Ashlyn Vale slumped into the far corner of the Tower's break room, the sting of her latest training still clinging to her bones like smoke. Her combat jacket lay in a crumpled heap beside her, sleeves scorched at the edges. Sweat clung to her brow despite the hum of the overhead coolers, and her hands—shaking faintly—were curled around a lukewarm protein bar she had no intention of eating.
The room was quiet except for the soft chirp of her Personal Assistant, flickering to life above her wrist with a flicker of red.
[STATUS: CRITICAL FATIGUE DETECTED]
[SYNAPTIC STRESS LEVELS: 82%]
[RECOMMENDED: Mandatory Evaluation at GUIDE TOWER]
Ashlyn scowled and tapped the holo screen harder than necessary, hoping it would go away. It didn't.
"Traitor," she muttered under her breath.
The PA's voice chimed again—neutral, polite, and insufferably persistent. "Ashlyn Vale, you are advised to report to the Guide Tower for sync stabilization. Delay may lead to neural degradation or flare event risk."
She leaned her head back against the cool metal wall, letting her eyes fall shut. Sparks still danced at the edge of her vision—phantom embers from her last burst of flame, or maybe just the warning signs of another flareup. She'd pushed too hard again. But what else was new?
"I'm fine," she whispered.
The PA dimmed but did not disappear.
Ashlyn knew what it wanted. She knew what *they* would want too. The moment she walked into that sterile white building, they'd start with the same lecture: instability, sync thresholds, behavioral risks. Then they'd assign her another Guide—some stiff, smiling puppet with a gentle tone and icy aura that made her want to claw her way out of her own skin.
No thanks.
But as the ache in her limbs deepened and the edges of her consciousness started to fray again, one thought crept in, uninvited and persistent.
Ashlyn's hand dipped into the inner pocket of her singed jacket. Her fingers closed around the small silver pill case she kept hidden there—smooth, cool, and familiar. She flicked it open with practiced ease, not even glancing at the labels. She knew them by heart.
Two pills landed on her tongue. One for synaptic dampening, the other to cool the residual flame threading through her nervous system. She swallowed dry, wincing as the acrid bitterness clung to her throat. Relief would come in minutes, dulling the edge of her abilities just enough to keep her upright. Just enough to keep her from splintering.
The door hissed open.
"Ashlyn!"
Her name, bright and sharp, cut through the haze like a whipcrack. She cracked one eye open to find three figures strolling into the break room, the energy around them electric with casual power.
S-Class, every one of them.
At the front was Jex Marlowe—tall, smirking, and as golden as ever, all tousled blond curls and that cocky grin that had somehow survived three dungeon collapses. Behind him trailed Camrie Thorne, her aura a restless shimmer of violet, and Miko Hale, silent as usual but radiating enough tension to make the walls buzz.
"Training again?" Jex asked, raising a brow as he leaned against the vending unit. "You really don't know what *off duty* means, huh?"
Ashlyn grunted in response, too tired for sarcasm.
Camrie flopped into the chair across from her, propping her boots on the table. "We're hitting a rooftop thing over at Sector 9 tonight. Real drinks. No simulations. No Guides. Just us unchained freaks blowing off steam."
"We figured you could use a little break from your… solo grind," Jex added, voice softer now. "You've been hitting the dungeons hard lately."
Ashlyn opened both eyes this time, catching the flicker of concern poorly disguised behind Jex's nonchalance. She hated that. Pity always tasted like metal in her mouth.
"I'm good," she said flatly.
"You don't *look* good," Camrie said, blunt. "You look like you're one mission away from spontaneously combusting."
Ashlyn's laugh was hollow, brief. "Yeah? At least I'd go out doing something useful."
That killed the mood for half a beat.
Miko finally spoke, voice quiet and oddly sharp. "You're flaring."
Ashlyn's head snapped toward him, the word hitting harder than it should've.
"No, I'm not."
"You *will*, if you don't sync soon."
And there it was again. That word. *Sync.*
She pushed herself to her feet, the motion slow and deliberate. Her joints ached like she was made of cooled slag.
"I said I'm fine."
The pills were kicking in now—she could feel the firebank settling, simmering low in her chest instead of rising to her throat. It was enough. It had to be enough.
Jex raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, no pressure. Party's open invite. Just show if you feel like remembering what it's like to be human."
Ashlyn didn't answer. She was already turning toward the door.
The hum of the break room faded behind her as she stepped into the sterile corridor of the Tower, fluorescent lights overhead buzzing like a hive of quiet judgments.
She didn't want a Guide. She didn't want connection. And she definitely didn't want anyone to see her fracture.
But deep in her gut—underneath the numbness, beneath the pills—something inside her whispered that this time, she wouldn't be able to avoid it.
Ashlyn paused halfway down the hall, the white walls stretching out before her like a clinical tunnel. Her muscles ached, her mind foggy but… quiet, for once. The pills were working. Maybe too well.
The door behind her hissed open again.
"Last chance, fire queen!" Jex's voice called. "You coming or what?"
She exhaled slowly. Her instinct was to say no, to shut down and disappear into her room, to smother the tension with sleep and suppressants until her next mission burned it all away.
But instead, without overthinking it, she turned and strode back toward them with a grin that surprised even her.
"Well, you know what? Let's hit it."
Camrie's eyes widened, and then a slow grin spread across her face. "No way."
Jex whooped, throwing both arms in the air. "Hell *yes*—Ashlyn Vale in party mode, someone call the news!"
Camrie high-fived her as they headed down the corridor together, their footsteps echoing with growing excitement. Miko gave a rare, approving nod, and the group burst out onto the landing pad where their hover bikes were lined up like sleek chrome wolves waiting for a hunt.
Ashlyn slung her leg over hers, the engine thrumming beneath her like a heartbeat. The wind swept back her dark hair, and for the first time in days, her smile didn't feel like it was made of glass.
As they peeled out of the Tower district, the neon-lit skyline of Sector 9 stretched wide and glittering ahead. The streets blurred into a stream of lights beneath them, the city alive with music, movement, and midnight promises.
The freedom was short-lived.
"Hey…" Jex's voice crackled over the intercom, light and casual. "So—don't fry me for this—but I may have invited a few friends to the party."
Ashlyn shot him a glance from her bike. "What kind of friends?"
"Well… you know, it was *supposed* to be just us Espers," Jex said, laughter already sneaking into his voice, "but I do have a few Guide buddies who wanted to tag along. Chill ones. Pretty ones."
Camrie groaned. "Ugh, Jex, seriously?"
"You just want an excuse to flirt with glowy-eyed pretty boys again," Miko said dryly.
Jex let out a mock gasp. "I *cannot believe* the slander I endure. Just because I appreciate aesthetically gifted men with stabilizing auras doesn't mean—"
"You're literally steering us toward the Guide Tower!" Camrie pointed out as the glowing spires of the Tower came into view.
Ashlyn's grip tightened on her bike handles.
It loomed just ahead—cold, elegant, and humming with power. Her smile vanished, jaw clenching as the bikes slowed and hovered just outside the perimeter, blue-white lights casting soft halos over the group.
A few other Espers were already there, waiting. Jex's "friends" would be down in a moment.
Ashlyn didn't dismount. Her body was suddenly rigid, her flames quiet—but watching.
Jex glanced her way, still grinning, but his voice lowered just enough for only she could hear.
"Relax, Ash. It's not like I'm dragging you inside. We're just picking up people, not pairing off."
She didn't answer right away.
The bikes hovered idle just outside the Guide Tower's landing zone, glowing beneath the massive spire that jutted into the night sky like a blade of glass and light. Espers leaned against their rides or sat along the low platform ledge, laughing, teasing, stretching sore limbs. A rare pocket of levity among S-Class.
And Ashlyn—unexpectedly—was at the center of it.
She sat cross-legged on her bike seat, arms resting on her knees, a half-laugh still curling on her lips. Her earlier edge had melted under the buzz of shared adrenaline and Jex's relentless jokes. Even Miko cracked a grin when Jex tried impersonating one of the Tower instructors with perfect, nasal precision.
"'Please remain emotionally neutral while entering the bonding chamber,'" he droned, puffing out his chest in mock authority. "'Your Guide is not your therapist, soulmate, or snack—'"
Camrie doubled over. "*You* would try to make a Guide your snack."
"I *would*, thank you very much. It's called initiative."
Ashlyn laughed—really laughed—for the first time in weeks, head tipping back, raven hair brushing her shoulders. The weight of exhaustion hadn't left her body, but it felt distant now, dulled by the moment.
Then the doors hissed open, and a new energy swept in—softer, colder, but no less powerful.
The Guides had arrived.
A handful of them descended the Tower steps, their tailored uniforms catching the glow of the upper spires. Ashlyn's eyes flicked over the group: A-Class and S-Class both, all radiant in that subtle, restrained way unique to high-level Guides. No sparks, no bursts of fire or lightning. Just calm, disciplined power. Like the deep current beneath still water.
Ashlyn slid off her bike, boots hitting the stone with a soft *thud*. She let her aura dim further, pulling her presence in. No reason to cause a ripple.
Jex bounced over and started the introductions, practically beaming. "Okay, okay, I brought the good ones—no lecture types, no clingy sync chasers."
A few familiar faces met her gaze with polite nods, and to her own surprise, Ashlyn offered a smile in return. She even exchanged a casual fist bump with Tayven Rho, a reserved A-Class Guide who'd helped her group once during a raid in Zone 6.
"You're still standing," Tayven said.
"Just barely," she replied.
One of the S-Class Guides stepped forward then—tall, graceful, a soft warmth in his expression as he extended a hand. "Ashlyn Vale, right? I've heard a lot. It's an honor."
Ashlyn's smile stayed, but something shifted in her eyes. Just a flicker.
She didn't take the hand.
"Ah—no, sorry," she said smoothly, her voice calm but resolute. "My mana's a bit… overwhelming for most Guides. Nothing personal."
The pause was small but noticeable.
The Guide blinked, withdrawing his hand with a gracious nod, though the flush of awkwardness lingered in the air.
Jex broke the moment with a loud clap. "*And* that's why she's the queen of fire and boundaries."
Camrie whistled. "You even turned down pretty-boy Linor? Damn."
Ashlyn shrugged, a little too casually. "It's just easier this way."
But her smile didn't quite reach her eyes now.
The other Espers returned to chatter, the mood recovering quickly, but inside her, Ashlyn felt the shift. The brief flare of her aura, reacting instinctively when the Guide drew near. Not out of attraction. Out of warning.
Because something inside her knew—
It wasn't Linor she was reacting to.
The sound of footsteps echoed across the marble steps of the Guide Tower—slow, precise, and utterly unhurried. The banter among the group softened as heads turned in near unison.
Ashen Vire stepped into view.
Tall, composed, and dressed in the deep gray and black trim of an elite S-Class Guide, he looked like he'd just walked out of a snowstorm—hair black as obsidian, skin pale with a slight chill to it, and eyes a clear, glacial blue that didn't so much *glow* as *cut*. His presence wasn't loud, wasn't grand, but it pressed into the air like frost seeping into glass—silent, controlled, unyielding.
Ashlyn felt it the second he appeared.
Her aura, which had been curled tight and quiet under her skin, flinched. Not in rejection—but in alert recognition. It stirred faintly, like a flame sensing a shift in air pressure.
One of the Guides—Tayven—stepped forward with a grin. "Ah! Ashen—we were just thinking of calling you. We're short a ride. Any chance you feel like lowering your divine blood pressure and coming to party with us commoners?"
Ashen blinked slowly, his gaze sweeping over the group. "You're going out?"
"To the Sector 9 rooftops," Jex added, hopping back onto his bike. "We figured it was time to corrupt a few of your kind with loud music and questionable dancing."
Ashen's brow lifted, barely. "Charming."
Another Guide chimed in with a smirk. "Hey—since Miss Vale here apparently fries through hover bikes like they're disposable—why not let us have yours, and you ride with her?"
Ashlyn raised a brow, arms crossing as she tilted her head toward her teammates. "Really? You're just giving away rides now?"
Camrie smirked. "We just think you could use a *calm* co-pilot."
Ashen looked at her then—really looked.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world felt muffled. The noise of the group, the glowing spires, the buzz of mana around them—it all faded to a low hum.
Ashlyn's fire flared under her skin in a slow, molten curl. Not flaring. Not unstable.
Just… reaching.
She didn't flinch this time.
"…Well," she said aloud, glancing back to her team with a half-shrug, "as long as *he* won't feel overwhelmed by *my* mana."
The group chuckled. Someone made a mock drumroll sound. Jex gave Ashen a wide-eyed look.
Ashen's response was simple, calm, and laced with something far cooler than indifference.
"I think I'll manage."
Ashlyn raised a brow. "You sure? The last guy who tried lost eyebrows."
Ashen's mouth twitched at the corner. "I don't need them to drive."
That earned a burst of laughter from the Espers, even from stoic Miko.
Ashlyn narrowed her eyes at him, but the smile tugging at her mouth was genuine.
"Alright then, ice prince," she said, stepping aside and gesturing toward her bike. "Try not to freeze my seat."
He climbed on behind her with the ease of someone who wasn't fazed by fire, speed, or proximity. The moment his hand settled lightly at the edge of the seat, she felt it—his aura. Cold, clean, not repelling hers but balancing it.
Ashlyn exhaled slowly, barely audible.
Her flames didn't spike. They settled.
The group kicked off again, bikes roaring to life and streaking into the night.
And as the skyline blurred past them, Ashlyn didn't look back—but she did feel it:
For the first time in years, her power wasn't pressing to escape.
The hover bikes sliced through the city's vertical streets like streaks of neon. Below, Sector 9 glittered—a kaleidoscope of lights, moving walkways, towering signs, and aerial lanes packed with late-night traffic. Up here, though, above it all, the wind was sharp and the sky open.
Ashlyn leaned forward on the bike, the throttle humming beneath her grip. The cool night air licked at her face, tangled in her hair, and for the first time in hours, she didn't feel like she was burning from the inside out.
Behind her, Ashen Vire sat steady and silent.
He hadn't said a word since getting on, hadn't shifted or leaned too close. His hand rested lightly behind her on the seat, not touching her, not needing to. But his aura—his energy—was undeniable.
It was everywhere.
Cool. Composed.
Constant.
Ashlyn's flames didn't rebel against it. They wrapped around it, quieting, coiling down into something stable. Her head felt clearer. Her skin, cooler. Her pulse, even.
She didn't even realize she'd spoken until the words slipped out of her mouth—low, half-mused, like an idle thought let loose on a breeze.
"...His energy is cooling."
The words were out.
And unfortunately—
So was her comms channel.
There was a full beat of silence. Then—
"Oooooohhh!" Jex's voice practically sang through the intercom.
Ashlyn's eyes widened. "*Wait—*"
Camrie's laughter cut in. "*Ash! You forgot we're all still linked, didn't you?*"
"I swear to every Guide Law—" she muttered, cheeks flaring hotter than her aura.
"I knew something was up the second you didn't yeet him off your bike," Jex cackled. "Look at her, actually relaxing! Who even are you?!"
"Didn't realize ice types were your type" Miko added dryly, which somehow made it worse.
Ashen, still behind her, didn't say a word. He didn't need to. She could *feel* his steady presence, calm and unreadable, like a winter sky watching a storm roll past beneath it.
Ashlyn groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Okay, everyone *off* comms. You had your moment. It's over. *Disperse.*"
"*Not until you admit you like his vibe,*" Jex teased.
"Jex, I will throw your bike into a plasma vent."
That earned more laughter, but the comms finally quieted as the others peeled off toward the rooftop venue ahead, lights flashing and music already pulsing in the distance.
Ashlyn let the wind rush over her face again, her heart still thudding, but slower now.
She felt Ashen shift slightly behind her—just enough to lean closer, his voice low but audible over the hum of the engine.
"You talk to yourself often?" he asked.
She didn't turn, but her smirk returned, small and sharp. "Only when I'm distracted. And you're unusually… distracting."
A pause.
"You're not overwhelmed?"
Another pause. A beat longer.
"No," he said. "You?"
She hesitated. The truth sat heavy on her tongue.
"No," she admitted. "Not yet."
The city lights swelled ahead of them, and for a moment—just one—the silence between them felt like its own kind of connection.