Ilya wasn't one for gossip, but curiosity pulled her in whenever new news drifted her way.

Nevaeh—infamous for her rumours—had recently shared some fresh tidbits. She loved spilling details about the infirmary's happenings or whispering about people's rumoured to be developing supernatural powers.

Greyson had originally assigned Nevaeh to help with the daycare, but she couldn't stay still—bouncing on her toes, eagerly spilling every scrap of drama she caught wind of.

One of Nevaeh's biggest rumours was that Jason had been brutally beaten, and Bella had been tied up by unknown assailants. On top of that, Jason's stepsister, Ashley, had been acting even more strangely than usual, especially after going missing for over a day.

Ilya leaned against the chipped blue sink, the orange pill bottle in her hand. Eight pills. She had missed three days already. Her fingers tightened around the bottle, but she didn't let herself think about it.

Melany and Cindy were on duty, tending to the injured and those caught in recent fights.

Greyson's strict rules had calmed much of the chaos, but anyone caught starting fights or breaking them still faced punishment.

Despite the rules, some girls still fought over dolls at Kid Palace, a toy store stocked with whatever supplies could still be scavenged. Most of the items had been relocated to the daycare from various houses people had collected.

Down the street, Coffee Culture continued serving donuts and drinks, the only slice of normalcy left. Ilya didn't care for sweets, but her friend Selma adored the jelly-filled pastries with rainbow sprinkles.

Selma wasn't assisting with the daycare, but instead searched for children left alone in their homes. She had joined forces with Xander, Mark, and two students from Uden Academy, Kay and Nicole. Selma had told Ilya how emotionally difficult it was to see those children by themselves.

Ilya gently bounced a toddler on her lap. His sticky fingers clung to her sleeve, tear-streaked cheeks pressed to her chest. Babysitting had never been part of her plan, yet in this moment, comforting him felt more important than anything else.

Her true passion was psychology—understanding how the mind worked, why people hurt others, and how they healed. She'd imagined herself guiding others through trauma, not mediating toy disputes or wiping noses im the daycare.

Just as she tried to distract Milo with a toy, the door swung open. She looked up and noticed Greyson and Scarlett entered. While Greyson wore a charming smile, Scarlett looked around with disdain.

A third girl followed, leaning against the wall. Her maroon hair was pulled back in twin pigtails and was fiddling with her golden necklace.

"Bailey's here to help out," Greyson announced.

Ilya rose, gently hoisting Milo from the floor. The weight of him dragged at her arms, muscles aching from hours of holding and soothing, but she didn't let go.

These children needed comfort more than she needed rest, and she could rest later.

"I'll take him," Teagan offered, stepping in to help.

Gratefully, Ilya handed the boy off. Teagan was older girl who helped in the daycare. Most of the helpers were in seventh grade or lower, with the exception of Layla, who was only a year younger than Ilya.

"Some boys will continue to deliver stock if needed," Greyson added.

He had been a huge help with the daycare, and while Nevaeh may have been spreading gossip about him being responsible for Jason's injuries, Ilya couldn't believe it. Greyson didn't seem like the type to cause harm to anyone. After all, rumours were often just idle gossip in the first place.

"I'm never having kids," Scarlett muttered, grabbing Ilya's wrist lightly.

Ilya gazed at her, eyebrows knitted in confusion. Was this some kind of sacrifice that they performed at Uden?

Scarlett pulled her hand back and shook her head at Greyson.

"By the way, thank you for your assistance," Ilya said.

"We have to make sure the children are safe," Greyson said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We can't let what happened during the fire repeat itself."

His desire to prevent the fire incident from happening again was noble. He seemed genuinely invested in helping the daycare and the community figure out what was going on around here.

"We're planning another meeting in Simcoe. If you can, come," he said.

Ilya nodded at his words as the two left. She wondered why they needed another meeting when most tasks had already been figured out. It was clear that anyone over the age of fifteen had disappeared, leaving the rest of them stranded.

She knew her parents would never just abandon her. They had come to Simcoe to start a new life, and she had enjoyed living with her sister ever since. Despite the cultural differences from Dubai, most of the people she had met in Canada were friendly. However, Uden was a different story, as some of the behaviours there were troublesome.

As she quietly returned, Ilya exhaled and turned toward the kitchen. She needed caffeine more than sleep at this point. She poured herself a mug of black coffee and added a splash of cream, the warmth soothing against her palms.

She might get three hours of sleep before a child woke up crying for food or for their parents that weren't coming back.

Some of the girls in the corner were trying their best, bottle-feeding infants and entertaining toddlers with toys. Despite the chaos outside, they clung to this place of small order.

Ilya took a gulp of bitter coffee, then set the mug down with a clink. She slapped her cheeks lightly, trying to jolt herself awake. Sleep wasn't an option when children's lives were in danger.

Cindy Yung liked helping people, even when the world around her felt like it was falling apart. She knelt beside a young boy in the infirmary, pressing a bandage over his scraped knee. He sniffled, but didn't cry, and she offered a small smile. Helping with cuts and bruises was something she could still understand, even now.

Across the room, her older sister Melany sat cross-legged on a narrow cot, flipping through a thick, battered medical books. Their father had been a doctor before the adults vanished, and now the responsibility of caring for others landed on their shoulders.

Understanding how to treat a sprain or identify a concussion was way beyond anything Cindy had learned in seventh-grade health class. Cuts and scrapes were simple, but none of that prepared her for the girl who had some purple contamination in her system.

Cindy was wiping down a metal tray when the church door creaked open. Greyson stepped in first, a calm smile on his face. Behind him came Scarlett, her eyebrow arched as her eyes swept over the rectangular room.

Greyson walked over and stopped in front of Melany, offering a handshake.

"I'm guessing you two are the ones helping out as Simcoe's nurses?" he asked.

Melany stood up and shook his hand with a firm grip. "I'm Melany, and this is my younger sister, Cindy. We've been doing what we can to help."

Greyson's eyes moved through the infirmary. "Town meeting," he said. "This afternoon. We're deciding what comes next before things fall apart further. Everyone who's been helping out needs to be there."

Scarlett extended her hand to Melany, shaking it slowly and deliberately. Then she turned to Cindy, offering a quick, confident smile before taking her hand and shaking it.

"I'm sure you could use some help here," Greyson added.

Melany let out a long, relieved breath and dropped the medical book onto the red blanket beside her. "Medications are the hardest part to handle," she admitted quietly.

Cindy reached over and gave her sister's hand a gentle squeeze. "We've got this, Mel," she said softly.

Melany gave a small, grateful smile, and for a moment the weight of responsibility felt lighter.

Greyson crouched beside her, reaching out to give her hand a brief squeeze and a gentle pat on the back.

"That's why we're holding this meeting," he said softly, pulling back. "Make sure you tell everyone about it, especially Jason."

Cindy felt a flicker of gratitude toward Greyson's reassurance.

Jason had been their leader, but with his injury keeping him sidelined, their leadership felt shaky at best. And if the rumours about Jason and Bella were true, maybe someone else had been pulling the strings all along.

Greyson seemed like the kind of person who could steer them through this entire ordeal. She found herself wondering if he would step up to lead Simcoe instead of staying back at Uden.

Cindy closed her eyes with a slow sigh.

When she opened them again, the infirmary was gone. Her bedroom replaced it—lavender walls, fairy lights twinkling, and a tall mirror reflecting her own uncertain gaze.

Everything felt too real.

She reminded herself she was still in the church infirmary.

Closing her eyes, she replayed Greyson's words about the meeting.

When she opened them again, she was sitting on the cold floor.

Melany stared in horror, Scarlett's eyebrow arched with a knowing smirk, and Greyson stood nearby, his smile charming.

"Some of us have abilities," Greyson said slowly.

Cindy blinked. Abilities? Was he joking?

Humans weren't meant to teleport, or control elements, or do anything like that. They were supposed to walk or drive. Her hands trembled slightly as she stared down at them.

"Other people have powers?" she whispered.

Greyson nodded. "Scarlett can measure and rank people's power—high, medium, low, and very low. Sometimes, she can even tell what the power is."

Scarlett leaned back against the wall. Cindy's eyes flickered to her for a moment—her dark, flowing hair framed her face perfectly, and her deep blue eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief. She was beautiful, in a way that made Cindy's stomach twist with a mix of admiration and nerves.

"Your rank is medium by the way," Scarlett said. "But Greyson's power is different than mine."

"The meeting will get held at the church," Greyson said, deliberately leaving out the details Scarlett has mentioned.

Cindy wondered if his power differed from hers—was it faster, or even capable of healing? Finding someone who could heal wounds magically would be a huge advantage, especially if they came from Uden and had medical knowledge.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting a warm golden glow across the room. Jason didn't want to move. His head throbbed painfully as he tried to roll over on the large bed. He took in the fancy bedroom with mirrored closet doors, and white decor.

Mark walked into the bedroom.

"Yikes, dude, you look rough," he said, moving quickly to help Jason sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palm against his temples. The room tilted sideways, walls wobbling like water. Each heartbeat sent a sharp pulse through his skull, making the sunlight slicing through the blinds feel like needles.

Mark's voice pulled Jason back from the pain. "Bella found some information. And Ashley was kidnapped and still being held hostage?"

Jason opened his eyes and gave a weak nod, as if the motion alone cost him something.

He tried to stand.

The world tilted.

His legs trembled, then buckled, and collapsed inward like a broken puppet.

A groan caught in his throat from the humiliation of not being able to support himself.

"Easy," Mark said.

Jason buckled, his legs giving out beneath him. Mark caught him before he hit the floor and steadied him as they moved down the hallway.

Jason's mind raced despite the pain. Scarlett had stopped Henry and Stick from killing him—why? He'd assumed Greyson wanted him dead for sure. The question nagged at him, twisting tighter with every breath.

Mark lowered Jason onto the couch. He rolled onto his side, eyes fixed at the black TV screen. The silence pressed harder against the pain.

Bella entered the room quietly, as if she didn't want to startle him.

Her eyes widened the moment she saw him.

She wore a loose t-shirt, sleeves rolled up, and Jason couldn't help but notice the faint marks on her arms again. The cuts from the skipping rope were healed, but raw lines still showed like scars refusing to fade.

His stomach tightened.

The thoughts came in a rush, sharp and cruel.

He hated himself for it. If he'd been faster, he could've stopped Henry and Stick from dragging her into that classroom. But Greyson's power, plus a fourteen-year grudge, had tossed him aside like a rag doll.

Teagan Baker crouched in front of him, holding a plate with a single pancake and a fork. Jason didn't know her well, but he knew Bella—and Teagan didn't seem like the kind of girl who cared about popularity anymore.

The front door slammed opened.

Scarlett leaned casually against the frame, wearing her usual smirk. Jason winced as he turned his head toward her. Without hesitation, she grabbed Teagan's wrist, raised an eyebrow, before letting go.

"Scarlett—" Bella hissed.

"Where's my thank you?" she snickered.

Jason's voice came out raw, barely above a whisper. "For what?"

Scarlett knelt in front of him, brushing a finger lightly across his cheek. "For letting you go. Stick and Henry were actually going to kill you. Do you really think Greyson would've wanted that?"

Jason's face drained of colour drain as he watched her move, settling easily into the grey recliner like she owned the house.

"It still doesn't change the outcome," Bella said sharply.

Scarlett tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. "Greyson wants all of you at the church assembly," she said casually. "We wouldn't want another incident again."

Jason didn't miss the wink she gave before turning on her heel. She was acting on her own—this wasn't an order from Greyson.

"Wow," Teagan whispered, clearly shaken.

Bella returned to helping Jason eat, though his headache had begun roaring back, pulsing behind his eyes.

Scarlett's smirk lingered even as she walked away, and Jason's chest tightened. She'd saved them but not like someone saving a person. More like someone collecting debt.

Mark leaned against the edge chair. "In a way, she did save you," he said.

Bella's frown deepened. She'd never liked Scarlett since day one. Between Scarlett's sharp tongue and Luke cold-blooded threats, their opinions were thinning fast.

A loud thump jolted everyone's attention—Cindy was suddenly sprawled across the floor. They stared in wide-eyed shock as she slowly pushed herself up, breathing hard.

"Greyson wants everyone at the church," she gasped.

"Wait—" Bella cut in.

"You can teleport?" Jason managed.

Cindy nodded, brushing loose strands of dark hair back into her bun as she stepped to Jason's side. Her fingers were cold against his forehead. "He said in an hour, or whenever he could gather the most people."

She pulled out a small tube from her pocket, squeezing out a clear gel. She dabbed it on Jason's skin, and he clenched his jaw as the cream burned cold, flaring his bruises. Without a word, she turned and gently rubbed some across Bella's arms.

"I can get you get to the church, Jason," Cindy said softly.

He was, as some might say, crippled—his body no longer obeyed him. Even standing on his own took everything he had, and speaking for more than a few minutes left him exhausted.

The golf cart nearly ran out of gas, and Uden Academy was on the other side of the highway. Walking wasn't an option for him.

"No backtalk," he said. "I don't want anyone else hurt because of me."

Bella looked torn, her eyes flickering between him and Cindy.

Jason opened his mouth, then closed it again. His throat burned, each word lodged like a stone. His hands curled into fists against Cindy's shoulder, then fell slack. The world felt like it was tipping—Greyson, the fight, Scarlett's smirk, Bella's fear—all spinning together, and he couldn't grab onto any of it.

Stick and Henry had already tried to kill them—no explanation, no remorse. Scarlett's surprise intervention had bought them time, but it wouldn't last. And Luke was still holding Ashley hostage at Uden.

Once this meeting ended, they'd need a real plan. No mistakes.

"Fine," Bella said at last.

Cindy glanced at Bella, who was still staring at the faint marks on her arms. They didn't compare to Jason's wounds, but they'd left their mark—on her skin and her trust.

Gently, Cindy slipped Jason's arm over her shoulder. "All right. Let's go," she said softly.

One moment he was in Bella's house. The next, the word snapped away and he hit the infirmary floor inside the church.

The teleportation left his stomach spinning.

Melany looked up from her cot, a thick a medical book open across her lap, diagrams of broken bones and ligaments sketched across the page.

The infirmary looked just as it did last time—cramped, sterile, and lit by the sunlight. New supplies lined the shelves: bottles of painkillers, gauze rolls, thermometers, and a few crutches stacked in the corner.

One cabinet was now labeled "Pain Relief & Infections," the handwriting clear and cursive.

"Feeling a bit better?" Melany asked gently as she moved to help him sit up on the edge of the cot.

"I brought him here to get checked," Cindy said.

Footsteps echoed from above—the creak of the old floorboards signalling that Greyson was setting up for his speech. Jason felt a sick twist in his stomach at the thought of Greyson's outburst last night. Whether it came from jealousy or some twisted ambition, he wasn't sure. But it hadn't felt right.

Melany and Cindy each took one of Jason's arms and helped him to his feet. His legs buckled twice before they managed to steady him. Every step felt like forced, his body refusing the idea of balancing.

Just outside the door, James stood with his laptop balanced on his arms, eyes locked on the screen like he just discovered something important.

"Hi, James," Jason said, his voice hoarse.

The boy flinched, clearly startled, then turned and gave a small nod before quickly returning his eyes to the screen.

"Be sure to wait out front," James said quickly.

Melany pushed the heavy church door open.

The noise hit Jason like a wave.

Voices washed through the entrance, pressing against his ears. People shifted, stared, whispered.

Jason felt his heart hammer in his chest. Every breath was too loud.

The crowd had gathered on the front steps, packed close like they were trying to hold each other for balance. Their faces were turned upward, eyes fixed on the balcony above.

They moved him forward, slowly as if he were fragile glass. A hand guided him toward a bench beside a cement planter. Pink camellias petals lay crushed over the rim, darkened by damp.

Jason's gaze drifted up.

Greyson stood on the balcony, centre-stage, flanked by Scarlett and Luke. He smiled pleasant and calm. The kind of smile that looked like it belonged to someone who achieved what they wanted.

"I know many of you are confused by what's been happening," Greyson began, his voice smooth. "We've confirmed that everyone over the age of fifteen has disappeared. Some of you already know about the split between Uden Academy and Simcoe, but most of us, we're still strangers. But, in The Bubble, we're all that's left. And we're all survivors now."

"What do you mean, 'The Bubble'?" someone in the crowd called out.

"The Bubble is this—everything left behind. Simcoe, Uden Academy, all of us. It's no longer just your school or mine. It's everyone under fifteen, trying to survive," Greyson replied. "And from what I understand, Jason Harp has been lead you. Is that right?"

Nevaeh Bolton raised her voice from the centre of the crowd. "He's been hurt a lot lately. It's been hard for him to keep running things."

Greyson's smile widened on the balcony, his voice calm and almost sympathetic. "Leadership isn't easy," he said calmly. "And if Jason can't handle it anymore, I can."

Jason's eyes widened in disbelief. He wanted to speak, to shot—but his throat was dry, and his body too weak to rise.

Around him, people slowly began nodding.

"I can also help manage the daycare, the infirmary, and security," Greyson continued, his voice steady. "Luke will assess where security is needed most, once we have finalized leadership rolls." He scanned the crowd. "So, who here already considers themselves a leader?"

A few hands went up. Then more followed, hesitant but multiplying.

Jason spotted Ilya, Henry, Nelson, Henry, Stick, and lifting their arms.

"We'll continue inside," Greyson said, motioning calmly toward the church doors. "Only those who raised their hands."

Cindy and Melany exchanged a glance, then quietly moved to Jason's side. They helped him to his feet, his legs trembling with each step as they ascended the chapel's stairs.

Inside, sunlight spilled through the stained-glass windows, painting fractured hues of red and blue across the pews.

The church's interior was wide and solemn, the curved pews forming arcs beneath the vaulted beams. The large crucifix still hung above the altar—unchanged, but somehow heavier now.

Greyson stood at the front, beside the altar, flanked again by Scarlett and Luke. Emma lingered near the side, her arms behind her back.

Sixteen people sat scattered across the pews.

On one side: Jason, Bella, Mark, Zane, Melany, Cindy, Ilya, Nevaeh, and Nelson.

On the other: Greyson, Scarlett, Luke, Henry, Stick, James Pyle, Finn Earl, and Emma.

The room felt split—not just by seating, but loyalty.

Greyson folded his hands in front of him. "Most of you, we've already met. And since the current system clearly isn't working, I've created something a method that will create structure."

Jason glanced sideways. Bella sat stiffly, her eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed tightly. She wasn't looking at him—she was watching Greyson with barely restrained suspicion. Jason didn't blame her.

Greyson gestured toward Emma. "Emma will now be assisting in the infirmary. She Uden's designated healer and capable of repairing broken bones."

Melany rose to her feet so quickly the bench creaked under her. "Thank you," she said with relief. "We've needed the help."

Emma gave a small nod without looking up.

"Luke will take over security," Greyson went on. "He'll evaluate threats and organize patrols throughout the area." He stepped closer to Ilya, Nelson, and Zane, his smile flickering. "You three have. You'll continue your duties. Jason, I'd suggest you help out at the fire station." His gaze drifted to Nevaeh. "And Nevaeh, from what I've heard, you're our official information hub."

Nevaeh grinned. "From relationship drama to secrets no one wants to spill, I hear it all."

Nevaeh was his Jason's age—he remembered sharing classes with her, though they'd never been close. She had a reputation for drama, and once, a teammate warned him about a rumour she spread involving Bella and Teagan. It wasn't her cruelty, but how fast she could spread the word.

"If you hear anything important, bring it to me directly," Greyson instructed. "Henry, Stick, and Finn, you'll be assisting Luke with security."

Finn shot up from his seat, hands flailing. "I'm not working with that freak!" he shouted, glaring at Luke.

Without a word, three thick Bibles rose slowly from the floor—then snapped forward like hammers, slamming into Henry, Stick, and Finn heads with a thud.

Finn yelped stumbling forward as tears sprang to his eyes.

Henry cursed under his breath.

No one moved.

Jason's gaze snapped to Greyson. His hands were still clasped neatly in front of him—just like the other day, when he'd sent Jason flying without lifting a finger. No movement. No warning. Just an invisible force.

"Having your group on board strengthens our numbers," Greyson said smoothly. "We need every hand we can get to keep this place running."

Henry scowled, running the back of his head. "Fine," he muttered.

"There's one last thing I should clarify," Greyson added, his eyes locking with Jason's. "Jason and I are twins."

Mark stared at Jason with wide eyes, just like half the room. The silence stretched thin, stunned by the revelation. In a place held together by fragile trust and shaky leadership, thud truth wasn't just personal—it could tear The Bubble apart.

Who is your favourite character so far?
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-Lexi