In the middle of a blizzard, a virus, and a city-wide blackout, Ashley smiled. For once, Divina wasn't there to sabotage her plans or claw control away from her. Everything she had worked toward was finally unfolding exactly as she intended.

Snow melted beneath her shoes as she walked, steam curling faintly in her wake. She had still managed to trip twice.

Human bodies were fragile things—slow to heal, easy to break. She knew that better than anyone. She'd been hit by a car twice in four days, and both times, she hadn't even seen it coming.

It frustrated her, but none of that mattered now.

She had ruptured the power plant herself. She had weakened the foundations of the tallest building until concrete split like bone. The humans believed they could repair what she broke. They believed systems and science would save them.

They were wrong.

When they died, they would belong to her.

"Can't even do anything to help with that stupid vision of yours," Divina taunted.

Ashley clenched her fists, but Divina's voice lingered in her mind. It wasn't just a whisper anymore—it was an echo, sharp and mocking, poking at every thought.

"Keep talking," Ashley said with a thin smile. "You're still not stopping me."

"I might not have to," Divina said.

Ashley paused, her boots crunched in the snow as she stepped into an empty field. The world around her was a blur of white, the snowflakes sticking to her lashes and making her already stupid vision even worse.

"What are you talking about?" Ashley snapped.

Divina's tone turned sly. "Imagine this—someone gains those powers. You'd be left looking like a squashed tomato."

"Yes, but you need a body," Ashley taunted.

Divina's smirk cut through the storm. "You can be so stupid sometimes. Haven't I told you I could have someone break in?"

Ashley's jaw tightened. Fists clenched. "Not with this storm," she growled.

There was nothing that Divina could do now that she had control over everything once again. That four-month period may have knocked her out, but nobody would stop her now.

He laughed, the sound curling around her mind. "Ah, but there are two paths: developed or created."

"We weren't made the same way," Ashley spat.

"Someone develops my powers or creates them," he said.

"They can't be created, idiot."

The laugh tore through her mind, jarring and relentless.

The world warped. Twisted. Folded inward like collapsing lungs.

Darkness swallowed everything—then even the darkness disappeared. No shapes. No shadows. No light. Sound vanished next.

There was only the void.

Ashley lifted her hand. It felt heavy. Immovable. The void fought her, pressing back against the motion.

"If someone is created, they can stop that storm," Divina sneered.

Ashley blinked, and there he was—Divina's male illusion, standing in front of her. His black hair was spiked to one side of his head, with his glowing blue eyes piercing into hers. It was no longer that doodle that could torture her endlessly but some stupid illusion.

"You said you couldn't appear," Ashley growled.

Divina smirked, their expression smug. "To them," he snarled.

"You can't intervene, though."

Divina took a step towards her. "No, but I could talk to a human," he said mockingly. "I could tell them that they have to kill God. And, oh yeah—that we have to kill you."

Ashley shot out a hand, but nothing happened. No followers appeared. Why wasn't it working? She needed to get out—fast. Divina was unpredictable, and she wasn't about to be tortured again.

"I'll be gaining full control of those mutant powers soon," Ashley snarled.

The humans around her had their own powers—shooting burning lasers and hurling objects through the air with their minds. Soon, she would have that power soon.

When the time came, she'd use them to make Divina pay for everything it did.

"I put you in a coma, and then you went and started all this danger—getting hit by a car twice," he pointed out, laughing. "When this human shows up, whether they fall from the sky or rise from the ground, this storm will be gone."

Ashley's lips curled into a sneer. "They won't be able to stop me. No one can."

Divina's hand shot forward. The impact cracked through the void. Pain exploded across Ashley's face. Blood splattered her cheek, bright against the nothingness.

"Yes," he hissed. "They can weaken you. Don't forget, we were created by that pulsar. Two different reasons."

Ashley wiped the blood with the back of her hand. Rage coiled her chest, muscles tight as steel. "No," she spat, teeth clenched. "I was created by stupid humans."

That was her true creation. She wasn't something formed in the ditch some ugly girl happened to stumble on. She was the true thing—a god.

"You're some ugly purple goo you'd find in the trash," he taunted.

"You can't convince the dead to join you," Ashley said with a smirk.

Divina laughed cunningly at her. "Oh, please. I don't need people to do my dirty work because I can't see. I've grown, evolved—while you seeped through those ditches. We're both fallen stars from space. I'm the earth, and you're the sky. When that human arrives, they'll be in control. Even if they are stupid, I'm the earth. You just got the opportunity from some stupid human."

Divina twisted her nose so hard that it broke in a snap. Ashley let out a piercing scream, clutching her nose as tears welled in her eyes.

"Exactly, which means I'm ahead of you in power," Ashley said.

"Sure, you might have all that now, but those humans aren't stupid. You've been hit by a car twice in a span of four days," he leaned in closer, his tone mocking. "You can't control those little games on me."

Divina's grip tightened around Ashley's neck. His fingers dug into her skin as blood began to trickle down her neck. The need for oxygen was becoming unbearable, but she refused to back down.

Through gritted teeth, Ashley managed to speak. "I'm not stopping," she choked out.

"Are we back to god and goddess? I enjoyed being called Divina. Humans can call me Divina. You can stick with that stupid name, Ashley," he sneered.

Without warning, Divina punched Ashley in the face. The punch landed with a sharp crack, sending her stumbling backward.

Ashley fell onto her back, hitting the cold ground, and found herself being blinded by snow. She looked around and realized that she was no longer in Divina's atmosphere. She heard his laugh linger in her mind.

One of her followers helped her to her feet, trembling as they touched her. Ashley barely noticed. Her blood boiled hotter than the storm she unleashed.

Divina wasn't a person anymore. Not really. Just a voice. He was something forged from another collapsing star that had birthed her—two fragments of a cosmic corpse that had fallen to Earth.

They were shooting stars.

And no one could ever know.

If they knew fighting her might weaken the snow, that'd be her disadvantage. Fewer people would be dying, and more people would be pining for her death. Nobody could kill her until Divina made a grand entrance. No, it wasn't going to come, and she'd be kept in the clear with everything.

The house bit at Cindy's skin with its cold as she huddled against the wall, knees pulled to her chest. Silence pressed on her ears, heavy and alive. She and Esme had barely escaped the chaos at the power plant, their bodies scraped and bruised after their fight with Luke.

She pulled her arms tighter around herself and glanced toward Emma, who sat slouched by a candle. Bryce had joined her after River had left with Mia and Nevaeh.

Her thoughts drifted to Melany. Since her sister's death, nothing had felt the same. Numbness had taken over her—she hadn't meant to hurt Emma, but she couldn't deny that she had brushed her off.

"No more crying today," Bryce said, giving Emma's cheeks a gentle squeeze.

Emma didn't flinch, but rubbed one raw eye and sniffed. Cindy watched, unsure if it was real or just a way to make him stop teasing.

Bryce tilted Emma's chin up with two fingers and gave his sly grin—the one that made her blush. Not from the virus. From him.

Cindy could see that he liked teasing Emma, but underneath it, he really cared—even if he tried to hide it behind that cool attitude.

She fiddled with the corner of her bandage, peeling it back slightly. Part of her didn't feel guilty for exposing the truth about Greyson, but her stomach churned.

What happened to the girl she used to be? The one who cared about others, who didn't shrug off their feelings? Somewhere along the way, she felt herself becoming Scarlett or Greyson— distant, untouchable.

When Bryce finally left the room, Cindy slowly stood against the wall. She had so much to say to Emma, but the words felt tangled. She stepped into the dim room where two candles were glowing on a side table.

"Are you still injured?" Emma's voice cracked.

"No," Cindy said flatly. "I was angry when I told you about being used."

Emma's gaze dropped. "I'm sorry I couldn't save her."

Cindy's jaw tightened. "I meant for Luke," she snapped.

Emma's red-rimmed eyes peeked from under her bangs. She looked like she'd been crying for days.

Cindy's fingers curled in fists. Every blink dragged her back to Melany—her sister's last breath echoing in her mind. Revenge had rooted itself in her bones, giving her a cold edge and keeping others arm's length.

"It's not exactly revenge," Cindy said coldly. "But we did get his arm."

Apologizing felt like choking on gravel. Just Emma. Bella? Not even if the world ended.

"I shouldn't have left you alone in the infirmary," Cindy admitted. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Emma whispered.

"I'm still not going back there."

She couldn't—not after everything. The stabbing, the blood, Melany taking a bullet to protect her. Each memory burned brighter when she thought of the infirmary.

Just then, Esme appeared in the room. "Emma wouldn't blame you," she said. "She'd blame herself."

Emma froze with her eyes wide. "No, no, no!" she stammered.

Esme sped to grab Emma's ankle. With a playful grin, Esme spun her around the room like a rag doll.

"I'm going," Cindy muttered, already stepping back.

"Check the power plant," Esme called after her.

Cindy didn't answer. She just clenched her jaw and bopped out of the room.

The power plant was pitch-black. The air sharp with the smelt of burnt plastic and ozone from the storm. She pressed a hand against the cold wall, squinting through the darkness. A single flashlight lay on the floor, its beam flickering toward a jagged hole in the wall.

She crept down the stairs, every step deliberate, her pulse hammering. The silence pressed in on her. Something was wrong—it was too quiet.

Back at Esme's house, Cindy landed on the carpeted floor. "I need a flashlight," she said.

Without a word, Esme handed her one. Cindy clicked it on. The beam cut through the darkness like a shard of ice.

She scanned the floor slowly, her heart pounding in her ears. Her flashlight landed on a bloodied hand sticking out from beneath a fallen object. Someone had been crushed.

She froze, her mind racing. There was no way she could lift it alone. Her hands trembled as she took a step back.

Her stomach twisted as her eyes landed on a blonde head sprawled across the floor. For a heartbeat, she thought it was Bella. She dropped to her knees beside James, her hands trembling violently as she touched his temple. His glasses were crooked, blood seeping down his cheek.

She grabbed his shoulder and shook. "James!"

No response.

Her eyes darted around the room, looking for clues. That's when she noticed it—a broken pipe, its surface slick with frost, and shards of ice scattered across the floor. She didn't touch it. That was where the main source of the smell came from. She didn't have a clue how mechanical things worked, especially in a large building that controls electricity.

"Breathe, Cindy," she whispered the words to herself, her heart racing. Turning sharply, she spotted another body—this one with a hand twitching faintly. Without hesitation, she rushed over.

At first, she couldn't tell who it was. She dropped to her knees, shaking the body gently at first, then more urgently when there was no response.

"Hey, wake up!" She called out, her voice tinged with desperation.

The figure groaned, shooting a hand out to send her skidding back. She stumbled, her back hitting the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Pain flared in her back, but she stood.

She fumbled for the flashlight at her side and aimed the beam at the figure's face. The light revealed Greyson. He squinted against the brightness, his eyebrows knitting together as he shielded his eyes with his hand.

"What happened?" He seemed surprised at how raspy his voice sounded.

"Well, it seems most of you are unconscious," Cindy stated. "I came here to see if Luke had died yet."

"That's what happened," Greyson hissed as his eyes seemed to widen. "Do you know where Scarlett is?"

Cindy furrowed her eyebrows together. "I only saw James and you, plus someone's hand," she pointed.

Greyson stumbled slightly, a thin trail of blood running down his cheek. The two of them stood in front of a massive piece of machinery that had collapsed, crushing at least two people.

"Who's under it?" he asked, but Cindy shrugged.

Greyson extended his hand, palm facing upwards. The piece of machinery was slowly lifted into the air. With a grunt, he hurled the machinery in the corner of the building, where it landed with a loud crash.

As the dust settled, the two figures under the machinery came into view: Scarlett and Jason.

"Oh my god," they gasped, rushing over.

Cindy knelt beside Scarlett, pressing two fingers to her neck to check her pulse. "She has a pulse," she said.

Scarlett's head was a mess of blood and torn skin. No obvious breaks, but enough blood to turn her stomach.

Cindy flashed the light at Greyson, who had tears down his cheeks. Strange, but she didn't say anything. She put two fingers on Jason's neck; his pulse had been so faint that she barely felt it.

"Can you do something?" Greyson's voice cracked.

Cindy nodded, heart racing. "Help me get Scarlett up. I was just at Emma's."

Greyson held up his palm as Scarlett rose carefully in the air, blood dripping from her arms and legs. He lowered her body onto Cindy's back, draping an arm around her neck.

Greyson turned away from her. "Hey," he started. "I'll kill Luke, and that's not a lie."

"I'll bring her back when she's healed," Cindy said, bopping away and landing in the living room.

"What happened?" Emma rushed over.

Cindy set Scarlett's body slowly on the ground. It was a mess of blood and bruises, her breathing shallow.

"Greyson never said. Everyone is injured or unconscious," Cindy explained.

Emma stared in horror at Scarlett's bloody body. Despite Scarlett and Greyson hurting Emma, she placed a hand on Scarlett's head.

"Bryce, I need a rag!" Emma exclaimed.

Bryce came in with a wet rag and stared, shocked by the sight. "Whoa," he said, looking down at Scarlett's body.

"She and Jason had some huge machinery on them," Cindy said, her eyes widening. "I'll grab Jason."

She grabbed the flashlight and bopped where Jason's body lay, unconscious and battered. Blood streaked the right side of his face, and two of his fingers were bent at unnatural angles.

"You screwed up, Luke." Cindy heard Greyson's voice filled with fury.

Cindy groaned as she hoisted Jason onto her back, his weight digging into her shoulders. Her legs trembled as she focused on bopping. The room spun slightly, and she landed hard on the floor, wincing.

"Scarlett looks worse than him," Esme stated.

"I'll heal Scarlett's head, then move on to Jason," Emma said.

"Should I search for more injured people?" Cindy asked.

"Jade's supposed to be there," Esme implied.

"I didn't see her," Cindy said, watching Emma's face grow nauseous.

Emma's lips were pressed into a tight line. "There's no skin on the back of her neck," she murmured.

"Probably the machinery Greyson removed. Do you have bandages?" Cindy asked.

Esme sped her way, rummaging for some white gauze in the bathroom. Cindy grabbed a rag from the ground, its fabric stiff with dried blood, and began cleaning the area around Jason's head. She did it quickly, wiping away the blood before wrapping gauze snugly around his head. She tucked the end under his ear, securing it in place.

Bryce pressed his hands into his sweatpants pockets, staring at Jason with a smirk. "So, who's gonna tell the housewife he is hurt?"

"I'm going to find Jade and bring back James," Cindy said, bopping away.

She ducked around machinery, her eyes darting around the dark space. She couldn't spot Greyson and Luke anywhere. She grabbed James, slinging his arm over her shoulder, and bopped to the living room.

Greyson may be carrying out an act she can't do herself, but he's also returning a favour. Unless he's doing it just for Scarlett's sake, Cindy wouldn't be surprised. After all, Greyson only thought about himself or Scarlett, and that's it.

She shuffled quietly toward the left corner of the room, her boots scraping against the icy floor. She found Jade's body knocked out cold with the ice clinging to Jade's limbs like glue.

Cindy braced a foot against the floor, yanked, and barely got her to budge. No way she could teleport like this, unless she broke the ice first.

She started chipping away at the ice, each strike of her boot echoing sharply in the cavernous space. Frost cracked and spider-webbed across the floor at she worked.

Slowly, Jade's gloved hands began to free themselves. Cindy grabbed her arm and pulled—but the icy grip held firm, dragging Jade like a weight of molasses.

She teleported back.

"That's everyone for now," Cindy breathed, sitting against the wall.

"Did Lukey die?" Esme asked, seeming eager.

"No," Cindy said quietly. "He's still out there."

Esme knelt beside Jade, checking her breathing before wrapping her in a blanket. "She's just out cold," she said, relieved.

Bryce glanced over. "And Greyson?"

"He's hurt, but he's not leaving," Cindy replied. "He's going to kill Luke."

The name sent a pulse of anger through her. Luke—the one who'd nearly blinded her, the one who took Melany. Her fists clenched. This wasn't just revenge anymore. It was something deeper, sharper.

"You're not really gonna let him do that alone, are you?" Esme asked.

Cindy hesitated. "We'll go. Just... quietly."

Esme grinned. "I can be quiet. Mostly."

Cindy rolled her eyes. The thought of facing Luke again made her stomach twist, but she needed to see it end. Justice or payback—maybe both.

Bryce tossed her a roll of gauze. "Before you go, fix up James. He's breathing weird."

Cindy knelt beside him. "Fine," she murmured, wrapping the bandage around his temple as gently as she could. His glasses were cracked, but his pulse felt steady.

As she began to tend James's other wounds, she noticed that his right wrist was limp, flopping unnaturally to the side.

"His wrist is dislocated," she said, lightly grabbing his finger and holding it up.

"Great..." Emma whispered and ran a hand over her face.

"We could always get Hanna. Or should we get Mark or Zane to come help?" Esme rambled, using hand gestures.

"I'll focus on Jason next. I'd inform Bella," Emma mumbled.

"Which one of us will she yell at?" Bryce snarked.

Cindy didn't want them to actually tell Bella. At this point, she was pretty sure Bella would either lock Jason in a closet or purposely make more excuses.

"Let's go, Esme," Cindy said, grabbing her wrist and landing on the staircase. "We're going to watch a fight."

Cindy wanted to fight, but Greyson wouldn't let them do that. He had already thrown her back when she had woken him up. All she wanted was to see Luke die.

Greyson would never forget the moment Luke hurled the hammer. It cut through the air and slammed into a thick metal pipe running along the floor.

CRACK!

The pipe split in two, pressurized steam bursting from the fracture with a violent hiss. The shockwave of escaping steam knocked them all off balance, sending bodies and debris flying across the room.

Then, everything went dark.

Luke's reckless throw hadn't just hit a pipe. It had destroyed their power main.

No electricity meant no heat. No heat meant no running water. And in the middle of a blizzard, that meant only one thing: death.

"I intended for the hammer to knock out Jason," Luke started. "And Scarlett was a bitch anyway."

"You screwed up, Luke," Greyson taunted, facing one palm at him.

They stood in the middle of the large room building. Smoke lingered in the air, and debris littered the floor. Greyson's head throbbed, but that didn't matter right now.

"Listen," Luke began, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I wasn't aiming for the pipe. I was aiming to hit Jason when he cowardly ran away."

Greyson's eyes flickered to a jagged length of pipe lying among the wreckage. His hand shot out, grasping instinctively with an invisible force. A sharp crack echoed as the pipe bent and split further under his grip.

Luke didn't know the consequences—about the fact that they never get the hydro now. All that mattered was the weight of the pipe suspended in the air, poised like a javelin.

Greyson aimed it directly at Luke, where he wouldn't miss.

"You ruined the ambush and prevented electricity," Greyson hissed. "Do you expect me to forgive you?"

"Punish me, but don't kill me," Luke begged.

Greyson planted his feet firmly, feeling the floor tremble under the residual shock of steam and debris. The room was silent, save for the distant hiss of escaping steam and the howling storm outside.

"You screwed up," he repeated.

Luke's face went pale. "You wouldn't..."

"I would," Greyson spat.

In a fluid motion, his hands shot out. The pipe launched through the air, spinning with lethal precision. With a subtle flick of his hand, Greyson adjusted its path mid-flight, steering it straight toward Luke's chest.

Luke slammed into the wall with a sickening thud, then crumpled to the floor as dust and shards of debris rained around him.

Greyson approached, squinting against the light through the large hole. Luke's head rested at an unnatural angle, a deep gash marring his forehead. Whatever the case, he had been useful, but having him dead was better.

Greyson's head ached, and he stumbled slightly, catching himself against the wall. He hadn't realized how drained he was until now. His vision blurred, and he reached down to grab the small flashlight rolling across the floor.

Suddenly, a faint squeak broke the silence. "Come out or die," he snapped. "He's dead if you're looking for Luke."

Esme burst into the room, speeding past him with her barbed wire invention in hand. She skidded to a stop near Luke's dead body on the ground before groaning.

"Damn it!" Esme shouted. "He got him, Cindy!"

Greyson snapped his eyes at Cindy, who stood near Luke's body with crossed arms.

"Did you expect me to leave him helpless?" Greyson spat.

"You're wrapping him with barbed wire?" Cindy asked dryly.

Greyson glared back at them as Esme rushed around to wrap Luke's body in it.

"I wanted to be part of it. After all, I'm the fastest," Esme gloated.

Greyson was too drained to argue. He tightened his grip on the staircase railing, his steps unsteady as he climbed up. Everything around seemed in ruins, with things knocked over or ice forming on the ground.

"Wait, you're leaving!" Esme called and came speeding to the bottom of the stairs.

"No, I'm just going to play in the snow," he dryly said, rolling his eyes at her. "There's no point in sticking around because I can't get electricity back."

"Is it because that pipe broke?" Cindy questioned.

"So, no heat, water, or anything?" Esme inquired.

Greyson didn't want to shake his head, but he felt his head getting dizzy. Half his plan had worked out—Luke wasn't around to slow him down anymore. The next stop was the mansion that Preston had discovered.

Jason could deal with the rest of his dirty work. The mansion might have everything needed, but Greyson wasn't about to leave everything to chance. He'd leave the thugs to stay back and do the dirty work.

First, he had to make sure Scarlett survived. His eyes stung, and he blinked hard, forcing the image of her broken body from his mind.

"So, what are you going to do?" Cindy asked.

"Get healed," he grumbled.

"Emma's got a lot of people to heal," Esme explained.

"Do you want me to just bop you there?" Cindy asked.

Seeing the open door, Greyson pulled up the black scarf he had tied around his neck. He stumbled through the snow, but the SUV was impossible to find. Spotting the SUV parked nearby, he made a beeline for it. The keys were right in the cup holder once he got in. He slid into the driver's seat, the calmness of the car a relief.

Hearing the back door open, he spun around to see Preston, now visible in the backseat.

"How many times have I said not turn invisible around me?" Greyson snapped.

"I can't feel my head," Preston murmured.

Greyson flicked his hand, causing Preston to hit his head on the seat. "You will be quiet," he barked.

He cranked the SUV to life, the engine growling. He shifted in reverse over the thick piles of snow. As he forced it through the drifts of snow, exhaustion clawed at him.

Four days of trying to get the electricity on, and it doesn't work.

"Where's that island?" Greyson snapped.

"South of Wasaga and in the middle of the lake," Preston murmured. "It's a private island. There's a mansion there—River Dunlop used to live in it."

Greyson snapped his eyes back to glance at Preston. "He'd know where the island is?" he asked. "Where is he?"

"Uden Academy. I think he went back with Mia and Nevaeh," Preston said.

"You'll be coming," Greyson stated. "The leader wants to go on vacation."

"Are we going to the island?" Preston mumbled.

"Jason can deal with all this mess. After all, he's the mayor of Simcoe now."

All of this would add up perfectly well together. If that place had electricity, it'd be like going to Hawaii or even Mexico for a luxury vacation, just as he did one summer.

"Jason can deal with his stupid sister," Greyson spat.

It had all been going according to what he knew. Even with a food shortage, they could deal with their own problems.

"After Scarlett and I are healed, we're going to Uden. Then we find River."

One moment of celebration for Greyson killing Luke! I'm sure many of you are thrilled.

Don't forget to comment and vote!
-Lexi