Sanctuary air hung thick with the hum of purpose—keyboards clacking, voices murmuring, the occasional clank of metal from someone cleaning a weapon. Lila sat on the edge of a narrow bunk in a small room off the main chamber, her bandaged arm stiff and her mind restless. The protein bar Ethan had given her sat half-eaten on the folding table beside her, its taste like cardboard against the weight of everything she'd learned. Shadowborn. Council enforcers. A resistance she hadn't asked to join. The shadows in the room were still, but she felt them watching, waiting for her to slip.
A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts. The pink-haired woman from earlier—Maya, Ethan had called her—stood in the doorway, holding a tablet and a mug of something steaming. Her grin was bright, almost too bright for the dim, utilitarian space. "You look like you could use this," she said, offering the mug. "It's tea. Not fancy, but it's hot."
Lila took it, the warmth seeping into her hands. "Thanks," she said, her voice rough from exhaustion. She studied Maya—human, Ethan had said, but sharp-eyed and confident in a way that felt like she belonged here more than Lila ever could. "You're not… like them, are you? Supernatural, I mean."
"Nope," Maya said, plopping onto the bunk across from her, the tablet balanced on her knee. "Just a nerd with a knack for breaking into systems that don't want to be broken. I help keep this place running—hacking, surveillance, the works. Ethan's the muscle, I'm the brains." Her tone was light, but there was a steel beneath it, a quiet pride.
Lila's lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through her guard. "And what am I? The liability?"
Maya laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. "For now, maybe. But Ethan's got a good eye for people. If he brought you here, you're worth it. Shadowborn, right? That's some serious juice."
The word made Lila's stomach twist. She set the mug down, her fingers tightening around it. "I don't even know what that means. Not really. Ethan said my powers are… alive. But I've spent years trying to keep them locked away. Now they're slipping, and I can't—" She stopped, her throat tight. She didn't know why she was telling Maya this, a stranger, but the words spilled out, heavy with years of hiding.
Maya's grin softened, her eyes sharp but kind. "Hey, I get it. This world's a lot, especially when you're thrown in headfirst. But you're not alone here. We've all got our baggage—Ethan, me, the others. The sanctuary's for people who don't fit anywhere else. You'll figure it out."
Lila wanted to believe her, but the memory of the alley—her shadows spiraling, nearly consuming her—made doubt claw at her chest. She glanced at the shadows on the wall, their edges soft but restless. "What if I can't control it? What if I hurt someone?"
Maya leaned forward, her voice steady. "Then we teach you. Ethan's not just a hunter—he's trained people like you before. He's got this whole 'gruff mentor' thing down. Annoying, but effective. And I'll help too. I've got tech that can monitor your powers, give us data to work with. We're a team, Lila. You don't have to do this alone."
The word team felt foreign, like a language Lila had forgotten. She'd been alone for so long, guarding her secrets, that the idea of allies—of trust—felt like stepping onto thin ice. But Maya's sincerity, her easy confidence, chipped away at the walls Lila had built. "Okay," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. "Where do we start?"
Maya's grin returned, brighter this time. "That's the spirit. Come on, let's get you to the training room. Ethan's probably pacing like a caged wolf by now."
The training room was a converted storage area, its concrete walls reinforced with steel plates and etched with faint runes that glowed faintly under the overhead lights. Mats covered the floor, and one wall held an array of weapons—blades, staffs, and stranger things Lila couldn't name. Ethan stood in the center, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable as Maya led Lila inside.
"About time," he said, his tone gruff but not unkind. He nodded at Maya. "You briefing her?"
"Already started," Maya said, tapping her tablet. "I'll set up the sensors, get a baseline on her powers. You do the hard stuff."
Ethan snorted, then turned to Lila. "This isn't a game, so don't treat it like one. Your powers are waking up, and if you don't learn to control them, they'll control you. We start small—focus, precision, intent. No fancy tricks until you've got the basics."
Lila's jaw tightened. She didn't like being talked to like a rookie, but the memory of the alley—her shadows lashing out, chaotic and dangerous—kept her quiet. "Fine," she said, stepping onto the mat. "What do I do?"
Ethan gestured to the center of the room. "Stand there. Close your eyes. Feel the shadows around you, but don't touch them. Just listen."
She hesitated, then obeyed, closing her eyes. The room's sounds faded—the hum of Maya's tablet, the distant murmur of the sanctuary—until all she felt was the cool air and the weight of her own breathing. The shadows were there, always there, a presence at the edge of her mind. They whispered, soft and insistent, urging her to shape them, to let them move. Her fingers twitched, instinct begging to act, but she held back, focusing on Ethan's voice.
"Good," he said, closer now. "You're feeling them, not fighting them. That's step one. Now, picture a shape—something simple. A sphere, a cube, whatever. Don't make it happen. Just hold the image in your mind."
Lila pictured a sphere, small and smooth, floating in darkness. The shadows stirred, eager, but she kept them at bay, her brow furrowing with effort. Sweat beaded on her forehead. It was harder than she'd expected, like holding a leash on a straining dog. The shadows wanted to move, to create, to live.
"Easy," Ethan said, his voice steady. "You're pushing too hard. Let it flow, don't force it."
She tried, loosening her grip on the image, letting it sit in her mind like a stone in a stream. The shadows calmed, their whispers softening. For a moment, she felt it—a connection, not control but partnership. Then her focus slipped, the memory of the assassins' glinting eyes flashing through her mind, and the shadows surged. Her eyes snapped open as a jagged shape formed on the wall—a claw, sharp and trembling—before collapsing into nothing.
"D*mn it," she muttered, her hands shaking. Frustration burned in her chest, mixed with fear. She'd almost lost it again.
Ethan didn't flinch. "You're not gonna get it on the first try. That was better than most do starting out. You felt them, didn't you? The way they listen?"
She nodded, her throat tight. "They're… too much. Like they're waiting for me to mess up."
"They're part of you," Ethan said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Not a tool, not a weapon—a piece of who you are. The council trained you to fear them, but that's their game. Fear makes you weak, makes you easier to control. You've gotta trust yourself, Lila. That's the only way this works."
Trust herself. The words hit harder than she expected. She'd spent years hiding, hating what she was, terrified of the power she couldn't fully understand. Trust felt like a leap she wasn't ready for. But Ethan's eyes were steady, and Maya, tapping away at her tablet, gave her a quick thumbs-up, her grin a small anchor in the storm of doubt.
"Again," Lila said, squaring her shoulders. "Let's try again."
Ethan's lips twitched, almost a smile. "That's the spirit."
Hours later, Lila's body ached, her mind raw from the effort of wrangling her shadows. She'd managed a shaky sphere, a flickering cube, but each success came with a cost—headaches, trembling hands, the constant fear of losing control. Maya's sensors had recorded it all, her tablet spitting out graphs of energy spikes and shadow density that Lila barely understood. But Maya's excitement was infectious, her chatter about "power signatures" and "neural feedback" a reminder that this was science to her, not just magic.
As they wrapped up, Ethan handed Lila a bottle of water, his expression softer than before. "You did good today. It's a start. Get some rest—we've got more tomorrow."
Lila nodded, too tired to argue. Maya led her back to the bunk room, chattering about the sanctuary's security systems and the latest council chatter she'd intercepted. "They're nervous," Maya said, her voice low. "Your name's popping up in their encrypted channels. Whatever they want you for, it's big."
The words settled like a stone in Lila's chest. She thought of the envelope, the council's cold summons, the assassins in the alley. The sanctuary was a refuge, but it was also a cage, a place where she'd have to face what she'd spent years running from. Her shadows stirred, forming a fleeting shape on the wall—a girl, standing alone—before fading.
She lay on the bunk, the mug of tea cold on the table, and stared at the ceiling. Ethan's words echoed in her mind: Trust yourself. She didn't know if she could, but for the first time in years, she wanted to try. The sanctuary, with its outcasts and secrets, was her best shot at answers—and maybe, just maybe, a chance to be more than a shadow hiding in the dark.