Astral Knight

Dylan crept down the stairs like a ninja who'd forgotten how to ninja. His socked feet slid on the wooden steps, and he had to grab the banister to keep from face-planting into the coat rack. Aunt Marla's voice cut through the dark like a foghorn.

"Dylan? That you?"

He froze. Her voice was sleepy but sharp, the kind of tone that could pin you to the wall like a bug. He turned, offering her his best *I'm-definitely-not-doing-anything-sketchy* grin.

"Yeah, just… couldn't sleep. Gonna get some air."

Marla squinted at him from the hallway, her hair a wild silver halo. "Air? At 11 p.m.? You ain't foolin' nobody, kid."

Dylan shrugged, trying to look casual and not like he was about to commit multiple misdemeanors. "Teen stuff, y'know. Existential dread. The usual."

She snorted. "Existential dread my foot. You better be back in one piece, or I'll give you something to dread."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, throwing in a salute for good measure.

She muttered something about "ungrateful teenagers" and shuffled back to her room. Dylan waited until he heard her door click shut before bolting out the front door, locking it behind him.

Marcus was already outside, leaning against his Jeep like he was in a car commercial. The engine purred softly, and he waved Dylan over with a grin. "Took you long enough. I was about to leave your slow, black-assed butt behind."

"Shut up," Dylan said, climbing into the passenger seat. "Where are we even going?"

"Wherever the wind takes us," Marcus said, revving the engine. "Or, y'know, until we run out of gas. Whichever comes first."

Dylan rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling. There was something about Marcus's chaotic energy that made even the dumbest ideas seem fun.

The Jeep rumbled down the empty backroads, the radio blasting some indie band Marcus was obsessed with. Dylan leaned his head against the window, watching the trees blur into a dark green smear.

"So," Marcus said, breaking the silence. "Sophomore year. You ready?"

Dylan groaned. "Ready to fail algebra again? Absolutely."

"C'mon, man. It's gonna be epic. Parties. Girls. Maybe even a decent football season if Coach gets his act together."

"Girls?" Dylan raised an eyebrow. "You mean Elise Lindley, who still doesn't know you exist?"

Marcus swatted his arm. "Shut up. She knows I exist. She just… doesn't care."

"Same thing."

"Not the same thing!" Marcus protested. "Anyway, what about you? You gonna ask anyone to homecoming, or are you just gonna sit in the corner looking tragic?"

Dylan smirked. "Tragic is my brand. Besides, who'd wanna dance with a guy who might collapse mid-slow jam?"

Marcus laughed, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—worry, maybe. He quickly masked it with a grin. "You're such a drama queen."

"Takes one to know one."

They lapsed into comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from years of friendship. Dylan let himself relax, the tension in his chest easing for the first time in weeks. For a moment, he almost felt normal.

The Jeep sputtered to a stop about an hour later, steam pouring from the hood. Marcus slammed the steering wheel, cursing like a sailor.

"Piece of junk! I told Dad we needed a new radiator!"

Dylan couldn't help laughing. "Dude, your car's older than my grandma. What did you expect?"

"Not this!" Marcus popped the hood, waving away the steam. "Help me out here, genius."

"Help you what? Perform a miracle?"

"Just hold the flashlight!"

Dylan grabbed the flashlight from the glove compartment, shining it on the engine. It looked like a metal spaghetti monster had thrown up in there.

"You know what any of this does?" Dylan asked.

"Not a clue," Marcus admitted. "But it's gotta be something with the… uh… thingy."

"The thingy? Wow, you're a regular mechanic."

Marcus shot him a glare. "You got a better idea?"

"Yeah. Call a tow truck."

"And waste the night? No way. We're having an adventure, remember?"

Dylan sighed but didn't argue. He leaned against the Jeep, watching Marcus poke at the engine with a wrench. The night was quiet except for the occasional chirp of crickets and Marcus's muttered curses.

It wasn't until they started walking that Dylan realized where they were. The road had led them to the edge of Novagen's property, the high fence looming in the distance. The facility was lit up like a spaceship, its glass walls glowing against the dark sky.

"Uh… Marcus?" Dylan said, stopping in his tracks. "You realize we're, like, right next to Novagen, right?"

Marcus froze, following Dylan's gaze. "Oh. Huh. Guess we are."

"You *guess*? This is the most heavily guarded place in the county!"

"Relax, dude. It's not like we're breaking in. We're just… exploring."

"Exploring?" Dylan hissed. "We're trespassing!"

"Only if we get caught."

Dylan groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You're gonna get us arrested. Or shot. Or arrested *and* shot."

Marcus grinned, that reckless glint in his eye that always got them into trouble. "C'mon, Dylan. Live a little. When's the last time you did something fun?"

"Define 'fun.'"

"This." Marcus gestured to the fence. "It's an adventure. A story to tell. Besides, don't you wanna see what they're hiding in there?"

Dylan hesitated. He *did* want to know. Their unreasonable results in a short period of time, the rumors of toxic dumping, the way he imagined voices that had sounded in the lobby it all gnawed at him. But the idea of sneaking into Novagen's facility was insane.

"This is a terrible idea," he said finally.

"All the best ideas are," Marcus replied, already climbing the fence.

Dylan stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. "If we die, I'm haunting you forever."

"Deal."