I blinked into the light—harsh, too harsh. My head pounded, my hands were cold, and the air smelled faintly of mint and static. I was lying on a cushioned recliner in the Gossamer Network's medical bay, with Julian leaning over me like a worried… very hot… nurse. Focus, Julia.
"She's waking up," he said, his voice oddly quiet and tense.
"Holy cosmic nosebleeds, what the hell happened?" I mumbled as I sat up slowly, the room tilting a little. Alvin was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, biting his thumbnail nervously.
"You passed out after the memory trace," Julian said. "Cassian's mind was… too much."
"No kidding," I muttered, massaging my temples. "It was like I was being punched in the brain with thoughts."
Julian knelt beside me, his tone suddenly softer. "You shouldn't have seen that memory. It was one of the fractured ones. Dangerous and unstable."
"I didn't do it on purpose," I snapped, then winced. "Sorry. It just sort of… pulled me in. Like Cassian wanted me to see it."
Alvin exchanged a quick glance with Julian. "That shouldn't be possible unless you're psychically synced. Which is… extremely rare. Like one-in-a-million rare."
"Oh," I said dumbly. "Cool. I guess I'm one in a million."
Julian looked away, his jaw clenched like he was doing math he didn't like. "It's more complicated than that."
Of course it was.
I glanced down at the psychic thread still wrapped around my wrist, pulsing faintly. "What does this mean? That Cassian's trying to reach me?"
"Not just trying," Alvin said. "He already has. He left a message in your mind."
"A message?" I rubbed my temples again. "Is that why my brain feels like someone shoved an entire season of a thriller series into it with no warning?"
Julian reached over, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from my forehead, and I forgot how to function for a second. "You need rest. Your psychic pathways are overloaded."
"Rest?" I snorted. "Cassian is out there trapped, apparently begging for help, and you want me to nap?"
"We're not ignoring it," Julian said, firm again. "But rushing in half-fried won't help him. Or you."
I hated that he was right. Worse, I hated that I kind of wanted to do exactly what he said because of how he said it.
I pushed myself off the recliner and stretched. "So what now? Do I get a sparkly badge for surviving that brain-melting memory?"
Alvin chuckled. "No badge. But you do get upgraded access to the Network archives. You've seen something important. That makes you important."
That sounded ominous.
Julian nodded toward the exit. "Let's walk. There's something I want to show you."
We walked down a curved glass hallway, the moonlight casting shifting patterns on the floor through frosted panels. It was quiet, too quiet, and something about it made my pulse thrum nervously.
"Where are we going?" I asked as we reached a door etched with old psychic runes.
"To the Rift Chamber," Julian said. "It's where we keep records of missing or unstable psychics. Cassian's name was removed from this list three months ago—someone erased his file."
My stomach flipped. "Why?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
The door hissed open, revealing a circular room with memory orbs hovering midair, rotating like little planets around a glowing pillar of psychic energy. It was beautiful—and creepy.
Julian motioned for me to follow. "If Cassian left something in your head, we might be able to extract and analyze it using the resonance scanner. It won't hurt, I promise."
"Last time someone said that, I ended up unconscious with a brain migraine."
He smirked. "You survived. That's saying something."
He activated the scanner, and the orb floated toward me. As it scanned my mental signature, a projection emerged midair—Cassian's image, eyes wide with fear.
"I don't have long," the projection said. "They're hiding something. Not just about me—about the whole generation of us who were born with the Echo Gene. You have to find Julia. She's the key."
I stood frozen.
Julian stared at the projection like he'd seen a ghost. "The Echo Gene? That's… not possible."
"What's the Echo Gene?" I asked, already knowing the answer would wreck my day.
Julian turned to me, something flickering in his eyes—something like awe and dread all rolled into one. "It's a rare genetic marker in psychics. It allows the bearer to not just use psychic powers, but to amplify them in others. To resonate with any psychic ability, like a mirror—"
"—or an echo," I finished quietly.
He nodded. "You're not just psychic, Julia. You're an Echo."
I backed away a step, panic curling through me. "No. That's not… I didn't sign up for this. I just wanted to survive high school. And maybe flirt occasionally."
Alvin looked like he was watching a blockbuster unfold. "This is way beyond high school now."
Julian stepped toward me, reaching for my hand. I let him take it, even though my brain was screaming. "You're not alone, Julia. And whether you're ready or not… this is your story too."
The projection flickered again, then vanished. The room felt colder.
And in that moment, I knew two things for certain.
Cassian was alive.
And my life was about to become even more chaotic than I'd ever imagined.
⸻
It had been two days since I found out I was an Echo.
An Echo.
I still wasn't used to the word—wasn't sure if I liked it or if it sounded like some kind of weird backup singer. Either way, it turned out to mean I had the ability to amplify the psychic powers of those around me. I was like a walking, talking energy megaphone. Which explained why Julian looked like he was on a Red Bull-fueled power trip every time we trained together.
Julian had barely let me out of his sight since the discovery. Between our accelerated training sessions, scheduled meditation drills, and briefings at the Gossamer Network HQ, I was exhausted and ready to launch myself into a weeklong nap. But apparently, being a psychic battery came with major time commitments.
Also? Everyone at the Network was now acting like I was some sort of golden goose.
"You're basically a game-changer," Alvin had whispered to me during a break in training. "People like you? Super rare. Like, black unicorn rare."
"Cool," I'd muttered, chewing on an energy bar and trying to ignore the dozen people watching me like I might start glowing again at any second.
But today was supposed to be normal. I was going to school, surviving the morning, pretending like I didn't just learn the psychic version of being a chosen one, and maybe—just maybe—having lunch with Jake and Kim without someone asking me to amplify their telepathy to spy on their ex.
Spoiler alert: I didn't get my normal day.
Instead, I got this.
I stood at the edge of the Network's east training wing, heart pounding as Julian, across from me on the mat, raised an eyebrow in that annoyingly superior way of his.
"Again," he said coolly.
"I'm going to collapse," I groaned, staggering slightly.
He walked over, gently placing a hand on my shoulder, and suddenly the fatigue seemed to melt off me like butter in the sun. His proximity was doing that thing again—supercharging both of us. I hated that I liked it.
"You're doing great," he said. "But you're holding back."
"I'm trying not to break anything," I muttered, glancing toward the row of half-shattered training dummies lining the wall.
He smirked. "Break something. That's the whole point."
He stepped back again and flicked his hand. The air shimmered, and a full-body illusion of some armored, nightmarish creature appeared—fanged, roaring, totally fake and still very alarming. I knew it wasn't real. My body didn't.
"Julian!"
"You've got to focus under pressure," he called out calmly. "Use the echo, Julia."
Easy for him to say—he could literally bend space and time like it was a game of Tetris.
I closed my eyes, concentrated on my own energy, then pushed outward. I thought of Julian. Of our training. Of the moment he told me we were the same. Something snapped inside me—not a break, more like a lock clicking open.
The air around me vibrated.
Julian straightened. "That's it."
I opened my eyes.
The illusion in front of me glitched and shattered apart like shards of glass falling upward.
"What did I just do?" I asked breathlessly.
Julian stared at me for a beat too long, like he was trying to figure out how I just did that without any formal illusion training.
"You destabilized my construct," he said softly. "That's not normal Echo behavior."
I blinked. "That wasn't just me amping you up?"
He shook his head. "No. That was something else."
We stood there in the quiet, both a little stunned. The room suddenly felt ten degrees warmer. He took a step forward, hesitated, then reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face.
"Julia," he said, and it wasn't his usual mentor voice. It was softer. "You're not just an Echo. There's something else in you. Something… ancient."
I snorted nervously. "Cool. So I'm a haunted Echo."
He smiled faintly. "You joke too much when you're nervous."
"And you don't joke enough."
We were inches apart now. His hand was still near my face, and I could feel the buzz of our energies tangling together, pulling us closer. This wasn't just psychic chemistry—it was actual, genuine, emotionally-charged something.
"Julian," I said, my voice low.
He leaned in just slightly, barely brushing his forehead against mine. "We shouldn't."
"Shouldn't what?" I whispered.
His lips twitched. "You know what."
My heart was pounding so hard I was pretty sure it could be heard by people in the next training room.
But then—of course—the moment was shattered by Alvin bursting in with a folder in hand, tripping over the threshold and nearly face-planting into a mat.
"Sorry!" he yelped. "Sorry, sorry, sorry—I didn't know you two were—uh—communing!"
I leapt back so fast you'd think Julian had turned into a fireball. "We were not communing!"
Julian just sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and muttered, "Timing, Alvin."
Alvin looked between us, smirked, and handed Julian the folder. "Update on Cassian. You'll want to see this."
The name snapped me out of whatever near-kiss daze I was in.
Cassian. The missing psychic. The mystery we still hadn't solved.
Julian scanned the file quickly, his expression darkening.
"Looks like we have a trail," he said. "But it's… unstable."
"Unstable how?" I asked.
"Someone's been wiping psychic traces," Julian said. "But not fast enough."
My stomach flipped.
"Are we going after him?" I asked.
Julian's eyes met mine.
"Soon," he said. "But first, you and I have some unfinished training."
Alvin coughed pointedly. "Should I bring more water bottles or chaperones?"
I threw a mat at him. He ducked.
But even as I laughed, my brain was spinning.
If I could break illusions… if I could amplify and destabilize other psychics' powers…
What else could I do?
And more importantly—who exactly was I?