The phone screamed.
Emma nearly swerved into the next lane as the emergency alert blared through her car's speakers, the distinctive three-tone pattern that every colonist recognized with dread.
"Emergency Alert System: Level 2 threat detected in Sectors 7 through 9. All citizens proceed to nearest Safehouse immediately. This is not a drill."
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. Not that there was ever a good time for a monster attack – but as she was on the way to work, this felt like a particularly bad time.
Emma glanced at the time displayed on her dashboard: 3:42 PM. She was already running late for her shift at Stellar, the upscale restaurant where she waited tables for the colony's elite. Her manager, Marcus, would be furious, but even he couldn't argue with a Level 2 alert.
Traffic ahead suddenly compressed like an accordion, cars jamming together as drivers panicked. Emma slammed on her brakes, her beat-up sedan shuddering to a halt inches from the bumper ahead. She could see people already abandoning their vehicles, running toward the concrete building a block away. Emma gathered that then must be the direction to the nearest Safehouse.
"No, no, no," she muttered, watching as the traffic congealed into an impassable metal barricade. Her car was now effectively useless. Around her, horns blared uselessly as more alert tones sounded from other vehicles.
Emma grabbed her bag, slung it across her body, and pushed her door open against the wind that had picked up suddenly. The sky above hadn't changed, it didn't always, but there was a heaviness to the air that made the hairs on her arms stand up.
Just stress, she told herself, ignoring the strange prickling sensation at the base of her skull that had been plaguing her for weeks now. Just another thing to ignore.
As she slammed her car door shut, a faint tremor ran through the ground. People were pouring out of buildings now, streaming toward the Safehouse. Emma joined the flow, her sensible work shoes slapping against the pavement.
A young mother struggled past, one child in her arms and another being dragged by the hand, both crying. Without thinking, Emma reached out.
"Let me help," she said, and the woman handed over the sobbing toddler without hesitation. The child, a boy with tear-streaked cheeks, wrapped his arms around Emma's neck instinctively.
As they hurried toward the Safehouse, Emma couldn't help but notice how naturally the mother had accepted her help, had entrusted her child to a stranger in a crisis. Some people just knew how to connect, how to reach out and trust. Some people carried the weight of others as if it were nothing.
Emma had always struggled with that. She could barely manage herself, let alone be responsible for anyone else.
It was why she'd failed Lily.
Don't think about Lily now.
The Safehouse loomed ahead, its reinforced doors already open as people streamed inside. Colony guards in their distinctive blue utility uniforms, directed the flow, scanning IDs as citizens entered. Emma adjusted the child in her arms, surprised by how heavy such a small person could be.
The prickling at the base of her skull intensified suddenly, making her stumble. A sharp pain lanced between her eyes.
It's nothing. Just stress. Just fear.
This mantra had become familiar over the past few weeks as these strange sensations had grown more frequent, more intense. She'd almost convinced herself they were psychosomatic, a manifestation of her anxiety over Lily's disappearance.
"Emma Wylde?" The guard at the door scanned her ID chip with a handheld device. Without realizing, she had raised her free hand and offered her phone for scanning. "Proceed to Level B."
Emma nodded, handing the toddler back to his mother, who had already been processed. The woman murmured thanks before disappearing into the crowd.
Inside, the Safehouse was utilitarian and stark, concrete walls painted institutional beige, emergency generator run lighting casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. Signs directed people to different levels based on capacity. Emma followed the flow toward the stairs leading down.
The sensation grew stronger as she descended. Not pain exactly, but a kind of awareness, like a compass needle swinging toward magnetic north. Emma rubbed her temples, trying to push it away.
Level B was already crowded, people sitting on benches or standing in small groups, their faces tense. The air smelled of sweat and fear. Emma found a spot against a wall and slid down to sit on the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest.
On the far wall, a large screen displayed a map of the colony with sectors 7 through 9 highlighted in red. Dots of blue indicated Safehouses. A scrolling message at the bottom repeated the emergency alert.
"They're saying it's just one," a man nearby said to his companion. "My buddy in Defense got the call right before the alert went out."
The Ministry of Defense—commonly known simply as "Defense" among colonists—served as the government branch responsible for all security operations on the colony. It oversaw both the Mage and Conduit Defense Forces, along with all other military personnel and protective infrastructure essential to the colony's survival.
The colony that Emma called home was a tremendous structure—a sprawling city built on a man-made concrete island, perched atop five colossal pillars rising from the ocean. When the tide came in, the entire city seemed as if it was floating, earning it the name Floating City.
Just off the coast stood PortTown, a modest extension of the colony on land, created solely to handle its bustling trade. Though PortTown was vital to Floating City's survival, there were no end it's their differences: where Floating City was opulent, gleaming, and rich, PortTown was drab, worn, and poor.
Still, Emma felt lucky to call PortTown home. She always thought the view of Floating City was more beautiful than actually being in it. Besides, she had an okay job, an okay life…with her sister…
That was, until her sister—
Don't think about Lily.
Emma put her thoughts back to the conversation she was overhearing. The two men continued about the news they heard from the Defense.
"Just one monster?" the other asked.
"Far as they know. Came through a micro-rift in Sector 8. They've got Mages and Conduits deployed already."
Emma's heart clenched at the mention of Conduits. Lily had been so proud when she'd awakened, so eager to serve in the Conduit forces. "I can make a difference," she'd told Emma. "I can protect people."
Now she was gone, listed as "Missing in action" after what Emma understood was a routine patrol six months ago.
A sharp buzz cut through the murmur of conversation, the sound of someone at the exterior door, requesting entry. The Safehouse attendant on Emma's floor, a middle-aged man in a the same blue utility uniform, moved to a small screen by the door.
Tap. Tap. Tap
Emma heard a quick three taps, turning around to see what it could be she quickly realized the sound didn't come from anything around her, rather she felt she heard it emitting from somewhere in her head.
Before she could rationalize the sound, Emma felt a stronger sensation, stronger than ever before, dark, oily presence, like ink spreading through water.
It was outside, prowling, searching.
Hungry.
The door buzzer sounded again, more insistent this time.
The attendant studied his screen, his face hardening. He stepped back from the console, deliberately turning away. Himself not able to watch what was about to happen.
Emma gasped, a jolt running through her body as the presence outside intensified. She could feel it—feel it pressing against the door, feel its awareness expanding, searching for prey.
The buzzer sounded a third time, frantically, continuously.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzzzzzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Then it stopped.
In the abrupt silence, Emma realized she had risen to her feet, her body rigid, her hands clenched into fists. Several people nearby were staring at her with alarm.
"Are you okay?" a woman asked, eyeing her warily.
Emma forced herself to breathe, to relax her posture. "Fine," she managed. "Just... scared."
The woman nodded sympathetically, but moved a few steps away.
Emma sank back to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself. The presence outside was gone now, moved on, but the memory of it lingered like a bad taste.
Emma slowly sank back down, the distant realization that something awful had just happened. That the stop of the buzzer meant whoever it was had succumbed to whatever that was. She looked around at the room, noting the scared and worried faces. Did they also know what had just happened? Surely everyone else also picked up on the context clues of the sudden stop of the buzzer.
I'm just freaked out, just like everyone else here. Emma thought to herself.
But deep down, in a place she refused to acknowledge, Emma knew that wasn't true. Something was happening to her, something she didn't want to face. Because if she did, if she admitted what these sensations meant, her life would change forever.
Just like Lily's had.
Emma closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, counting each inhale and exhale. One, two, three... The emergency lights flickered overhead, casting dancing shadows behind her eyelids. She wondered how long they would be kept here, if she'd be fired for missing her shift, how she would pay her rent if she lost this job.
Normal concerns. Safe concerns. Anything to avoid thinking about the presence she had felt, about the knowledge that hovered at the edges of her consciousness.
Anything to avoid acknowledging that, like her sister before her, Emma felt she was also-
No.
Not possible.
Not me.