NESS
Before I leave the illusion’s perimeter, I morph into a white man so no one will bother me. Every step away from Nova is terrifying, but I don’t let that show. I maintain this guise that I’m someone with a great life who’s simply out for a late-night stroll. No one will suspect this man is thinking about fleeing to the Dominican Republic where his mother was born, so he can connect with roots that the Senator didn’t encourage growing up. To get far away from everyone who ruined his life in this city.
Maybe when I’m older and the world has completely forgotten me, I can exist in the world again without a morph. Some people I pass on the street may question why I look so familiar, but no one is going to make the connection that I’m that kid they believed died in the Blackout.
I’m about to ask someone for directions when sirens approach. Cars clear a path, and enforcer tanks speed past me. They park, and a young man steps out. He pokes at the air with a glowing hand before yanking his entire arm back, like someone pulling a tablecloth out from underneath a dinner setting. There’s a massive flash that funnels away, and I can see everything—the empty gas station, and ahead, Nova.
The celestial broke the illusion.
The tanks speed toward the school, and I don’t understand how celestials can turn their back on their own kind. But who am I if I turn my back on Emil and the Spell Walkers when they may need me the most?