"Tyrone… you will destroy the world."
Those words hung in Jared's office long after the girl who'd called him "Dad" had left the room. Julie's voice had cracked when she demanded an explanation. Jared had asked everyone to leave. Now it was just him and me in the hush that followed.
"I'm going to have to ask you guys to vacate the room. I want a quick discussion with Tyrone," Jared had said, sliding forward in his chair.
They all left. The door clicked. The atmosphere tightened.
"Tyrone," Jared said finally, "I know nobody's told you anything, but this… you not having powers? It wasn't a mistake."
"I've been trying to find out what this ring is about," I told him. "Why is it inside me? I can't find answers."
He folded his hands. "The ring is the Titan—the Superpower Suppressor. It was created on Earth when superpowered humans first appeared. And… the Sentients want you dead."
Back in Lunaris, the girls were moving.
"Sage, it's almost time," Eria said into the comm. "I'm going to try and talk to the guys again. Alice — check the intel your dad sent about the Taskforce. Eria — you bump into Tyrone's sisters at the supermarket today."
"Are you sure? It's literally just the three of us," Alice asked, uncertain.
"If the plan works today, it won't be just the three of us," Eria answered, tugging on her jacket. "So—let's get ready. Long day."
Jared watched me with eyes that had seen too many worlds. "You'll want to see this in your head. Greg—connect me."
Greg stepped forward, smooth and clinical. "If you want to know, I'll link psychically. I'll show you what happened." He reached for my hands. The room dissolved.
— FLASHBACK: St. John Memorial Hospital
Rain smeared the neon of the city into watercolor. A cloaked skiff hummed overhead, its shadow passing over the hospital like an omen.
Two Sentients moved like predators through the storm: Thomas, tall and heavy as an earthquake — Uranus' presence made the street lamps bow; and Sean, of Venus, whose golden calm hid claws. Their steps were silent but full of intent. Behind them, three Taskforce operatives—black gear, faces masked—advanced like an execution squad.
They did not want a spectacle. That was the point.
"We will not make a scene," Thomas said, voice low and resonant. "The Titan must be implanted tonight—quietly. No alarms, no witnesses, no interplanetary interest."
"If any world knows we were on Earth, war follows," Sean added. His light shimmered like heat above a road. "This isn't conquest. It's containment."
They approached Michael—an old-guard Guild Master who had been at the hospital that night. He was not a Sentient. He was a man who carried authority like armor.
"You can't come here," Michael said, blocking their way, stepping protectively toward the maternity ward.
A human operative adjusted his rifle. "Move aside."
"You'll take him over my dead body," Michael said.
They didn't want war. They wanted silent eradication.
Michael struck first. Earth tore up around him—pavement bucking into pillars. He was raw power in human form: fierce, prepared to defend what mattered. For a moment, his earth-wrought fists held the line. He slammed a sentinel operative aside; a guard went down like a tree uprooted.
But Thomas only lowered a hand. Gravity contorted, a weight pressing down on Michael like a mountain. The world seized him. He grunted against the force, wrenched free, and hit back—but the Sentients were precise. Sean brushed a hand over Michael's temple, and something inside his mind scrunched like paper; moments of memory folded and blurred. The three humans danced through the gaps, exploiting openings.
It was ugly. Quiet brutality—metal against bone, the thud of lungs gasping under pressure. Michael fought like a man finding his last stand. He managed to land one blow that staggered Thomas. He reached toward the ward one last time.
Then, while Michael was wound down from the shock of deflection, one of the operatives moved in—silent, efficient. A blade flashed. Michael fell, the sound of his body thudding against wet asphalt swallowed by rain.
No trumpet. No declaration. Just the fall of a man who'd tried to be the shield.
The Implant
Inside the maternity ward, a nurse's eyes glowed with the fog of whatever had been whispered to her. The newborn cried, tiny lungs fighting the air.
One of the Taskforce operatives moved like a surgeon. He bore a small, cylindrical device—black as midnight and etched with alien lines that pulsed faintly. The Titan did not wrap around the throat or cling to skin; it was designed for secrecy. It fused into tissue, threaded into the child's core beneath the sternum, nesting close to the heart.
There was no great flash for the hospital corridors. A faint warmth, the baby's soft whimper, and then a small, distinctive crack deep somewhere inside the child—a noise too internal to register outside flesh.
"It's done," the operative said, voice like metal. "No trace, no alert. History won't know we were here."
They folded back into the rain, disappeared into the city, and left a world that would never be the same.
The vision collapsed like a breath. I was back in Jared's office, chest tight, Greg's fingers loosening from my hands.
"You're sure?" I asked, voice small.
Jared nodded, face pale. "Two Sentients. Three human operatives. Discreet. They implanted the Titan to hide the presence of Sentients on Earth. That was their fear: a war if anyone ever knew."
"So they wanted me… gone," I said, swallowing bile.
"Yes," Jared confirmed. "They wanted to avoid an interplanetary response. They tried to bury the problem."
Lunaris — Supermarket (Eria with Naomi & Vanessa)
Eria's hand was shaking when she stepped into the electronics aisle. Naomi and Vanessa were comparing phones, laughs soft and forced.
Eria tried to keep her voice steady. "I'm Tyrone's classmate. We were attacked during the rank exam. The Taskforce—they're not who they seem. We've been collecting dirt. We need your help taking them down."
Vanessa blinked. "You don't get it. This isn't a school fight. This is covert. You want to poke a hornet's nest?"
Naomi watched Eria, expression unreadable. "I won't pretend I'm not uneasy. But if you're set, I won't stand in your way. Just—don't be reckless."
Vanessa sighed. "Alright. If you're going to do this, do it right: always have two exit routes, never use traceable comms, and don't let anyone outside your inner group know details. If you're found, get out. Prioritize your lives."
Eria nodded so fast her ponytail slapped her shoulder. "We'll do it like that. Thanks."
Guild Azure — Later That Evening
Sage called out as she chased the others down the hall. "Hey, guys—anyone seen Tyrone? He's not answering calls."
"Forgot his phone at his grandma's," Robert replied too quickly. Mike laughed, and James shrugged. Their nervousness stank like cheap cologne.
Sage's eyes narrowed. "Have you been thinking about the rank exam attack?"
Silence. Then the chorus of denials, weak as glued smiles. Meanwhile, Alice whispered over the comms, "She's suspicious."
"We move tonight," Robert said under his breath. "With or without the hooded man."
Bruce's voice was final: "We do it now."
Naomi & Vanessa — Night, Smith Residence
Marcus burst in like a storm, breathless and triumphant. "We found them. The Taskforce base—hidden under an old freight yard outside Lunaris. Darius has eyes on it. We move tonight."
Naomi sat up, every instinct alight. "You're serious?"
Marcus handed over a handheld feed with the layout. "Darius, me, our team—and we want you two. You're coming."
Vanessa held the device, cold and practical. "If we hit them tonight, do it surgical. No theatrics. No extra people."
Naomi's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "Then we go."
That night, everything felt taut—strings pulled tight across two planets. On Jupiter, Sentients whispered about what they'd tried to hide. On Earth, a group of teenagers and young adults readied for a raid that could blow the lid off a conspiracy decades old.
Between both worlds, a tiny ring of alien origin slept inside me—silent, cracked, and thrumming. Somewhere inside that fragile shell, two orbs continued their endless struggle: light against shadow, both clawing to decide which one would wake first.