Five years and I still carried the scar. My fingers pressed against the old wound, tracing the remnants of a painful memory. An ache stuck in my chest, holding my lungs hostage. That moment is past, it's gone. I slowed my breathing, leaning against the tiled wall of the bathroom. The day I died and went to hell.

The dim fluorescent light above the mirror barely illuminated my tired glare. I ran my hands through my hair, forcing myself to breathe. Just get a grip, take a breath. There's no bloodthirsty bird wizards outside...no gold-hearted dreamer to rip from my grasp. There's nothing to be afraid of. My heels scraped the tiles, resting in front of the mirror. I don't know what I'm afraid of... I turned on the tap, sending a wave of water over my face. Water dripped down my chin. Sometimes fear is like that...faceless

The lights reflected off the gold framed mirror, curving around the oval glass. I wonder if it's real? What it would fence for…automatic thoughts of an ex-thief. A gave a little snort, pulling on the sleeves of my cheap red dress. The colour terribly faded, a hole in the sleeve. It's pathetic really. Even this bathroom...shiny counters, fixtures, gold curly cues. They'll spot me from a mile away.

My heart pounded faster, I slammed my fist on the counter. Honestly, get a hold of yourself, Phyn. Walk out into that stupid auditorium, and pretend you belong, because you have to...this is life and death.

The door swung open, a woman walking in. Her hair twisted up on top of her head, gaudy makeup. I stepped back from the sink, brushing down my hair. She turned up her nose as she headed to a stall. Hiding in the bathroom won't solve anything. I clenched my jaw, marching for the door. The ticket bounced in my boot, my insurance plan if security stops me.

I swung the door open, the creak, covered by the hum of the crowd. Bubbling voices, I crossed the shadowdy hall, making my way into the main room. Light poured out of the large floor to ceiling windows, spiralled branches of leaves, blue through the window tint.

Packed full of people, circling a roped off space. At the end of the room stood a throne. The King, rather the Commander, of Avarice slouched back in the grand chair. Everyone strained their necks, eager to catch a glimpse of their nation's leader. I'm more interested in a man with the curved shaped scar behind his ear.

I stood on my tiptoes at the edge of the crowd, fancy gowns and suits blocking my way. I pushed through, ducking around arms. Turning my head, I fought to get a glimpse of heads. All I have to do is find him here...in this sea of people. I stopped, spinning around the room. Easier said than done.

My heart beat pounding heavy, panic quickly setting in. What am I trying to prove? I shut my eyes for a moment, my heartbeat slowing. This isn't my problem, I'm not supposed to be here. One overheard conversation and I think I'm a hero. What I really am is a failed hero.

"Thank you for letting me speak," an ordinary man's voice drawlled. I shot my eyes open, the gaudy hairstyles blocking my view. I growled, pushing past heads. His dull brown haired man crossing my view, he stepped forward with a briefcase. "This is a momentous occasion, the great anniversary of our nation's victory," he said, his movements stiff. "I have served Avarice with pride, given my life to this land."

The room moved on normally. Happy smiles, they peered intently. Something's off. A nagging doubt at the back of my mind. Everything seems normal, am I wrong about this? Their voices were low, it's possible I misheard. I swear they were talking about an assassination. Hushed voices, hiding in the shadows of the customs building. When, where, who, and how much...I missed some of the details, but it's hard to deny what that was.

The speaker waved his arms, droning on about how great Avarice is. Wonder if he'd feel the same way if he spent a night in the slums. The Commander leaned on his elbow, staring dully at the crowd. A stuck bored look, like he cared about nothing in the world.

The Commander yawned, the speaker faltered. "I encourage all of you to take time for reflection, for our day of redemption," he stuttered.

I wormed my way through the crowd, fighting angry glares. The brown haired man straightened his tailored suit, hand tight around the briefcase handle. Painfully ordinary, as average as it gets….expect...a curved shaped scar behind his ear.

My heart stopped, footsteps slowed. He's the assassin? The man in the middle of the room is the assassin...this is terrible, awful.

"I have a gift." The speaker bowed his head. Guards positioned around the Commander; alert, but unconcerned. The man lifted his briefcase. They're not going to notice in time. He clicked open the case, each buckle. This is it.

The case flew open, papers flying. Floating down, they scattered across the floor. The speaker's face grew red, the room snickering. "So sorry-" the man stuttered. The room erupted in civilized laughter. I pushed forward to the rope, holding my breath. This is no accident, he knows what he's doing.

Hesitating at the rope, I bit my lip. Someone else notice, please. I rubbed the back of my neck. He moved for the briefcase, reaching inside. I hissed a curse, jumping the rope. All eyes on me as I stepped out into the ring. Guards latched onto their weapons, moving in. This isn't working. I froze in place. The gleam of metal in the speaker's hand. He has a gun.

"He's got a gun!" I shouted madly, pointing at the assassin. Bolting to the center, guards shouted after me. The room filling with gasps, heads turned in confusion.

Dropping the case, it rattled on the floor. The assassin raised the gun, pointing it at the Commander. His hands shaking, he steadied his grip. "I sacrificed everything, everything...and it's a lie...it's all a lie."

The Commander's eyes emotionless, apathetic as he stared down death. The air was thick with tension, everyone holding their breath. I won't make it in time. Running for the assassin, I found the rhythm. Jumping the distance between us, I grabbed a hold of him, barrelling towards the floor. I latched back onto the pulse.

We hit the floor, sliding. Grey walls blurred in an empty hallway. The assassin fought against my grasp, shoving a fist in my face. I let go, he scurried away. Turning as I stumbled to my feet. The man's eyes wide in horror, sweat dripping down his forehead. The gun in his hand, he turned it in my direction. "What are you? What did you do to me?"

My mouth was stuck shut. I shook my head, backing up. He's going to shoot me.

The assassin steadied his weapon, his trigger finger itching with a decision. He shouted, "I had him! You don't understand what you've done!" My foot slipped, my legs giving way. The world slowed, fading out, as I hit the ground.

I got away. I lifted my head, panicked gasps filling the air. Oh no. In the middle of the auditorium, the whole crowd around me. I brushed the hair out of my face, confusion on every side. Shock turned to murmuring, "Will she hurt us? What is she? Is it even human?"

I turned around, the Commander's eyes locked dead on me. One blue and one green, an unusual thing. Burning curiosity behind his gaze. The guards gearing up, hushed whispers, moving orders. I need to get out of here, they're coming for me. The crowds bubbling with confusion, I shut my eyes. My memory rested on a familiar place, letting my heartbeat take over.

I landed in a heap on the floor, heart pounding heavy in my chest. What have I done? I fell back to the floor, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. I just ruined my life. The light was low, my blinds drawn in my dusty little apartment. They know about me now, about teleporting. All these years of being careful, hiding in the shadows, up in smoke.

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I don't know what they'll do to me. I sat up, fighting shivers. I need to run, get out of here. This is dangerous. Hunching my shoulders, I pulled my arms close. But where will I go? I buried my head in my knees. I thought starting over was hard before, but now...five hundred years in the future, it feels impossible.

Light streamed in from my window, it shone on the crumpled sketch on my desk. Ink marks scrawled to form the picture of Broc's cabin. I lifted my head, smiling at the memento. Luca's drawing was stuffed in his jacket pocket, the jacket I was wearing that day. My chest grew tight, tears welling up. The only thing I have left… I lost the jacket almost immediately, quality leather like that draws out thugs, especially in winter. So naive. I chuckled to myself, standing up.

Brushing off my red dress, I walked out towards the living room. The TV hummed with a newscaster, her voice quiet, even toned. All about the new ration rules, how to earn extra stamps. What it really means is more people will be buying blackmarket. I rolled my eyes. Drake's going to have a field day.

I leaned on my couch, picking at the tattered floral print. Get to the event, stop talking about food stamps. I need to know if my face is out there. The newscaster's eyes brightened. Pictures of the parade, the auditorium, crowds of people...here it comes. More cheery pictures, balloons, banners...they didn't mention it...not at all.

I moved away from the television, a slight uneasiness in my stomach. It's probably too soon to be on the news. Pulling my jacket from the chair, I slipped on the sleeves. Least I still have time. Scampering past my kitchen, an empty coffee cup left on the counter. Toast crumbs, abandoned on the table. Time to figure out a plan.

I creaked open the front door, shutting it behind me. Following along the railing, I tiptoed past my land lady's door. The blinds moved, her beady eyes watching me. Creepy. I smiled, waving at her. She stepped back, her ear to the phone. Nosy old crow, but she let me rent without proper identification. A kindness that made her watchful eye easy enough to forgive.

Stomping down the stairs, the metal stairs clanked in response. I jumped the last step. Black and white checkered floors, discoloured with age. Crossing the musty lobby, I broke through the large double doors.

Out into the open air, grey skies stretched out, hiding the last patch of blue sky. Grey, everything's always grey. Streets, sidewalks, skyscrapers; all the same dull color. I shivered as I started down the sidewalk.

The Commander's eyes haunted my mind…that curiosity. Curiosity is unpredictable...dangerous. I don't want to end up dissected in some secret government lab. I need to run away...that's the best option. I can see if Drake will help me? I pulled the ticket from my boot, the corner folded down. I already hounded him for this...I don't need to owe him more.

Rounding the corner, a red brick wall clashed with the grey. A homeless man slumped against the wall. Half passed out, a horse snore came from his lungs. I frowned, slowing my steps. He shouldn't be this far into town...if the guards find him here. I paced back. "Hey, wake up." I crouched beside him, the smell turning my stomach."Sir...you should go," I said. He opened his eyes, a shadowy gaze following mine. I took a breath. "It's not safe to sleep here, you should know that."

A smile cracked on his lips. "Pretty...Lady…" he slurred out a drunken melody, fingers reaching after me.

I stepped back, tightening my frown. "I'm being serious. Unless you want guards throwing you back in the pit." I pointed to the city wall, dividing the slums to the outer reaches.

He stumbled to his feet, tripping as he stepped. "There's...something about you...something different."

"I'm not interested, buddy." I raised my hands, backing up. "I'm just giving you advice." I don't need this escalating.

Clumsy footsteps, he followed me. "They're all...withering, dead, dying, but not you..." His eyes brightened, staring up in awe. "You're vibrant...alive."

Weird compliment. I scratched my head. "Alrighty, then," I said, ducking around his arm. "Goodbye." Stomping down the street, I looked over my shoulder. He followed after me, waking with shaky steps. Shoot.

"Come...back...," he blubbered. A sad sort of desperation. Walking along the wall, he stumbled. "You...don't belong."

He's right I don't. I ran towards the alleyway, a drop of rain hitting my cheek. But that doesn't matter. The world keeps moving regardless. That's just how it is, nothing I do changes that.

Everyone I love is dead. The ache in my chest tore up my heart. I took a gasp of air, hiding in the shadows of the alleyway. I backed deeper in, my hands shaking. Keep breathing, always breathing... I shut my eyes, leaning against the wall. I'm never going back, I can never fix things...the least I can do is breathe. Fingers on my wrist, a faint heartbeat tapped along. Luca would want me to breathe.

A dark van parked across the street, I craned my neck towards the opening. Wait...what? I stepped closer, squinting. None of the neighbors drive something like that...it's the kind government workers use. Footsteps shuffled closer, a shadow crossing the path. I scattered back. Shoot. I latched onto the rhythm, the alley vanishing.

Is that car here for me? I stood back in my bedroom, wringing my hands in my hair. Could they have found me this fast? I paced to the doorway, freezing in place. Muted voices, heavy footsteps. I'm not alone.

Two or three others, they paced, shuffling through my stuff. Plain black uniforms, no logos, names. "When do you think she'll be back?" the younger man asked. Pale, lanky, but bright eyed. He scratched his chin, pulling open the drawers of my cabinet.

"I don't know, Murray told us to wait till she does. "A stockier, middle-aged man walked past.

An auburn haired woman leaned against the wall. She picked at her nails, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. "The landlady said she just went out, so it might be a while."

The young man sighed, throwing his hands up. "He always leaves us with the tedious jobs."

"Ya...because he's in charge. That's how it works," the woman snickered.

He slammed the drawer shut. "Still this is a waste of my talents."

The older man huffed, "Are you going to give us another speech about your superior intellect?"

He flicked his head around. "That's not what I meant...I-" He crossed his arms. "I think this is a waste of all our abilities, not just mine."

"Ya, sure," the older man grumbled, moving back towards the door. I inched away, sweeping my gaze across my room. I need to get them out of here. Grab as much stuff as I can and run.

The small blink of a light on the ceiling, I jumped. The smoke detector, yes! I turned to my desk, shoving stuff aside. I pulled my lighter from the scattered papers. A fist full of paper, I folded it in half. Hopefully this works. I flicked lighter, a steady flame licking the paper.

"I'm gonna need you to put that down," a gruff voice said, my heart rate skyrocketing. Throwing the lit pages, fire floated down towards the floor. Oh no.

"I didn't mean it literally!" the man roared, slipping out of the shadows. The flames jumped up. He ripped the blanket off my bed, throwing over the fire. Stamping it out, I joined in beating the blanket. Now where did he come from? The smell of burnt fabric saturated the room.

I coughed, frowning at the stranger. "You shouldn't sneak up on someone with an open flame!" I growled, pulling back my badly singed blanket.

"Well...sorry." He scratched his head, stepping back from the burnt spot of the floor. The sound footsteps stomping closer, I turned my head. They've got me. I rushed towards the desk, reaching for the drawing.

"Wait!" The strange man yelped, hand raised. Desperation across his face. Frozen, my hand inches from Luca's drawing. I'm so close. I stayed stiff. Locked in place by dangerous curiosity. Grab it and go, don't wait to find out what this is. It's not worth it!

"Murray?" The older man said, stopping in place. I whipped my head around. The strange man straightened his dark gray cloak. So he's the one in charge. The stocky man scratched his head, stalling in the doorway. "I thought-"

He clenched his jaw. "I know. I-"

"So what's going on?" The woman crossed her arms, leaning in the doorway.

I threw my hands up. "How about you tell me that," I hissed, "You're in my apartment."

The young guy poked his head over her shoulder. "How did she get past us?" he mumbled. Murrary rolled his eyes. So he knows, but they don't?

I moved my eyes back to the picture, inching closer. Murray stepped between me and the desk. "We're not going to hurt you. In fact we want to thank you," he said, voice hurried. "You saved the Commander's life."

What do I do? I darted my eyes between them. It makes no sense to trust them. I glared at Murray. "Ya and so what?"

His soldier's jaws dropped. His expression steady, a scar above his eyebrow. Something cold in those eyes, a weight like Emery's. "So what..." Murray turned, pacing. "Well, we're in the middle of a war and we could use someone like you."

"Someone like me…" I muttered. This is about my gifting. They want to use my power. I crossed my arms, meeting him dead in the eye. "I'm not interested."