CHAPTER ONE: THE EYES THAT SEE EVERYTHING

Pain.

That was the first thing Taylor expected to feel when she woke up. Pain, nausea, the sticky, suffocating wetness of filth clinging to her skin—something, anything, to remind her of where she had been. Of what they had done to her.

But there was nothing. 

No pain, no weakness, no filth. Just a strange, unnatural clarity that settled over her like a second skin.  

She blinked.

The world burst into detail.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the floor tiles, each one distinct, each one telling a story of neglect. The lockers bore scuffs and dents, uneven and worn, as if they’d absorbed years of punishment. Above her, the faint, almost imperceptible flickers in the fluorescent lights overhead were now glaringly obvious. Even the air itself seemed visible to her—dust particles drifting lazily through space, caught in invisible currents, dancing to a rhythm she couldn’t hear but somehow understood.  

She could see everything.

Her head snapped up, heart pounding in her chest.  

She wasn’t in the locker anymore.  

Taylor wasn’t supposed to be okay. She remembered the suffocating press of rotting filth, the stench burning her nose, the jagged scratch of metal against her arms as she clawed uselessly at the door. She remembered screaming. Waiting. Dying.  

And yet—her body felt whole.  

She flexed her fingers. No pain. No stiffness. Her arms, her legs, her lungs—all perfect.  

Her skin crawled. This wasn’t natural. She knew what should’ve happened, what should’ve followed. A hospital bed. A slow, painful recovery. Therapy, maybe.  

Not this. Not waking up in the middle of the hallway, untouched, as if nothing had ever happened.  

The murmurs around her grew louder.  

People were staring.  

At first, Taylor barely noticed, still drowning in the flood of information her eyes were pulling in. She could see the way their gazes flicked toward her, the subtle tensing of their postures, the split-second pauses in their steps as they whispered to each other. But more than that—she could feel the weight of their attention, like a tangible force pressing down on her.  

Her chest tightened. Why were they looking at her like that?  

Then she caught her reflection.  

In the glass pane of a nearby classroom window, a girl she barely recognized stared back at her. She should’ve looked worse. She should’ve looked broken—pale, weak, hollowed out after hours trapped in the dark. But instead, she was… fine. More than fine.  

But her eyes—  

Taylor sucked in a sharp breath.  

Blue.

Not just any blue. A piercing, impossible shade, glowing faintly in the dim light.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. This wasn’t normal. 

That wasn’t her. She had brown eyes.

Then—

“Holy shit.” Someone muttered nearby. “She’s a cape.”

The air shifted.

The moment the words were spoken, the crowd changed—murmurs turning contemplative, eyes narrowing, movements growing cautious. 

Taylor wasn’t just Taylor anymore.

She was a parahuman.

The realization hit like a slap. Because of the locker, her life—her old life—was gone.

The weight of their stares pressed down on her harder now. Too many voices. Too much attention.  

And among them, one stood out.

Sophia Hess.

For the first time, Taylor saw her clearly—not just the usual confidence she carried, but the way her body reacted on instinct the moment their eyes met. Shoulders stiffening, heartbeat just a little too fast, pupils just a little too wide.

More importantly, she could see something else—beyond that, deeper, somehow. 

A thread. A connection.

Faint, almost imperceptible, but undeniably there.

Her stomach twisted in something not quite fear, but close. It wasn’t normal—nothing about this was normal—but whatever she was seeing, Sophia had something wrapped around her.

Something reaching beyond sight.

Taylor didn’t know what it meant, but it made her skin crawl. Yet, she couldn’t look away, and Sophia, as if sensing something, stared back.

She doesn’t know, Taylor realized. She doesn’t realize I can see it.

The thought sent a fresh wave of unease crashing over her. She turned sharply, forcing herself to move, to push past the sensory overload hammering at her mind. But not before she noticed it—

Sophia was afraid. 

Taylor’s attention snapped back just in time to see her pull out her phone.

Taylor didn’t know what she was doing, couldn’t guess at her exact intentions—but she knew one thing for certain.

Sophia knew exactly what this meant.

And whatever she planned to do next, it wouldn’t be good for Taylor.

She didn’t hesitate. She turned and walked away.

Her legs carried her forward faster than she thought possible, her surroundings a blur of overwhelming details. She heard whispers trailing behind her—saw phones being pulled out, texts being sent, rumors spreading like wildfire. 

By the time she stepped out of Winslow’s doors and onto the street, she knew.

She couldn’t go home.

Her life wasn’t hers anymore.

And she didn’t know what to do next.