Alexander winced as sunlight washed over him, the glittering city coming into full few as his train careened out of a cliff-side tunnel, catching one of the sunbeams. “Passengers en-route to North Covehunt should be advis—.” Alexander turned up the music in his headphones to drown out the message. He had been hearing it repeated every ten minutes or so since embarking almost four hours ago. He was sure it was going to haunt his dreams for at least a week.

He was temporarily blinded again as the train dipped back into another tunnel, the cabin lights flickering on as they descended into darkness. He could once again see nothing out the window save for his own reflection—a young man of seventeen with fine, vaguely Asian features and long, straight, coal-black hair pulled back into a high ponytail and tied with a red ribbon. His silvery-grey eyes lingered on his own gaze for a moment before focusing on something behind the glass. It was a flicker of something white but it vanished the moment he tried to lock onto it.

Alexander took in a sharp breath and looked away from the haunting darkness to see other people in the car gathering their things as the train began to slow. He unconsciously put his hand to his side to feel his tattered grey messenger bag and backpack still where he had left them. At his feet was a large, battered luggage case with a Canadian flag sticker haphazardly stuck to the side.

As the train trundled to a stop, his phone buzzed and he looked down to see a series of texts come in. The conversation had been a steady stream of back and forth until the train had entered the bedrock tunnels; however, a public relay had been installed within the lower station to make up for the interference. Alexander quickly typed up a reply and sent it before grabbing his luggage and heading out, following the other passengers milling about the station. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry, but Alexander stopped to take in the view at the top of the escalators.

North Covehunt station was an old building, with high vaulted ceilings and ancient Victorian brick-work intertwined with modern brushed steel and glass. One wall sported a hanging carpet of live green plants and a water feature while all of the lights were either recessed moody LEDs or retrofitted cast-brass gas lamps.

Alexander’s mouth opened in awe as a smile touched his lips. “Evan’ll love this,” he said softly to himself, now snapping a few pictures.

By the time he was on his fifth shot of the room, his phone buzzed and he pulled his headphones down to answer it, covering his other ear with his free hand.

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“Hey Evan,” he said breathlessly. “I just got in.”

“Hiya Cookies!” a cheerful voice replied. “How was the trip?”

Alexander smirked softly at his nickname. “Long,” he answered. “You weren’t kidding about the architecture, it’s great.”

“I knew you would like it!” he could practically hear her smiling.

“Look, Evan, I’ve got to go. Someone from the school was supposed to meet me, and I’m already late… because of… things,” he said.

“Things?” she mused melodically as he readjusted his free hand to further drown out a station announcement. “Don’t think I don’t know about that witch warning.”

“Haha…” Alexander laughed nervously, “You don’t need to helicopter me you know.”

“I. Am. Your. Mother.” Evan pointed out teasingly. “I know you didn’t want to worry me. Just, be careful.”

“Fiiine…” Alexander rolled his eyes.

“And don’t roll your eyes!”

“I didn’t!”

He heard her laugh, “I’ll wait for you to call, don’t worry about timezones.”

“You know I will anyways, Evan.”

“Oh you!”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Cya Cookies,” Alexander rolled his eyes again at the nickname, “Don’t roll your eyes!” and with that, she hung up, leaving him shaking his head.

“Seriously, that woman…” he mused with a smile. By now, the station around him had more or less emptied, with only a few stragglers scurrying for the exits.

Alexander glanced over his shoulder at a noise behind him as he slipped his phone into his messenger bag’s pocket. That was when someone slammed into him from the front, nearly knocking him over. Alexander started to turn back to apologize when he was grabbed rather unexpectedly, his arm getting twisted behind his back. “H-hey!”

“Shut your mouth, brat,” a hot voice snarled in his ear, the stranger gripping the scruff of Alexander’s hoodie and twisting.

“L-let go!” Alexander cried out as the man wrenched his arm further back.

“Let the kid go!” a stern voice ordered. Erik approached from the station’s entrance, a large handgun pointed at them. He moved carefully and deliberately, stopping only three or four meters from the two. “Now!” he added firmly.

Alexander’s gaze flicked around the atrium to where he could see two or three other figures hiding behind benches and pillars, guns also at the ready. He winced, his concentration brought back to his assailant as his arm started to burn. At first, he thought it was just a hot grip, but in the few moments the man had been holding him, it had started to prickle uncomfortably and was now in searing pain. “I-it hurts!” he gasped.

“I said shut your mouth!” The man hissed, letting go of Alexander’s hood and bringing his hand around to the boy’s throat. A ball of red-orange fire coalesced at his fingertips. “One more word, and I’ll burn your pretty face to a crisp.”

The station was empty now except for Alexander, the two men, and the three others hiding in the wings. Red and blue police lights flickered through the glass of the exit doors and high windows from outside. Overhead, an automated announcement repeated an evacuation order—an order Alexander had not heard due to his music and phone call. “Oh shiii—,” Alexander breathed.