because she’s operating differently, Zoey thought, the realization snapping into place like a puzzle piece. Another helpful perk from whatever was going on in her brain lately. Also her story was false. They didn’t have a conversation, she simply told her the rules and had her touch the damn orb. Yet her aura gave away no indication that she was lying or rather Zoey could feel she wasn’t.

  “As for her Core Attribute,” Holiday continued, “it would seem she hasn’t manifested one yet. That explains the instability in her aura. It’s not rooted in any specific attribute, which is why it fluctuates so much. Evidence for that is that she doesn’t have a trait.”

  Zoey tilted her head slightly, trait?

  Iyana’s sharp orange eyes flicked to Holiday. “And the after-images?”

  “Her afterimages aren’t harmful and seem to be a result of her interaction with the rift. Since it was an anomaly even by rift standards, we should expect some unexpected side effects. However, they should settle out as her power stabilizes over time. She’s also shown good mental and physical health, therefore fit to be placed in V-35 and start her actual course,” Holiday concluded, stepping back slightly.”

  Iyana nodded, “Is that all?”

  Holiday paused, her veiled face turning slightly, as if searching for the answer herself. “Yes, that’s all… I remember.”

  Zoey’s eyebrows shot up. Remember? That was an odd choice of words.

  Iyana’s expression shifted, her gaze narrowing. “Remember?” she repeated, her tone laced with suspicion.

  Holiday froze for a moment, her aura flickering faintly. “I’m… not sure why I said it like that,” she admitted, her voice softer now.

  Zoey couldn’t resist. She grabbed her notepad, quickly scribbling down a message and holding it up for Iyana to see: See? She’s a weirdo.

  Iyana’s glare snapped to Zoey. Zoey met the glare with a smirk, her afterimages swirling faintly around her in playful defiance.

  “Don’t test me.”

  Zoey shrugged, holding the notepad loosely in her hand. Too late for that, she thought, not bothering to hide the smug look on her face.

  Iyana’s glare lingered as she motioned for Holiday to leave. The Seer gave a slight nod and exited without a word. Zoey’s eyes followed her all the way out, her glare unwavering until the door clicked shut.

  Now it was just her and Iyana.

  She knew trying to explain what happened would be pointless. If they were watching and didn’t see it. It just meant she would have to “talk” to Holiday alone.

  The commander leaned back slightly in her chair, scanning Zoey up and down, analyzing every detail. Zoey yawned dramatically, leaning back in her own seat as if completely unbothered.

  “So, what now?” Zoey asked.

  Iyana’s expression didn’t change, her face remaining unreadable. “Has Red Gale ever told you about all this?”

  Zoey frowned. “Who’s Red Gale?”

  Iyana tilted her head slightly, her wolfish silver hair bouncing with the motion. “Not going to use the notepad?”

  You can understand me just fine, right?” Zoey said, grinning faintly.

  Iyana narrowed her eyes, a flicker of annoyance slipping through. “Red Gale is Savannah Clyark,” Iyana continued. “A good—”

  “Savvy told me nothin,” Zoey snapped, cutting her off. Her aura flared faintly, shimmering with irritated. “And I swear to God, if you—”

  “Are you threatening me, child?” Iyana interrupted, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

  Zoey leaned forward, her expression sharp. “Are you going to do something to Savvy, older woman?”

  Iyana’s lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t warm. “I was just covering all bases,” she said smoothly, leaning back further in her chair. “It’s not every day we get someone like you. And it’s suspicious that you have this much aptitude for Manifestion. Regardless of what Holiday says.”

  Zoey smirked, her defiance returning. “Besides seeing auras, what else am I doing that’s so impressive? I can’t ya know, control the after images. Not sure what else you could mean Boss Lady.” she asked, her tone feigning innocence.

  Iyana’s sharp orange eyes flicked to Zoey’s modified outfit. “You being able to do that without a Core Attribute should be impossible,” she said, her voice calm but pointed. “And yet, here it is.”

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  Zoey chuckled, leaning back in her chair as her afterimages trailed faintly behind her. “So it’s clearly possible,” she said with a grin.

  Iyana didn’t respond immediately, but her sharp gaze held Zoey’s for a long moment, the silence between them crackling with tension. Finally, she smiled faintly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re going to be interesting, I’ll give you that.”

  Zoey’s grin widened, “You have no idea.”

  “Oh, but I do,” Iyana said smoothly. She pulled a perfect smoke ring from her mouth and pushed another one through it with precision. Leaning back, she let her black commander jacket drape over the sides of the chair.

  Zoey’s eyes narrowed as she observed her. Everything about Iyana screamed independence—her relaxed demeanor, her sharp gaze, even her unorthodox style—but here she was, playing the role of a commander. The contradiction gnawed at Zoey, making her wonder how someone so free could settle into a role like this.

  “I know you’re flying in your room,” Iyana said suddenly, her words cutting through Zoey’s thoughts.

  Zoey’s mouth opened to argue, but Iyana held up a hand to silence her. “If you thought there weren’t cameras in your room, you’re a fool,” she added flatly, her sharp orange eyes locking onto Zoey’s.

  Zoey clenched her jaw, so tempted to flip her off right then and there, but she bit back the impulse. She wasn’t stupid enough to push that far yet.

  “So,” Iyana continued, leaning forward slightly, “let’s cut the bullshit and play our cards straight, shall we, Miss Bail?”

  Zoey rolled her eyes. “Just call me Zoey.”

  “Hmm,” Iyana mused, tilting her head slightly, her eyes glinting with faint amusement.

  “You heard me,” Zoey said, her voice fast and sharp.

  Iyana leaned in further, her tone dropping to something colder. “I don’t hear you. You hear me. If I ask you to repeat, you repeat.”

  Zoey glared at her, biting back a retort as Iyana leaned back in her chair again.

  “Going forward,” Iyana said, her voice calm but commanding, “you will wear the appropriate uniform. This,” she gestured to Zoey’s altered outfit, “is unacceptable. Don’t let this power go to your head and think you’re special. You will be treated like everyone else until you give us a real reason not to be.”

  Zoey felt the weight of those last words, the pressure settling like a stone in her chest.

  “You will be given a schedule, and you will follow it to a T. The structure should help you manifest your ability over time,” Iyana continued. “You will also refrain from behavior like what I saw with Holiday. That goes for any other rookies or operatives above your rank. If you have a problem with someone, we have designated areas to settle that.”

  Zoey threw her hands up in frustration, her afterimages flaring brightly as they mimicked the motion. “Why the hell am I being so restricted? Like, damn!”

  Iyana’s glare deepened, though there was a flicker of amusement in her dark orange eyes. “Because you’re stronger than most at awakening,” she said bluntly. “You’ve already shown signs of high-level aura manipulation and even reality distortion techniques. If you like we could throw you in a cell or ship you off to Southern Command.”

  Zoey’s jaw tightened at that, her frustration simmering just below the surface. Watching Iyana lean back in her chair, taking another slow drag from her cigarette.

  “I’ve also read your file. Though you may not be connected to our world, you’ve certainly made an impression in yours. Stealing, disturbing the peace, suspensions, running away, fighting in school…” She paused, her voice dripping with disdain. “Grand theft auto.”

  Zoey blinked, her expression unreadable, though her mind immediately drifted to that night with Leo. She’d covered for him to keep his scholarship intact. Sure, she’d been the one to pick the car they stole, but still—it wasn’t like she was the bad guy.

  “That type of behavior,” Iyana continued, her tone cutting through Zoey’s thoughts, “won’t cut it here or in the field. People’s lives will be at stake, and the room for error doesn’t exist.”

  “Then why keep me? Sounds like I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

  “Surprisingly,” Iyana's voice softened just slightly, “there are people who believe in you here. Also, Red Gale put her life on the line for you—I doubt you want to undermine that effort.”

  Zoey stare faltered for a moment, the words landing harder than she expected.

  “Now then,” Iyana said, her tone sharp and matter-of-fact. “Now that we’ve properly met, I expect things to go smoothly from here on out.” She leaned forward slightly, her dark orange eyes narrowing. “Any questions?”

  Zoey tilted her head, her afterimages shimmering faintly behind her in a soft glow. “Yeah,” she said, her tone flat but curious. “How can you be so strict but look so… carefree…talk about a misleading vibe.”

  Iyana paused, her lips curling into a grin as she leaned back in her chair. She twirled her cigarette, her wolfish hair catching the faint light in the room. “I worked hard,” she said with a casual shrug, “moved up the ranks, seized power, and got to the position I wanted. Now, I do things on my terms. Steering my own course.”

  Zoey stared at her for a moment, her expression neutral before her lips quirked into a small smirk. “Gotcha, Boss Lady. That’s it for me.”

  Iyana’s grin widened slightly as she exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “Good. Then let’s hope you’re as good as some people seem to think you are.”

  Back out in the short hallway, Zoey spotted Crucible leaning casually against the wall, waiting for her. He glanced up as she approached, a smirk already tugging at his lips.

  “Coward,” she shot out quickly, her words too fast for him to catch.

  “What?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

  Zoey rolled her eyes, grabbing her notepad and scribbling furiously. She shoved it into his face, the word Coward scrawled across the paper in bold letters.

  Crucible laughed, the sound deep and unbothered. “I wasn’t bailing on you,” he said, shaking his head. He chuckled again.

  Zoey crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. Corny, she thought, watching him try to play off her name.

  “It’s just how the process goes,” he explained. “Seer’s pull you into their barriers to help uncover your Core Attribute.

  Zoey nodded slowly, her mind already piecing things together. So, a Seer’s core ability is probably Selfish Encasement, she thought. Mixed with some form of Posses attribute as well.

  A smirk tugged at her lips. So it really was all for show, she mused, feeling vindicated in her earlier skepticism.

  Crucible tilted his head slightly, watching her as if trying to decipher her thoughts. “What’s your trait?” he asked, breaking her concentration.

  Zoey blinked, staring at him like he’d just asked her the square root of the moon. “Huh?”

  “Your trait,” he repeated. “What is it?”

  Zoey frowned, her confusion clear. What the hell is he talking about now? Her mind drifted to what Holiday said. She mentioned a trait showing up at some point. But she hadn’t dwelled on it.

  Did you not learn your C.A.?” Crucible asked.

  Zoey chuckled to herself. He thinks he’s so cool, she thought, shaking her head slightly. She grabbed her notepad and scribbled down her response: Like everything else, I’m too special for something like that, I guess.

  She handed it to him with a smug grin, waiting for his reaction. He read it, nodded, and handed the pad back, his expression neutral.

  Zoey frowned, disappointed. She’d been hoping for a more shocked, wide-eyed OMG moment, but no—he was one of those go with the flow types. The kind of guy who’d stay completely calm while his wife yelled at him, just sitting on the couch, staring blankly at her rage. Only answering with huh’s and what’s.

  “Tsk,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  She shook her head, her afterimages rippling around her like a small, personal rave. Instead of answering, she tugged on his coat absentmindedly, the motion echoed by her shimmering afterimages.

  “What?” he repeated.

  She tugged again.

  Crucible narrowed his eyes slightly, watching her with mild curiosity. “Use your wor—… Never mind.” After a moment he asked. “You wanna know what traits are?”

  Zoey nodded, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for his explanation.

  He smirked. “Coulda just wrote that instead of being weird,” he teased. He thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to explain it. “Hmm, it’s something that literally becomes part of your personality after you get your Core Attribute. It’s not an enhancer or anything—it’s just… you now... it’s weird. Sometimes it matches your powers, like White Bullseye dressing like a cowboy.”

  Zoey smirked faintly, thinking back to White Bullseye. Yeah, the whole cowboy thing was really on the nose. From the way she speaks, to her freakin cosplay outfit. Even if she could shoot the wings off a fly, it was a bit much.

  “But then,” Crucible continued, “there’s the left-field ones, like Iyana.”

  Zoey raised an eyebrow. Iyana? She thought about the commander, her dark orange eyes and her wolfish hair, the way she carried herself. Cigarettes, the jacket draped over her shoulders, the swagger, even the little trinkets on her desk—it didn’t seem to have anything to do with running a military base, more like a captain of a ship.

  “Your trait doesn’t always make sense right away,” Crucible added, shrugging slightly. “But it’s still you, even if it’s random.”

  Zoey’s eyes narrowed as she tried to picture herself with some weird, forced personality quirk. Would she even notice if it happened? And what would hers even be?

  “You get it?” Crucible asked, tilting his head.

  Zoey chuckled, grabbing her notepad again. She scribbled down another question and held it up for him to see: Is that why you’re dressed like a gacha main character?

  Crucible’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, his expression blank as he stared at her.

  Her laughter burst out fast and sharp, almost like a rapid-fire melody. Her afterimages shimmered brightly, mimicking the motion of her shoulders shaking, making it look like a neon echo of her amusement. The laugh wasn’t loud, but the speed at which it came out made it feel like a quick jab to his pride.

  Crucible sighed, crossing his arms as he waited for her to finish. “You done?” he asked, his tone flat.

  Zoey flipped the pad over and scribbled quickly, holding it up with a grin: Someone wants to be a big, strong hero.

  She chuckled again, the sound coming out fast and sharp, almost like a hiccup of laughter. This was the most fun she’d had all day. And it helped—distracting herself from the weird vibe she’d gotten from Holiday during her evaluation.

  Crucible read the note and rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a hero,” he said, uncrossing his arms. “And I told you—it’s random. Besides,” he added with a faint smirk, “I look good in this.”

  Zoey smirked back, holding up her hand to make a so-so motion, her afterimages mimicking the gesture.

  “Screw you,” he said, narrowing his golden eyes at her.

  She burst out laughing again, though she quickly stopped and grimaced. Ugh, she thought. I’m not a fan of this laugh.

  “Well let’s go.”

  She looked at him and tilted her head. He grinned, flexing his jacket.

  “Time to meet your unit.”