I stare at my hand, desperately clawing with my mind for the information I know is hiding from me. I had something in this hand; it’s why I came here today; it’s what Sydney, Roosevelt, and I worked on last night. Something took this item from me—both its physical form and all the memories I have of it. I grasp at it, my ego pulling on the line of thought despite the world around me trying to pry it away from me.

An anger at being denied that which is intrinsically mine begins to course through me, hot fury blinding me to everything except the scraps of knowledge tying me to what’s mine. My gaze is fixed to my outstretched hand, and though my eyes water and burn, I refuse to blink.

Something catches—a sharp corner of myself hooking onto what I seek, and I grab it, pulling fist over fist until I can tell it's just beyond me.

CRUNCH.

My mind goes through a sensation strikingly similar to stepping on a patch of thin ice with a heavy boot; the crunch and spreading cracks leaking liquid euphoria into me. I close my eyes, no longer worried about forgetting the note anymore. The memory is mine, and can’t ever be taken away again.

I look to my left, Naomi—no longer hidden—clutches the note with pale fingers, her nails having poked through the paper at several points. Her eyes are wide with fear and vulnerability, and widen further still when they lock with mine. She must have thought she was still hidden from me, but I—

“Brooke, you need to take a step back. You’re riding an Insight high right now.”

I blink, my concentration fading. I hardly need to do anything, I’m within my rights to do... No, I need to calm down. I close my eyes and cycle between inhaling through my nose and exhaling out of my mouth. The familiar cycle restores my normal state of mind, and I feel the tendrils I hadn’t noticed my hair forming into dissipate.

My body stumbles against the wall when I open my eyes again, everything about the world around me seeming just slightly off compared to before. Roosevelt’s form blips into existence, his tentacles briefly touching me before he turns to speak to Naomi.

“You’ll have to forgive her, Vanguard Shroud. Her intent was not to scare you; this was simply her first time experiencing an Insight and it seems she’s slightly more susceptible to the madness therein.”

The younger girl looks entirely too close to just sprinting to her room and closing the door behind her, but instead she gives me a long look before nodding slowly to Roosevelt.

“Ah, uhm, congratulations on rank fourteen, I guess.” She says softly, before turning her body to leave.

“Wait. Please.” I manage, still figuring out how to walk straight. It feels like some vital law of existence is gone, but I have no idea what it was or what exactly is different because of it. “Can we talk?”

She desperately does not want to talk; in fact, I’m pretty sure I sense her flaring her chthonic energy to try and disappear again. She looks almost hopeful as she slinks backwards, but pales when my gaze continues to follow her.

“...We shouldn’t,” she pleads.

“I need some type of answer, Naomi. My best friend is sitting in the lobby, panicking because I’ve been given a letter that may or may not prophesy my death. I’m not willing to go back down there and tell her that I have no answers despite finding you.” My movements are starting to feel natural, but a bit of wooziness remains.

”I’m sorry, but telling you anything is a really bad idea. The information I have is limited, but even us just talking about it like this makes me feel like things are worse. Anything I do has the potential to make things way worse for everyone involved. I’m stuck Brooke, I have the ability to tell when something is going to happen but no way to do anything about it. The literal only thing I thought about that didn’t trigger my power was giving you that vague-ass note!”

Uncertainty gnaws at me, and my confidence in confronting her like this starts to wane. She’s clearly trying her best despite the circumstances being as bad as they are, but how can I stop? My life, and the lives of the people around me are in danger, and I’m supposed to give up my chance at finding out what’s endangering them?

I flop against the wall, sliding down it until I can rest my head against my knees. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if me pushing too hard made the situation worse either.

“This doesn’t feel very fair.” I state pointlessly, my words muffled by my legs.

I hear the sliding of cloth next to me as she joins me in knee-hugging. Her sigh is long and pained before she replies, just as pointlessly.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“No, it really doesn’t.”

My laugh is humorless as I roll my head to the right so I can look at her. Dampness leaves a reflective sheen on her cheeks, and her eyes are red and irritated. Why do I feel like the majority of my time as a Vanguard has been spent crying or watching other people cry?

“I’m really not sure what to do from here; my next course of action was to tell Catherine, but I’m not even sure if that’s a good idea anymore.”

Fear grips her features for a moment when I mention Catherine, and she blurts out a “No!” Immediately. “We can’t tell the Director; any scenario where I tell her or let anyone else tell her about what I’m seeing ends with more people dying or getting hurt.” She seems to almost gasp in pain as she says it, but I can’t help but focus on the last part of her comment.

“What do you mean by ‘more people,’ Naomi? Are people already going to die?” I demand, placing my hand on her shoulder.

She doesn’t respond; her face red, and her body convulsing.

“Brooke, she’s having a reaction from her ability; whatever cost she was supposed to pay for saying that is beyond her. You need to take her up one floor to the emergency rooms; I’ve already called Catherine.”

Before he’s even finished saying “cost” I’ve picked her up, my tentacles wrapping around her limbs and head so she can’t injure herself during the seizure. My outfit forms around me as I run, the black coursing over me like a living liquid this time.

I leap over the entire set of stairs, more of my tentacles lashing out and pushing against the floor to prevent most of the impact as I land. I do the same for the next flight, my tentacles a subconscious mass, guiding me smoothly to the room I remember staying in. A hole in the roof opens ahead of me, and I watch Cathering crash onto the ground next to the hospital room, her legs alien and springy, likely to help brace her fall.

The wall slides open ahead of me, and I fly in, resting Naomi on the cloud bed I used no more than three days ago. Catherine runs in after me, her hands on the sides of Naomi’s head as I hold her still.

“Cause and Symptoms.” She barks, green energy coursing through her arms, her fingers splitting and extending to touch other parts of the girl.

Roosevelt speaks before I have the chance, so I just do what I can to get out of the way as much as possible while holding her still.

“Ability-based rejection, foresight ability required some type of payment. Symptoms include immense pain, mental strain, and full body seizing.”

“Damn it, this is why psychic class are such a pain, they can’t tell you what's going on until they’re halfway done killing themselves.” She curses, the flesh of her arms beginning to smoke.

The door opens again, and three individuals in full body suits enter the room, dragging machines in behind them. Their motions are swift but careful as they surround Naomi, attaching the machines to her with needles and tubes. I turn as one of them walks over to me, putting their hand on my shoulder. It’s Merideth, the woman from my ascension, and she gently motions to pull my tentacles away as she attaches a brace to Naomi’s body to keep her still.

I find myself shooed out of the room, my part of the procedure already done. Feeling rather numb but remembering that Sydney asked me to message her, I send her what I can manage before clicking it back off.

“Found Naomi and pressured her too much. I made her powers hurt her, and now she’s in surgery.”

Roosevelt’s consolations bounce off me, and I don’t even look up until I see a pair of feet and torn pant legs standing in front of me. Catherine looks ragged, and smells like burnt meat. Her feet and hands are back to normal, but the same jagged lightning scars she had during my ascension line her arms and reach up past the collar of her shirt.

“C’mon inside,” she says hoarsely, her voice sounding as ragged as the rest of her.

I follow her inside, walking up to Naomi’s lightly breathing form. She’s sleeping, and several floating objects rotate around her, beams of light emitting from them as they scan her.

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask to no one in particular, not even sure I want an answer.

“Her vital signs are all fine, though when it comes to psychic class Vanguards, you never really know what's going on; we can only see the physical side of things after all.” The other lady assistant responds, though I can’t remember her name right now.

Catherine returns, though her arms are scar-free. I still see some burns under her neck, but her voice is clear as she speaks: “She’ll be fine; the kid made it to rank eleven before her sixteenth birthday. She’s made of tougher stuff than most.”

I choose to let that be true, because otherwise I’m not sure what I’d do right now. I watch Catherine nod to her assistants, and they file out of the room quickly.

“Did we at least get any good information for this?” She asks, not looking away from the young girl in the bed.

I grimace, not willing to let my slip up cause her even more problems. “None, sorry.” I lie, though I’m sure she’s well aware.

Her grunt is telling, though she doesn’t ask anymore questions, instead steering me out of the room. “Since you’re still in your ascendant form, let's head to my lab. There are a few tests I want to run, and a couple more we’ve already found out.”

A bit of shock runs through me as I look down, not even realizing I hadn’t changed back into my normal clothes. I tighten one of my gloved hands into a fist, feeling weak despite the incredible strength I feel myself using.

Is this what being a Vanguard is?