The boulder cracked as chunks of it were crushed to gravel. It wasn't all the way through, but I was curious. I gripped the edges and pulled, to no avail but that wasn't too surprising. It hadn't worked any other time I tried to rely on strength. I stuck my hands in and slowly pushed them forward, thinking pointedly the same. The rock split with a crash and I huffed triumphantly, standing upright. I wiped a bit of sweat from my brow and set my hands on my hips.

It wasn't super strength but damn my field, my projection really, could do crazy things. It was displacing things, more than actually holding them or whatever. That was why I couldn't lift things normally, it didn't quite work like that. But getting my field under it then moving it up, well, stuff couldn't pass through it so it had to move up.

The weird part about it was the feeling. Despite having a barrier between me and the world, I could still feel things almost like normal. Obviously it stopped some damage, Leviathan's echo certainly, but also while crushing rock or wood. I still didn't know the limits, but over the past two days working with it, it had yet to crack.

So some, definitely long-term durability. How that stood up to single, big strikes was still unclear, and I wasn't exactly eager to drop a boulder on my head. It would have to wait, unfortunately...not that I really had any more time to wait. I turned and gazed out at the ocean from my vantage point, the night sky rapidly creeping in.

Tomorrow Leviathan would be here. Tomorrow I would have a second chance. My stomach wouldn't stop bubbling with a sickly, acidic fear that threatened to burn through the resolve I'd been building over the last two days of training. I sat down on a bench and forced myself to breathe slowly, staring at the distant, darkening sky.

Last time had gone mostly well, until the second wave. If I could survive that, I'd have a chance to maybe try something. Of course what I could actually do was still in question. Maybe recovering the injured, especially since my field could support most of their weight. Well, maybe. I hadn't actually tried carrying anything, though I'd done plenty of heavy lifting. Probably should have done that, but now it was too late.

I sighed. So much to do and literally no time to do it in. The universe was a rotten bitch for that one, but at least I had some forewarning. That was about the only reason I wasn't beside myself with panic. I was pretty good about keeping my power in check, right against me as I did everything. The first day had some stumbles, and I had the scrapes to prove it, but I was doing better.

I began walking home, my mind still racing. I had to figure out what I was doing tomorrow. Setting an early alarm to make sure that I had time to gear up. Get Mom out of the house and heading for cover. Heading down to the beach and...hm.

Last time I'd been...adopted, for lack of a better term. That team had seemed pretty good, I just didn't fit in well. Or really, I didn't know how I could fit in. And I still didn't. I wasn't a front line fighter because I couldn't deal damage, I wasn't really a Shaker that could do real force-fields, I had a projection that I controlled. It was awkward to fit me into any category.

I'd have to play it by ear. That was sadly more common in my life than I'd like to admit, but I was kind of an awful planner. With a situation like this too, there were so many moving parts that any plan I made would just fall apart in seconds. That would leave me confused and off-balance at a time where I needed to be more level than ever.

So I'd get there and introduce myself as...fuck. Names were such a bitch, and not exactly a priority right now. What had Plymouth called me the first time, Inominate? 'No-name', what a fucking creative. Well, it would work for now as stupid as it was. I didn't have any better ideas, and frankly didn't want to spare the brainpower.

I had already selected my outfit for tomorrow: a black leotard beneath my hoodie and sweatpants. I'd found a pair of hiking boots that were my size, hiding in the back of the closet, and recovered them too. And of course, the big, blue headscarf. I knew exactly how to wrap that to make a perfect mask. Yeah my costume would still be pretty DIY and have the vibes of 'it's my first day, please help!', but it was a start.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Amelia,” Mom called out as I walked in the front door. Wait, that wasn't right, she was supposed to be out because of her binge and breakdown last night. I'd avoided that this time, thank god. “Come into the living room. We need to talk.” Sweat pricked at my back.

“What about?” I asked as I came in. Mom was sitting in an armchair, lips pressed tightly.

“How has school been?” Ah. Shit.

“Fine,” I replied with a shrug. “I uh, I haven't been feeling well for a couple of days so I didn't go but--”

“You've been feeling well enough to go out all day.” I snapped my mouth shut. “I do come home to leave those notes, you know? And to check the answering machine.” Shit.

“I just...” I struggled to think up an excuse. “I've been having...problems.” I winced as she arched a brow.

“What kind of 'problems'?” She asked sharply. “And why haven't I heard about them until now?”

“The kind I don't want to talk about,” I snapped. I didn't mean to snap but, well...I was stressed. “It's fine. I'll go tomorrow, okay?”

“You certainly will, because I'll be taking you there to meet with the principal.” The pit of bubbling magma my gut resembled began to boil with anxiety...until I remembered I wouldn't be going to school tomorrow.

“Okay,” I said flatly. “Anything else? I'm...tired.” It was true, but also I just didn't want to be having this conversation.

“Oh yes, you're grounded.” Mom's glare was severe. “Until school is out, you'll be going there, then straight home. Nowhere else.”

“Okay,” I repeated. Again...not really a problem. “Can I go?” She seemed taken aback by my nonchalant agreement.

“...I wish you'd talk to me about what's wrong.” I hesitated in rising from the couch.

“It's...complicated.” That was a shitty explanation, but frankly, yeah, it described things well enough. “When I figure out how I'll...explain things. Okay?” I couldn't promise anything more, since I might be dead tomorrow.

“Alright.” Mom seemed satisfied, or at least she wasn't badgering me. “I love you, Amelia.” I held back a grimace.

“Love you too,” I said quickly before fleeing downstairs.

At least that was something I was used to faking. I'd have preferred to at least try and be a good daughter, but I was preoccupied. I shut and locked my door behind me, grabbing a little journal from the shelf at the foot of my bed. I didn't have time for fancy cryptography, I just made sure my handwriting was difficult even for me to get.

I wrote down my observations of the day, progress in fine control of my power, and other little bits. The section on feeling was growing longer and longer, if only because it was so weird. My field seemed to be selectively permeable enough for me to breathe and feel warmth from the sun, or chill from the wind. But if I washed my hands with it on my skin, then moved it, my hands would be dry. I'd feel wet though, until my field had moved.

I chewed on the end of my pen, which was already well-worn with toothmarks. What else? That thing with the boulder had been interesting. My 'displacement' theory was getting more and more evidence. It was a decent one, I thought, to explain how my power interacted with the world. Time would tell if it held up to...testing.

It would be nice if it covered my clothes. Only the tightest outfits were offered protection, unfortunately. The leotard was so I had something, just in case my jacket and pants were damaged. As long as I kept control of my projection, it'd be just as safe as me.

Which was to say, god only knew how safe. Not safe enough to not die at least once. I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a long, shuddering breath. That was maybe a dream, maybe not; I had been turning it over in my head, flip-flopping on what seemed most likely. I still wasn't convinced. But that didn't matter.

I stripped and put on the leotard, laying out my hoodie and sweats at the foot of my bed. I set three alarms, staggered from five-thirty onwards. I wasn't sure exactly what time Leviathan had made landfall, but it was after six. I wanted to make sure I was awake and completely prepared, both physically and mentally.

I ran through a series of slow stretches, mostly to keep my limbs limber. I'd never found the motivation to do this stuff back home, but now...well I sort of needed my body in as peak condition as possible. Obviously cardio would have to wait, but anything in the meantime was better than just sitting still.

Of course I wasn't lucky enough to have a Noctis power so I didn't need to sleep. That would have been faaaaar too useful to actually be allowed. I'd have to muddle through on the measly twelve hours of training I'd got yesterday and again today. I wasn't too hopeful about my chances in the fight.

But...I knew how it went, roughly. I knew that at some point, Scion intervened. I knew Brockton Bay survived, not quite intact but still. There was so much still to come after this, and despite my fears, I sort of wanted to see it; and if I could survive Leviathan...well, I could probably handle what came next.

I wanted to go home more. I sighed and shut off the lamp, plunging my room into the usual darkness. Going home wasn't something I could be bothered with right now, it was a distraction from the here and now. When it came time, I'd look for a way home. Until then I had to stop borrowing grief from the future.

Because there was more than enough right now.