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Sam pressed her back against the cool, jagged surface of the crystalline rock Rosa had led her to. The mineral's faintly metallic scent mixed with the crisp air, creating an otherworldly fragrance that lingered in her nose. The rock shimmered faintly under the soft light filtering through the canopy above, its surface glinting like scattered starlight. In the distance, the hushed murmurs of the others blended within the background like the rustles of leaves, forming a tranquil symphony that set the stage for their intimate conversation.
Her gaze was fixed on the ground, her posture slightly slouched as if the weight of the revelations was already pressing down on her. Rosa's voice, steady and imbued with a quiet authority, wove through the stillness, unraveling the hidden truths of a world Sam had never dared to imagine. Each word seemed to chip away at the fragile walls of her understanding, revealing glimpses of a reality far stranger—and far larger—than she had ever known. Rosa's explanation was precise, almost clinical, yet her tone carried a thread of compassion as if she understood how overwhelming the truth could be.
As Rosa's words sank in, fragmented memories flickered through Sam's mind like shards of glass catching the light. There were gaps in her recollection, blank spaces that swallowed crucial moments of her past. Chief among them was the shadowy haze surrounding her father's death—a tragic event she could only partially recall, as though pieces of the puzzle had been ripped from her consciousness. Then there was the persistent, gnawing sense of otherness. Sam had always felt like a misfit as if her very existence was out of sync with the rhythm of the world around her. She had questioned her place in society, doubted her identity, and wrestled with the unnerving idea that she was something... different. Yet now, as Rosa revealed the truth, a strange and unexpected solace crept into her heart.
Normal? No. But perhaps she wasn't as alien to this world as she had thought.
Lifting her head, Sam met Rosa's gaze, her expression a mixture of skepticism and hesitant belief. She inhaled deeply, her chest rising as she processed the enormity of what had just been explained.
"So, let me get this straight," Sam began, her voice steady but tinged with disbelief. "Extraterrestrial life is real. There are... other races out there apart from us humans." She paused, her eyes narrowing in thought. "And this planet—our planet—also happens to have some kind of secret, hidden civilization that coexists alongside..."
"The mundane world," Rosa interjected smoothly. Her voice carried a quiet authority, her words deliberate and measured. "We call it the Hidden World. It's not just a civilization, Sam; it's an entirely different dimension layered over our own. The Hidden World has existed alongside the Regular World for centuries—perhaps even longer than recorded history. No one knows how far back it goes. What we do know is that Terra—this planet—has some kind of natural barrier, an ancient veil, that conceals any evidence or proof of—"
"Supernatural forces," Sam murmured, finishing the thought. Her gaze drifted to her hands, which rested on her lap. She turned them over, examining them as if searching for some hidden trace of the extraordinary within herself.
The silence stretched between them for a moment before Sam broke it, her voice tinged with awe. "So, you... you can use magic?"
Rosa shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "Unfortunately, no. I'm not a Mage," she replied. Her tone was light, but there was a hint of pride in her next words. "I don't have knowledge of the Arcane Arts. But I am what you might call a Mystic Artist—someone who can manipulate Mystical Energy. It's not the same as being a Mage. That's... far more complicated."
Sam furrowed her brow, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Mystical Energy? What's the difference?"
Rosa tilted her head, considering her words carefully. "Think of it this way: Mystical Energy is like raw, untamed power that flows through everything. A Mystic Artist shapes that energy, like a sculptor molding clay. A Mage, on the other hand..." She hesitated, her expression momentarily shadowed. "A Mage doesn't just manipulate energy. They command it, binding it with intricate spells and ancient knowledge that we Mystic Artists can only begin to comprehend. It's a level of complexity that goes beyond what most people can grasp."
Sam nodded slowly, the weight of Rosa's explanation settling over her like a heavy cloak. The world she thought she knew had shattered, leaving her standing amidst the fragments of a far greater reality. And yet, for the first time in her life, she felt a glimmer of understanding—not just about the world, but about herself.
"Mystical artist," Sam repeated, her voice tinged with curiosity and skepticism. The words felt foreign, yet oddly resonant as if they stirred something buried deep within her. A fleeting thought crossed her mind—what category did she fit into?
"So, we're living in some kind of fantasy world," Henry muttered, his tone half-joking but laced with unease.
"Does this look like a fantasy world to you?" Trini interjected sharply. Sam's attention shifted to the petite, brown-haired girl, taking in her appearance with more scrutiny than before. Despite her small frame and youthful look, Trini carried herself with a confidence that belied her age, as if she had seen and experienced far more than Sam could imagine.
"An Echo Field is not a place mundane humans can survive in," Trini added.
"I still don't understand what an Echo Field is," Sam said, her brow furrowed.
"All you need to know is that an Echo Field like this one is a dangerous place to be," Trini replied bluntly, folding her arms across her chest as if daring anyone to argue.
Sam glanced around, her thoughts spiraling. "How did we even get here? I... I remember there was some kind of earthquake, and then a pillar of light. And then I woke up here."
"Me too," Henry added, nodding.
"I have no idea," Callum admitted, his dark eyes flicking toward Rosa.
Rosa raised an eyebrow at him but remained silent.
"You don't know?" Trini interjected, her tone dripping with skepticism. "I'd think a Guardian would have some clue as to what's happening."
"Guardian?" Sam repeated, looking between Trini and Rosa. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Callum leaned against a nearby tree, his demeanor almost too casual. "Think of it as some kind of police force for the Hidden World," he explained. Then, with a sly grin, he added, "Though I have to say, Rosa, you're young to be one. Are you nineteen?"
"Do I look like a hag?" Rosa shot back, narrowing her eyes at him.
"No," Callum replied quickly, his sheepish smile doing little to hide his amusement. "I just thought you might be one of them..."
"I'm not," Rosa grumbled, the edge in her voice unmistakable. "And even if I was, it wouldn't matter right now. All I know is my job, and that's all I care about."
Sam arched an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into her expression. Her gaze flicked toward the group of students nearby—students she recognized from Yesh University. Unlike the panicked crowd around them, these individuals seemed unnervingly composed, their calmness standing in stark contrast to the fear and confusion gripping most of the others. They lingered on the edges, listening intently to the conversation but keeping to themselves.
Sam's voice broke the silence. "Tell me it's not a coincidence that I just happen to go to a school where some of the students have... mystical powers or whatever." Her tone was laced with sarcasm, but the undercurrent of frustration was impossible to miss.
Rosa and Callum exchanged a glance before Callum spoke. "Yesh University isn't your regular school," he said matter-of-factly. "It's a font used by Golden Dawn to recruit outsiders from the Hidden World who awaken as Mystics."
Sam scoffed, her head spinning with the weight of everything she was hearing. Her aunt's voice echoed in her mind—her aunt Stella, who had pushed her toward Yesh, who had connections. "Aunt Stella," she muttered under her breath. "What the hell have you been keeping from me?"
"He's right," Rosa said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sam's hands balled into fists at her sides. "What the hell is Golden Dawn?" she snapped.
"It's the organization I work for," Rosa admitted reluctantly. "The organization your family belongs to, Sam."
"No. No, no, no!" Sam's voice rose in pitch as she waved her hands in denial, stepping back as if she could physically distance herself from the truth. "That's impossible. My aunt was the one who recommended Yesh! She's the one who pulled the strings to get me in there!"
"I'm sorry, Sam," Rosa said, her tone heavy with regret. "You weren't supposed to find out like this."
****
Sam felt like she was trapped in a corner of her own mind, the weight of everything she had just learned pressing down on her. Life on other planets, mystical forces, hidden worlds—all of it seemed like something out of the comics she'd buried herself in as a child. The reality of it was overwhelming, and her thoughts swirled as she tried to make sense of it all. But it wasn't just the new, impossible world that was weighing on her—it was her own life. The ability she had, the one she could barely control, that had always made her feel different, out of place. Her relationship with her aunt was no clearer now than it had been before.
Stella had always been a distant figure, the sister of Sam's mother, who she had never met. Her father, before he died, never spoke of her mother—not in the memories Sam had, at least. She had always assumed her mother was gone, never once considering that her condition might have been something inherited. A sharp pang shot through Sam's head, a throb in her temple that made her wince. She instinctively massaged the area, trying to soothe the headache that had blossomed there, but the emotional toll was heavy—too heavy to ignore. Rosa's words echoed in her mind, describing the devastation that had unfolded.
According to Rosa, the pillar of light had transported all the citizens of Chicago—everyone, from the north, south, and west sides—into this alien space. Even the people from the metropolitan areas had been included. Yet the cost was staggering. Rosa had estimated that nearly ninety percent of the people who had been brought here were already dead, casualties of the unknown, the incomprehensible. Sam didn't want to think about the faces of those lost souls, the lives cut short without reason. The ache in her head flared again, sharper this time, and she winced. She had to focus. She had to find a way to push past it. But the feedback from the chaos in her mind—the swirling static, the fragmented thoughts—was getting harder and harder to ignore. It was all too much.
Across the cavernous underground space, the mood among the survivors was deteriorating. The nerves of the people were unraveling, and it was becoming more and more difficult to suppress the rising panic. Sam could hear the muffled shouts and the scuffling of feet as some individuals broke into petty infighting. Some tried to stick together—families huddling in tight circles, their faces strained with fear and confusion. No one had yet taken charge of the situation. The Mystics among them, who were better equipped to handle the strange energy of the Echo, remained just as lost as the Mundanes. Even those who had some experience with mystical abilities, like Callum and Trynr, were uncertain. It wasn't just about knowledge; it was about survival. The sheer unpredictability of the Echo Field left even the most skilled Mystic powerless. And Rosa—who had more experience than most—was as much in the dark as the rest of them. This was her first time being in an Echo field.
Rosa pulled her Zodiak from her dimensional storage band, the ethereal device shimmering with otherworldly energy. She twirled it in her hand before dismissing it with a frustrated sigh. She had hoped that, somehow, she would be able to send a distress signal back to her headquarters, to summon help. But there was nothing—no signal, no way of reaching out to anyone. They were alone in this strange place, isolated and with no clear direction. Sam watched Rosa, the worry lines on her face deepening as she tucked the Zodiak away. The quiet desperation was palpable, but Rosa kept it hidden behind a mask of calm professionalism. It was a facade Sam had learned to recognize. Rosa was doing her best to hold it together, but Sam could see the cracks forming. This situation was nothing like any of them had imagined.
"It's impossible to communicate electronically in an Echo field," Trynr said, her voice tinged with a quiet frustration. "We're cut off from normal space." She had been watching Rosa intently, noting the Zodiak Rosa had summoned from her dimensional storage. Rosa had hoped the Zodiak would somehow provide a means of communication, but Trynr had already anticipated its failure. There was no signal, no way to contact the outside world. No way to even figure out where they were. They were truly isolated, trapped within the eerie confines of the Echo.
Sam, still struggling with the overwhelming feedback of her thoughts and the emotional weight of the situation, lifted her gaze from the ground where she had been staring blankly. Her eyes met Rosa's, but her attention quickly flickered elsewhere. She needed to focus. Her head felt as though it were being crushed by the weight of everything she had just learned. The reality of the situation—the existence of otherworldly powers, alien forces, and mystical abilities—was so foreign, so impossible. Her mind was reeling, and she felt the headache intensifying. Then, something inside her stirred. Almost instinctively, Sam began to hum, the melody soft and tentative at first, like the distant flutter of a bird's wings. She wasn't consciously aware of what she was doing, but as the melody filled the space around her, she could feel the pressure in her mind begin to recede. The sharp, jagged edges of the emotions that had been stabbing at her thoughts slowly dulled, like an instrument whose strings were gently loosened. Sam took a breath, and the hum grew stronger, more defined. Her voice—once quiet—grew into something smoother, warmer, and more melodic, effortlessly blending with the raw emotion coursing through her.
The moment her song shifted, the colors around her began to stir. It started small—just a faint shimmer, a soft ripple—but soon, like the brush of an artist's hand on a canvas, the colors bloomed and spread, flowing across the air. Soft blues and pinks, delicate golds and purples, swirled around her as if they were drawn to the very essence of her voice. The energy in the air thickened. It wasn't just the calm that had fallen over Sam, it was the entire space around her, the entire atmosphere. The harmonies in her song seemed to create a fragile balance, and with it came a deep sense of peace, as though the colors themselves were woven into the very fabric of her being. Her headache faded completely, replaced by a sense of warmth that spread from her chest to the tips of her fingers, and for the first time since she had been thrust into this strange, alien world, Sam felt something akin to control. For a brief moment, everything seemed to make sense.
Then, as she continued to sing, something unexpected happened. A wave of calmness swept through the crowd of survivors around her. Sam's song was powerful—not just in its beauty, but in the effect it had on those around her. She became aware, with a strange sense of detached clarity, that every single person in the space had stopped what they were doing and was now looking at her. Their gazes, once filled with fear, confusion, and desperation, had softened. Anxiety, terror, and panic seemed to melt away under the gentle sway of her voice. It wasn't just the Mystics like Rosa who were affected—every person, regardless of their connection to the mystical arts, was now calmed. Even those who had been huddling in fear, unsure of how to survive, now sat in peace, their nerves soothed by the resonance of Sam's melody. Sam froze, the sudden awareness making her self-conscious. She stopped singing, her voice trailing off as she glanced around. Every single person, even Rosa, was staring at her, their eyes wide with wonder, their faces relaxed and serene. Sam's heart began to race, and a flush of warmth spread across her cheeks. She wasn't used to attention, especially not like this.
"What's going on?" Sam murmured, her voice barely audible. The silence in the air seemed almost too thick, too oppressive, and the weight of the gazes turned her stomach.
"Was... Was that you?" Callum's voice broke the stillness, his words laced with disbelief.
"Was what me?" Sam asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"I knew you had some kind of ability," Rosa whispered, stepping closer, her voice full of awe. "But I had no idea it was that impressive."
Rosa's gaze shifted over the crowd, observing the way their emotions had been swayed. People who had been on the brink of breakdown were now calm, the terror they'd been facing only moments ago forgotten. It was as if Sam's song had done more than just alleviate fear; it had washed over them, blanketing their minds with peace. The emotional manipulation, Rosa thought, was merely a side effect. This was something deeper. Something tied to the very essence of the soul. Rosa, ever the Mystic artist, had trained her mind to resist such influence. She was accustomed to shielding herself from psychic and emotional manipulation, her mental discipline far stronger than that of an average person. But Sam's influence… it was unlike anything she had ever encountered. Even Rosa felt the pull, the calmness settling in her chest, the anxiety she had carried for so long about their current situation fading away as Sam's song reverberated through the space.
Sam, oblivious to the full extent of what she had done, watched as the colors danced through the air, streaks of radiant hues bouncing off one another, weaving in and out of the space. She stretched a hand toward them, reaching out to touch the strands of light, but her fingers passed through them without any sensation. The pull, the need to understand, to follow the colors, only deepened. Without thinking, Sam began to sing again. Her voice, now more confident and full of purpose, filled the space once more. As she did, the colors intensified, their vibrancy illuminating the entire ceiling, painting it with hues of gold, silver, and violet. The colors surged, spiraling upward like a living entity, almost as if they were alive, beckoning Sam to follow them.
Her eyes followed the colors as they twisted and turned, guiding her toward the far end of the cavernous space. There, on the opposite side from where everyone had entered, was a hole—an opening in the stone, its edges jagged and incomplete. It seemed as though it were missing its door, its hinges, or some vital part of its structure, as though it had been torn from the rest of the space. Sam, feeling the pull, took a step toward the hole, her feet moving almost without her conscious thought. The colors around her continued to swirl, pushing her forward, but just as she was about to take another step, a voice called out from behind her.
"Sam! Wait!"
Henry's voice cut through the air, sharp and insistent. Sam stopped mid-step, turning her head back toward him. His face was etched with worry, his brow furrowed in concern.
"Don't go near it," Henry said, his tone firm. "We don't know what's on the other side."
For a moment, Sam hesitated, the pull to explore the hole still tugging at her. She looked from Henry's pleading eyes to the gaping opening that seemed to beckon her. She had the sudden, undeniable feeling that the hole was the key to something greater. But Henry's warning lingered in her mind, grounding her for the moment. As she stood there, caught between the unknown and the need to understand, she knew one thing for certain—whatever was ahead, it wasn't something she could face alone.
"Something is calling me," Sam said softly, her voice filled with an inexplicable certainty. She couldn't articulate the feeling, nor did she fully understand it, but the pull toward the hole was undeniable. It was as if her very soul recognized that this was the right path, the right move, and she had no choice but to follow it. There was something beyond the hole—something important, something that called to her on a deeper, almost primal level.
"What's calling you?" Rosa asked, her voice tinged with concern and curiosity.
"I... I don't know," Sam admitted, shaking her head. "But I can't ignore it. It's like... it's pulling me, urging me to go through."
Rosa's brows furrowed, trying to piece together the mystery, but she didn't question Sam any further. Instead, she turned to Trini for her opinion.
"We should be careful," Trini cautioned, her voice low and serious. "An Echo field is a volatile environment, full of dangers we can't anticipate. It's not a place where you can just wander around. There are Mystic beasts like those Grandid ants, and who knows what else is lurking in here?"
Sam shook her head, her resolve only growing stronger. "No. I don't think it's dangerous," she insisted, her voice more confident now. The pull was becoming more intense, a magnetic force guiding her forward. Fear still lingered in the back of her mind, but it was quickly overshadowed by an unshakable instinct to follow the path before her. She couldn't sit here any longer, waiting for answers that might never come. She couldn't bear to face the truth about her family, about her only remaining loved one. No, this pull offered something else—a chance to move forward, to do something, to escape the heavy weight of her thoughts. Rosa's gaze softened for a moment, her lips pursing as she considered the situation. After a beat of silence, she made up her mind.
"I think we should follow her," Rosa said, her voice firm. There was no hesitation now. She had made the decision. Sam might not fully understand what was happening, but Rosa could feel something stirring deep within her, a sense that Sam's actions were guided by something far greater than they realized. Callum shrugged in response, his usual indifference settling in. Trini rolled her eyes but joined Callum with a resigned sigh. Rosa stood behind Sam, her eyes narrowed and focused, her posture guarded as they all moved toward the hole. Sam, unaware of the silent debate behind her, continued walking forward. She was lost in the music of her own thoughts, the rhythm of her pulse keeping time with the pull that guided her. Her footsteps echoed softly through the space as she neared the hole. The others followed, their steps hesitant at first but gradually growing more determined as they fell into line behind Rosa.
It was then that Sam noticed movement behind her. She turned, surprised to see some of the others—students from her school, a few of the Chicagoans, including the woman cop—had decided to follow. They walked tentatively, unsure, but a few of them looked as though they were ready to trust Sam's instincts. The rest, however, remained seated, glued to their spots, still gripped by an abstract, overwhelming fear of the unknown.
"Let's go, Sam," Rosa called, her voice steady but filled with urgency.
Sam paused, looking back over her shoulder, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "What about them?" she asked, her voice uncertain.
"Forget them," Rosa said coldly, dismissing the concern with a wave of her hand. "We don't have time to worry about the weak." There was no guilt, no regret in her voice, only the grim reality of their situation. Rosa knew that they couldn't afford to hesitate. Their mission was more important than individual fears.
"But..." Sam began to protest.
"Wouldn't it be better if we get out first?" Rosa continued her tone firm. "Then I can request help. It would be a better way to save them." There was a finality in her voice, a subtle assurance that this was the only way forward.
Sam swallowed her hesitation and nodded reluctantly, understanding the gravity of the situation. She turned away from the others and stepped into the tunnel, leading the way as they all followed.
As soon as they entered the cave, the tunnel came alive with an unexpected light—a burning blue flame flickered to life, casting strange shadows across the walls. The light, coming from what appeared to be a series of lamps embedded into the rock, startled everyone. They had not anticipated such illumination in the otherwise dark and foreboding space. Sam, however, seemed undisturbed. She kept her focus on the pull that was drawing her forward, ignoring the flickering lights as they moved deeper into the tunnel. Rosa, on high alert, had already drawn her spear, the weapon ready in her hands as a precaution against any Mystic beasts that might lurk in the shadows. Every step they took seemed to bring them deeper into the unknown. Sam kept singing her song, the same quiet melody that had become a soothing mantra in her life. It was a song her Aunt Stella used to sing to her, a lullaby passed down through generations. Though Sam could never remember the full lyrics, she always found solace in the tune, especially during her darker moments.
"You never told me where you learned that tune," Henry said quietly, his voice carrying just enough for Sam to hear over the echoing sounds of their footsteps. He had heard her sing the song before, during those moments when she was struggling with her inner turmoil. It was always a quiet hum, a gentle comfort to herself when she needed it most. But now, he was hearing it again, in the depths of this strange place, as though it had become a beacon to guide them.
"My Aunt Stella used to sing them to me," Sam replied softly, her voice distant as she recalled the memory. "It's a bedtime nursery rhyme... at least, I think so." Her words trailed off, lost in the vastness of the tunnel as they walked deeper, the song filling the space between them. They walked in silence for a few moments longer, until they came upon something unexpected—a door. The door was large, imposing, and dark blue, unlike the glowing crystals that illuminated the tunnel. It was made of rock, rough and weathered, as if it had been here for ages. The symbol etched onto its surface caught Sam's attention immediately. It resembled an upside-down "T," its top spreading like branches of a tree with leaves, and beneath it, a droplet-shaped loop that encircled the tree. Sam felt a flicker of recognition, as though she had seen this symbol before.
She reached for her sweater sleeves instinctively, pulling them down to reveal a dim birthmark on her right arm. The mark was faint, almost invisible, but now, as she stood before the door, it began to glow. A soft, green light emitted from the mark, radiating outward as the pull behind the door intensified. Sam hesitated, her hand hovering over the symbol. She felt as though the door itself was alive, reacting to her touch, calling her forward. With a deep breath, Sam pressed her right arm against the circle. The symbol on the door flared to life, the green light intensifying. The door began to open, revealing what lay beyond. Sam stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest as the path ahead grew ever clearer.