“I refused to deliver my notes st night,” Natsuki muttered, tapping her pen against the rim of her mug. “I’m not wandering across Ancaster in the dark with all these attacks happening.”

  Macaria blinked. “He actually asked you to meet at night? That’s insane. What was he thinking?”

  Natsuki shrugged, exasperation flickering in her eyes. “Maybe he thinks he’s invincible. I would've emailed him, but half the city’s internet is down thanks to the outage.”

  Macaria gnced out the café window. The Ancaster skyline—usually a sea of light—was dim and fractured, a scattering of faint isnds in the dark. The café was one of the few pces with power left. It had become a quiet sanctuary, humming with warmth while the city unraveled outside.

  “I hope the grid stabilizes soon,” she groaned, burying her face in her arms. “I’m halfway through Witches of Warcry. It’s about to disappear from Stream It.”

  Natsuki snorted, brushing a lock of pink hair behind her ear. “You should’ve pnned ahead with a backup battery.”

  “Not all of us are walking Tes coils,” Macaria said, gesturing at the soft flicker of static dancing across Natsuki’s fingers. As an unknown, Natsuki was gifted with elemental electricity. Macaria, like most of the popution, was ordinary—powerless.

  “Perks of being a human generator,” Natsuki murmured. Her tone was proud, but tired. She pulled out a sky-blue hairbrush, its bristles buzzing faintly with static. “Want a charge? Complimentary.”

  Macaria smiled faintly, though her voice dipped. “You think I don’t envy that? Most of us don’t have what you do.”

  Natsuki’s smile faded.

  “You think I like this?” she said sharply. Sparks crackled. “Every time the lights flicker, people look at me like I’m the problem. Like I’m going to explode.”

  Her fingers trembled. Static buzzed around her mug. “This city either fears us or uses us. There’s no in-between.”

  Macaria sat up, watching how the electricity danced around her friend. It didn’t look like power. It looked like pressure, barely held together.

  “At least you have something,” she whispered. “I’m just… here.”

  Natsuki didn’t respond right away. When she did, her voice was thin.

  “Sometimes I wish I didn’t.”

  The café door chimed. A warm gust of air swept in.

  A tall figure entered, the dull glow catching on his pale green hair. Familiar, though Macaria couldn’t pce him.

  Natsuki turned. Her body stiffened. “Oh, great,” she said dryly. “Klein.”

  The man spotted them and grinned. “Natsuki. Still hiding in cafés when you're falling behind?”

  She stood slowly, tone cool and sharp. “Do you think talking to me is going to make me fall behind? You must be desperate.”

  The tension snapped like a wire. Macaria shifted uncomfortably.

  Behind the counter, a blond barista paused mid-wipe. He wore sharp bck gsses and watched the exchange silently. His gaze brushed over Macaria—cold, unreadable, intense enough to make her heart flutter.

  Klein scoffed. “Electricity and attitude? That’s your whole act?”

  Natsuki raised a hand. Sparks bloomed into a glowing orb above her palm. “Better than wind and ego.”

  Wind curled around Klein’s fingers, sweeping up napkins like leaves. Electricity fred in response.

  Macaria shot to her feet. “Stop it. Both of you!”

  The elemental pressure crushed in, but she stepped between them, heart pounding. “This is not the pce.”

  The orb glowed brighter. Wind rattled the ceiling tiles.

  Then—motion.

  Simon vaulted over the counter in a fsh of blue-purple light. In an instant, his arm was around Macaria’s waist, pulling her aside with practiced ease.

  Tick.

  Time shattered.

  A sound like a clock breaking echoed. Floating Roman numerals appeared, suspended mid-air in a glowing ring.

  Klein and Natsuki froze—powers mid-cast, unmoving.

  Simon released Macaria gently. His orange eyes burned like molten gold.

  “Enough,” he said. The word struck like a bde.

  The magic dissolved. The café unfroze.

  Natsuki’s orb vanished with a frustrated pop. Klein’s wind scattered.

  “I don’t care who started it,” Simon said, voice cold as steel. “This is not your arena.”

  Normalcy returned in slow waves—conversation, clinking dishes—but the air remained tense.

  Simon turned to Macaria. “Are you alright?”

  “I... I think so.”

  “Good.” He nodded, hand touching his temple. “Time shift takes a toll.”

  He staggered, then disappeared behind the counter.

  A woman with lic hair leaned over the register. “He’s fine. Switching time states too fast makes him dizzy. Happens.”

  Macaria nodded, still rattled.

  As she gathered her things, she noticed Natsuki’s bag missing. She looked out the window—Klein and Natsuki stood outside, the tension gone. She stepped to the counter to thank the girl—but no one was there.

  Strange.

  She packed up quickly. The bell chimed as she stepped out.

  Natsuki turned. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” Klein added. “That wasn’t me.”

  Macaria gave a tired smile. “We’re not banned... yet.”

  Klein chuckled. “Give it time.”

  “Say that again and I’ll light your shoeces on fire,” Natsuki muttered.

  He backed away with hands raised. “I’ll vanish before I become a headline.”

  As he disappeared down the block, the streetmps flickered to life one by one, painting the sidewalk in orange glow.

  Macaria bent to retrieve her jacket. “You don’t have to walk me home.”

  “You sure?” Natsuki asked softly.

  “I’ve got this.” Macaria showed her pocketknife. “Small, but feisty.”

  Natsuki sighed. “Fine. But text me the moment you’re home. Anything weird—call me. No matter how te.”

  Macaria nodded and disappeared into the crowd.

  Natsuki watched her go, unease prickling her skin like a storm coming.

  Then, slowly, she turned and walked into the night.