secrets beneath the surface : A tale of mystery and power

{ Mia }

There was blood in my mouth.

Or maybe it was his.

The world staggered back into focus in pieces — wind slicing across the rooftop, the distant screech of sirens, the weight of Ace's hands on my shoulders, grounding me like a tether pulled too tight.

His eyes were wide, scared. Of me.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw, like I'd screamed through fire.

Then I saw him.

The Boss.

What was left of him.

His body was crumpled near the edge, limbs twisted wrong, the air around him still humming with residual energy. Smoke curled from his chest, skin scorched in a spiderweb pattern I didn't recognize — but my bones did. My power had done that. I had done that.

"No," I whispered. But the word cracked like glass in my throat.

Ace didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

I stepped back from him, hands shaking. My nails were still half-shifted, fingertips burned with faint light. My pulse was thundering — and not just mine.

The clone was gone. Scarlett was silent.

And the Boss was dead.

I had killed him.

My knees buckled.

Ace caught me before I hit the ground, pulling me into him without hesitation. His arms wrapped around me like armor, strong and trembling.

"I didn't mean to," I choked out, the words barely audible. "I didn't know—"

"Shh," he whispered, his voice low against my hair. "It's over. You're okay."

But I wasn't. Not even close.

I buried my face in his chest, trying to escape the stench of ozone and death still hanging in the air. My hands were stained — not just with blood, but with something deeper. Guilt. Grief. Something final.

"I killed him," I said, hollow.

Ace was quiet for a beat. Then:

"I know what that feels like."

The way he said it — soft, heavy, like something carried too long — made me lift my head. I didn't ask. I didn't have to.

He just met my eyes and said, "It doesn't define you, Mia. Not unless you let it."

Something unspoken passed between us — not forgiveness, not yet. But understanding. The kind that only came from matching scars.

"You survived," he added. "And that matters more than anything."

I nodded, barely, the weight of the night pulling at every part of me.

"Come on," he said gently. "Let's go home."

~ at home ~

I sat on the bed, my mind reeling , from shock, from regret, from something deeper.

" Shhh, it's going to be okay cupcake. I've got you..."

I turned to him my eyes still sore from crying.

"I just need someone. Please… I don't want to be alone right now."I pleaded sniffling.

Ace's eyes softened, he brushed a curl from my face, fingers warm despite the cold I couldn't shake. His hand lingered on mine, and for a second, I noticed the faint line across his wrist , old, but not forgotten. "I'm not going anywhere, Mia. I'll stay right here." He whispered while wrapping his arms around me.

The room was still. The kind of still that hummed.

Ace had been sitting at the edge of my bed, watching over me like he didn't trust the night to keep its promises. His eyes were heavy, but he hadn't moved to leave. He wouldn't, not unless I told him to. Not unless I made him.

I sat up slowly, brushing hair from my face. My hands still felt strange — not dangerous now, just full. Like my magic was humming quietly beneath the surface, no longer screaming for escape.

"You're not sleeping on the floor," I said, my voice hoarse but steady.

Ace blinked. "I wasn't going to—"

"You were." I gave a faint smile. "So I'm fixing that."

Before he could argue, I stood and lifted my hand, palm open. Gold light flickered along my fingertips, warm and alive, dancing like threads of memory.

Ace watched, eyes softening, as I pulled gently through the air — the same way I'd summoned the axe in the woods. The space shimmered and split, a golden portal blooming open like a rip in the fabric of the ordinary.

I lifted my hand, palm open, the magic humming under my skin. I hadn't used it like this in a while — not with the same purpose. But I remembered. I remembered him.

I reached through the air, pulling a thread of gold like a tether that tied me to everything familiar. A shimmer of light split the space before me, revealing the bed — his bed, the one from his old room.

He said it helped him sleep when the nightmares came. The dark wood, the forest-green sheets, the scent of cedar.

I pulled it through the portal, the soft weight of the bed landing with a thud next to mine.

Ace stared at it for a long moment, his eyes tracing the details, then met mine. "You remembered."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "You said you liked it. I thought you might want it."

He exhaled softly, a quiet laugh escaping. But it wasn't light. It was heavy with something else.

"Thanks, Mia," he said, his voice thick with something I couldn't place.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured.

"Too bad," I said, sliding back under my own covers. "You're stuck with me now."

He laughed — a real one, quiet and warm — and sat down on the edge of the summoned bed.

Gold still shimmered faintly around its frame.

"I'll fade the magic once you fall asleep," I mumbled, eyes already closing.

Ace sank into the mattress, letting out a soft sigh. "You don't have to."

I smiled.

"I know."

And in the stillness that followed, we both finally rested.

{ Author }

The room was cold — not from temperature, but from the absence of life.

Steel walls. Flickering lights. Shadows that didn't move quite right.

Two men dragged what was left of the Boss through the heavy double doors, his body limp and broken, scorched skin still smoking faintly from the raw energy that had ripped through him.

Blood marked their path like a trail back to violence.

"He's not breathing," one of them muttered, voice tight with nerves.

"Doesn't matter," the other replied. "He said to bring him. Dead or not."

The doors hissed shut behind them.

At the end of the room, seated like a king in a throne carved from obsidian and steel, he waited.

He didn't rise. He didn't need to.

Power radiated from him like heat from a furnace — subtle but ancient, a slow, deliberate pressure that made the air hard to breathe. His fingers drummed lazily against the armrest, each tap echoing like thunder.

They dropped the Boss's body at his feet.

"What a waste, and you call youself the phantom." the man murmured, tilting his head as if inspecting a ruined painting. "All that pride. All that promise. And she burned through you like paper."

Silence.

Then he stood, and the temperature of the room dropped.

He crouched beside the body, placing two fingers against the charred remains of the Boss's throat. His other hand hovered above his chest, glowing faintly — not gold like Mia's, but something deeper. Older. A violent shade of crimson laced with black.

The power pulsed.

A shockwave rippled through the room, rattling the walls. The Boss's chest arched off the floor, a horrible, gasping sound tearing from his throat as breath slammed back into dead lungs.

His eyes flew open — bloodshot, panicked — and he choked on air that tasted like ash.

"What happened to you, brother? Why didn't you use your powers?". He asked mockingly.

He chocked ."I—I couldn't... The device — it backfired. Drained me instead of her..."

"You're not done yet. Not until I say so. You'll serve better as my shadow than my equal."