Lucky had tried.
She had concentrated, pushing herself to the limits of her abilities, willing herself invisible, willing herself away from the walls that trapped her. She had imagined the sky, imagined running across the riverbank, imagined being anywhere but here.
But her powers didn't respond.
Panic bubbled in her chest, hot and bitter. She pressed her hands against the cold metal bars, closed her eyes, and willed herself to vanish—but nothing changed. The prison smelled stronger now, the other prisoners' voices harsher, the guards' footsteps heavier.
For the first time, she truly understood the cruelty of being human. The world had rules she could not bend, people she could not predict, and a body that could be trapped, broken, and tested beyond its limits.
The nights were worst. Shadows seemed to crawl along the walls, and the whispers of her cellmates felt like daggers, each word a reminder of her powerlessness. Sleep came in broken fragments, haunted by Adrian's smile, by the streets where she had once felt warmth, by the river that had once called to her.
She whispered into the darkness, voice trembling: "I tried… I really tried…"
The words hung in the air, meaningless. No one answered. No one ever would.
Her reflection in the narrow mirror was unrecognizable. The girl who had arrived on Earth full of hope, full of trust, full of life, had faded into someone small, hollow, and tired.
And as the days bled together, Lucky realized a devastating truth: sometimes, even power cannot undo the cruelty of the world.