Three days after the Snow Valley trip, everything at the Gossamer Network felt… different.
Not dramatically so. Nothing exploded. No one screamed. But something under the surface had shifted — like a string had been plucked and the vibration hadn't stopped.
Julian didn't say anything about that night. Not about what he said. Not about the look we exchanged. Not even about Alvin's dramatic sigh echoing in the background like a bad rom-com narrator.
But I felt it. In the way his gaze lingered just a second longer than usual. In the way his instructions during training were a little gentler. In the quiet tension between us that hummed louder than the lights in the ceiling.
And I couldn't lie: I was overanalyzing every breath of it.
Training had gotten more intense. Now, it wasn't just moving objects or deflecting energy. We were entering the part where I had to read thoughts. Open mental doors. Protect myself from mind storms, as Alvin called them.
That morning, Julian greeted me at the Gossamer entrance with a calm, unreadable face. "We're taking training to a more serious level today. Are you ready?"
"I'm always ready," I said, masking my anxiety with a cocky smirk. Inside, I was 90% nerves and 10% bagel from breakfast.
He led me into a new room, one I hadn't seen before — the Echo Chamber.
It was stark white, with glowing hexagonal panels on the walls that pulsed as we stepped inside. The entire room looked like the inside of someone's brain… if their brain had been designed by a minimalist sci-fi set designer.
"This is where we run mind trials," Julian said, standing beside one of the control consoles. "Simulated psychic attacks. Thought-linking. Mental shielding. It's not dangerous, but it can be intense."
I turned slowly, already feeling the weight of the room. "You're saying this like I'm not going to cry or accidentally launch myself into a psychic nosebleed."
He actually smiled. "You probably won't cry."
Wow. Comforting.
Alvin watched from outside the glass wall, holding popcorn. "Go, Queen of Brains!"
"Don't call me that," I called back, trying to hide my laugh.
Julian's voice turned focused. "Okay. Clear your mind."
Easier said than done. The moment I closed my eyes, a thousand thoughts crashed like bumper cars in my skull. Did he remember touching my hand? Did Alvin see that? Was I dreaming? Was this stupid? What if I embarrassed myself—
"Stop," Julian's voice echoed gently. "Let it go. Don't fight the noise. Let it pass like wind."
I exhaled.
And then I felt it.
A gentle tap on my consciousness. Like a soft knock at the door of my thoughts.
Julian? I thought, uncertain.
Yes, his voice answered. Inside my mind.
I shivered.
"You're connected," he said aloud. "Let's go deeper."
And just like that, the world shifted.
Images burst across my mind like lightning: fragments of memories, dreams, feelings that weren't mine. Snow. Running. A boy standing alone in a hallway of shadows. A scream, cut short. A name I didn't recognize—Cassian.
The connection trembled.
"Too deep," Julian said sharply, voice echoing both in my ears and my thoughts. "Pull back, Julia."
But something held on. Not me. Not Julian.
Something else.
A black thread snaked through my mental link, like a parasite trying to slither in.
I flinched. "Julian—something's in here with us!"
His eyes snapped to mine through the mental tether. "I see it. Hold steady."
Then—crack!
The connection snapped, and I was thrown back against the padded wall with a gasp.
My heart thundered. Julian was beside me in seconds.
"Are you okay?" His hands hovered near my shoulders, not touching but grounding me all the same.
I nodded, even as my head buzzed. "What was that?"
Julian looked disturbed. Not panicked—but troubled.
"There's something… or someone… hacking psychic spaces. That wasn't supposed to happen."
Alvin pushed through the door. "I saw the lights spike. That wasn't from her, was it?"
Julian shook his head. "No. It was external. A psychic breach."
"But we're in the Gossamer headquarters," I said, standing shakily. "Isn't this place shielded?"
"It should be," Julian replied, his jaw tight. "But someone just sent a message. A very strong, very illegal one."
I blinked. "You mean like—"
"Like someone is testing how far we'll let our guard down."
I didn't like the sound of that.
Not even a little.
Julian looked at me, and for the first time, there was something close to fear in his eyes.
"We have to find out who's behind this."
⸻
I couldn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flickers of what I'd touched inside the Echo Chamber — shadows moving through a fractured hallway, a scream I couldn't unhear, a black thread snaking through my thoughts like it belonged there.
It wasn't just psychic training anymore. It was war prep. And I didn't even know what side I was on yet.
Julian texted me late that night:
Julian: Be ready tomorrow. We're digging deeper. Bring your pendant.
I stared at the message.
My pendant — the small, circular moonstone necklace I always wore but had never really thought much about — had been a gift from my mother. "Just something to protect you," she'd said once. And now, apparently, it was being promoted to psychic armor.
I barely got three hours of sleep.
By morning, I looked like I had fought a dream-wolf in my sleep and lost. Harley stared at me across the breakfast table. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I muttered, then spilled juice into my cereal.
So. No. I was not okay.
When I arrived at the Gossamer Network headquarters that morning, everything felt on edge. Guards were tighter at the front. Security scans lasted longer. And people — psychics, agents, even kids my age — moved like they were preparing for something.
Something big.
Julian met me at the elevator wearing all black, like a walking metaphor.
"Come on," he said. "We're not training today."
"Oh?" I asked. "Are we knitting psychic sweaters instead?"
He gave me a flat look. "We're going to the Archives."
Oh.
That was worse.
The Archives were hidden beneath Gossamer HQ — a spiraling labyrinth of old psychic history, stored artifacts, surveillance recordings, and things no normal person should ever see. It was where psychic truths went to age — or rot.
Alvin met us at the heavy steel door and flashed his badge. "We're looking for echoes," he told the guard.
The guard raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
Alvin nodded. "Echoes leave fingerprints."
Inside, the Archives were cold and massive, every shelf lined with sealed containers, crystals glowing softly with stored psychic memory, and paper-thin energy screens flickering to life when you walked near.
Julian moved with purpose. "The thing that breached your link yesterday—it wasn't just a fluke. We picked up the same psychic residue near the Southern Branch of the Elders. They found two trackers—both mind-wiped."
Alvin whispered, "Which means someone's targeting psychic locations."
I swallowed. "To do what?"
"To steal something," Julian said. "Or someone."
We stopped at a vault labeled: SC-17: Cassian Reaches.
Cassian. That name again.
Julian placed his hand on the scanner. The door unsealed with a deep click, revealing a series of glowing memory strands — psychic recordings, floating like ribbons of light.
"Who's Cassian?" I asked.
Julian hesitated. "A former student of the Network. My friend. A… brother, kind of He went missing two years ago after a failed mission. But his psychic ID was in your mind yesterday."
My breath caught.
"That scream I heard—was it him?"
Julian nodded slowly. "I think someone's trying to use his mind as a vessel. His power was enormous, unstable… perfect for manipulation if someone figured out how to tether it."
"So what do we do?"
Julian looked at me, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't look like the mysterious guy in control. He looked tired. Human.
"We need you to trace him."
My eyes widened. "Wait, me? But I'm not—I can barely open a soda can with my thoughts without it exploding—"
"You connected with him," Julian said gently. "That matters. That means he might still be in there. Somewhere."
Alvin stepped up. "We're not asking you to go in alone. We'll do it the safe way. You link with the memory. We stabilize. You reach."
I took a breath.
This wasn't like sparring. Or training. This was a mission.
A real one.
"Okay," I said finally. "Let's find him."
⸻
That evening
I sat in the middle of the memory circle, pendant pressed over my heart, a crystal strand of Cassian's energy pulsing softly in my hand.
Julian sat opposite me, focused, his hands glowing faintly blue as he controlled the field around us.
Alvin hovered, monitoring all readings from a console. "Okay, Julia, you're synced. You'll see fragments first. Don't chase anything. Let it come to you."
I nodded, closed my eyes…
…and fell.
Not literally, but it felt like a plunge. A vacuum of time and thought. When I opened my mind, I saw a corridor of flickering lights.
Cassian stood at the end of it. Not quite solid. Not quite real.
He turned, slowly.
"Hello?" I said, my voice echoing strangely.
He looked at me — wide-eyed, as if he were the one surprised. Then he opened his mouth—
—but the scene twisted, warped, and suddenly he wasn't alone.
A woman in a silver coat appeared behind him. Her eyes glowing red. Her hands crackling with energy. She said something I couldn't hear—but Cassian flinched.
Then everything shattered.
I jerked awake with a gasp.
Julian caught me before I collapsed. "What did you see?"
"A woman," I said breathlessly. "She was controlling him. He looked scared. She's holding him somewhere — not just physically, but mentally. She's feeding off him."
Julian looked pale. "Then we're running out of time."