Alina barely slept that night. The low murmur of voices drifted through the Safehouse as its occupants moved in and out of shadows, exchanging fragments of information and secrets in tense whispers. She lay on a makeshift cot in a corner, eyes half-closed, trying to listen while keeping her own thoughts hidden.
When she did drift off, her dreams were fragmented and strange, visions bleeding into one another. She saw fire, walls crumbling, people running… and at the center of it all, a figure whose face was always just out of reach, calling to her in a voice she couldn’t quite hear.
She awoke before dawn, sitting up abruptly, her heart racing. She didn’t know if it was another vision or just a remnant of her fears, but either way, it left her feeling hollow. Her hands shook as she pressed them against her knees, trying to steady herself.
A figure moved nearby. She turned to see Jarek watching her, leaning casually against a wall, his gaze intent.
“Rough night?” he asked, a hint of sympathy in his voice.
Alina nodded, not bothering to hide the truth. “I don’t sleep well.”
“Not many of us do.” He crossed his arms, studying her with a mix of curiosity and something else she couldn’t quite identify. “Visions?”
She tensed. “Maybe.”
He gave a slight nod, accepting her guarded answer. “We get all sorts here, you know. People who’ve seen things, done things. But I don’t think I’ve ever met an oracle.”
Alina looked away, a familiar prickling sensation running down her spine. The word felt foreign and heavy in his voice, a title she was still learning to accept. She’d spent so long hiding, denying her abilities, that she sometimes forgot what it meant to be the last of her kind.
Jarek moved closer, his voice low. “You’re safe here, as much as anyone can be in this city. But if you want to survive, you’ll have to learn to control it.”
“Control it?” Alina scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Do you think I want this? I didn’t ask to be born with this… curse.”
He held her gaze, unflinching. “It’s only a curse if you let it be.”
The words struck a chord in her, settling into a part of her that had been buried beneath years of fear and distrust. She wanted to argue, to push him away, but something in his expression—an understanding, a shared pain—made her pause.
“I don’t know how,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I never had anyone to teach me.”
Jarek’s face softened, and for a moment, he looked far older than his years. “Then maybe it’s time you learned. We have allies here—people who can help you. People who know things about the regime, about the oracles. And maybe even about you.”
She clenched her fists, feeling the familiar surge of fear and anger twist inside her. It was dangerous to trust, but she was running out of options, out of places to hide.
“What do you need from me?” she asked, a trace of defiance in her voice.
“Only that you stay,” he replied, his gaze steady. “If you’re willing, there’s a group heading out tomorrow night—a scouting party to gather information on the regime’s movements. I think you should go with them. You’ll learn more about the city and see firsthand what we’re up against.”
Alina’s heart skipped, a mixture of excitement and dread stirring within her. The thought of stepping back into the city, of actively challenging the regime, was both terrifying and thrilling. She knew it would be a risk, but it was one she was willing to take.
“Fine,” she said, her voice firmer than she felt. “I’ll go.”
Jarek smiled, a hint of approval in his eyes. “Good. Meet us at the back entrance just before midnight.”
As he turned to leave, Alina felt a surge of determination. She didn’t know what awaited her, but she knew one thing: she couldn’t hide forever. She had been given a gift—or a curse, depending on how one looked at it—and if this was her fate, then she would meet it head-on.
The hours passed in a haze of anticipation, the quiet murmur of the Safehouse sharpening into a hum of preparation as night fell. People gathered supplies, whispered strategies, and exchanged glances filled with purpose. Alina kept to herself, watching from the edges, absorbing as much as she could.
When midnight approached, she joined Jarek and a small group at the back entrance, her nerves thrumming with a blend of fear and excitement. They moved through the darkened streets, slipping between shadows, the city stretching out before them like a labyrinth of secrets.
The streets were quiet, the air thick with tension as they crept toward the heart of the city. Jarek led the way, guiding them through narrow alleys and hidden passages that twisted and turned in a maze-like pattern. Alina kept her gaze focused, every sense alert, her heart pounding with every step.
They reached an old government building, its once-grand façade crumbling under years of neglect. Jarek signaled for them to stop, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of guards.
“This is one of the regime’s main outposts,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “They keep records here—files on citizens, on rebels, and… on oracles.”
Alina’s heart skipped. “You think they have something on me?”
Jarek nodded. “If the regime suspects anything about you, it would be here. This is our chance to learn what they know, what they’re planning.”
A thrill of apprehension ran through her, but she pushed it down, steeling herself. She had come this far, and she wasn’t about to turn back now.
One by one, they slipped inside the building, moving silently through the empty corridors. The air was stale, thick with the scent of dust and decay, each step echoing softly in the oppressive silence.
They reached a small room lined with filing cabinets and stacks of yellowed papers. Jarek motioned for Alina to start searching, and she moved quickly, rifling through files, scanning names, dates, notes scrawled in hasty handwriting.
Finally, her fingers brushed against a document bearing a symbol she recognized—a circle crossed by a jagged line, the mark of the oracles. She pulled it out, her hands trembling as she read the text.
“Project Oracle: Subject 12 – Status: Unknown. Suspected abilities include visions, heightened perception, and… potential threat level: high.”
Her breath caught. The words blurred before her eyes as she struggled to process them. They knew. They knew about her, about her visions, about the danger she posed. And they weren’t just searching—they were hunting.
Jarek glanced over her shoulder, his jaw tightening as he read the document. “We need to leave. Now.”
Before she could respond, a distant sound echoed through the building—a door slamming, followed by the heavy tread of footsteps.
Panic flared in her chest, but Jarek grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the exit. “Stay close,” he whispered urgently.
They moved quickly, ducking into shadowed corners, slipping through doors, their breaths coming in quiet, shallow gasps. The footsteps grew louder, closer, echoing off the walls like the relentless beat of a drum.
As they neared the exit, Alina risked a glance back, her heart hammering in her chest. A group of guards appeared at the far end of the hallway, their faces obscured but their purpose unmistakable.
“Go!” Jarek hissed, shoving her forward. She stumbled, regaining her balance as they burst out into the night, the cool air a shocking contrast to the suffocating heat of the building.
They ran through the streets, their footsteps echoing in the stillness, the guards’ shouts growing fainter as they put distance between themselves and the building. Finally, they reached the Safehouse, slipping through the door and collapsing against the walls, breathless and shaken.
Alina’s mind reeled, the words from the document repeating in her head. Subject 12. Potential threat. High.
She looked at Jarek, her voice barely a whisper. “They know about me.”
He met her gaze, his expression grim. “Then we don’t have much time.”