secrets beneath the surface : A tale of mystery and power

{ Mia }

The smell of pancakes drifted through the house, warm and sweet, as sunlight crept across my bedroom ceiling. It should've been comforting — a lazy Saturday with my parents chatting downstairs, the world pretending to be normal. But my skin still buzzed faintly, like my powers hadn't fully gone back to sleep. I lay there in silence, Ace's steady breathing beside me, and stared at the ceiling like it might crack open again. After last night, even the calm felt like it was holding its breath.

Ace shifted beside me, groaning quietly as he blinked awake. His hair was a mess, and there was a faint red mark on his cheek from the edge of the pillow.

"You good?" he murmured, voice still heavy with sleep.

I nodded, even though I wasn't sure. "Yeah. Just… trying to feel like a person again."

He gave a soft hum and sat up, stretching. "Well, step one of being a person again? Pancakes."

I managed a small smile. "My mom's?"

He nodded, eyes already a little more awake. "Yup. Chocolate chip. I can smell them from here."

For a second, I let myself pretend we were just regular siblings. No magic. No monsters. No nightmares crawling behind our eyes.

But then I moved my hand — and a tiny flicker of gold sparked at my fingertips.

I stared at it, heart tightening.

Ace caught it too. His gaze softened. "We'll get it under control. Today. Promise."

Downstairs, a chair scraped across the floor. My dad's laugh floated up through the vent, easy and unbothered.

The contrast made my chest ache.

I sat up slowly. "Okay," I said. "Let's train. Before something else sparks and I toast the kitchen."

Ace smirked. "Good plan. Your mom would actually kill you if you burned her pancakes."

I rolled my eyes, but it felt… lighter.

And as we both stood and started getting ready, I realized maybe — just maybe — I wasn't as alone in this fight as I thought.

I tied my hair into a messy bun, wiped the last bit of sleep from my eyes, and cracked the door open. The scent of pancakes was stronger now, wrapping around me like a hug I didn't quite feel ready for.

"Ready?" I whispered over my shoulder.

Ace was already gone.

I glanced around, then narrowed my eyes. "Ace…"

A quiet shimmer of air beside me shifted — and suddenly he was there again, barely suppressing a grin.

"Stealth mode," he said proudly. "Still got it."

"You're such a show-off," I muttered, grabbing the door handle.

"Flattering," he whispered, fading back to invisible as I stepped into the hall.

Downstairs, Mom was humming something cheerful, flipping pancakes with the kind of skill that only came from years of Saturday morning tradition. Dad was at the table, scrolling through his tablet with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

I descended the stairs casually, trying to look like a normal girl who hadn't woken up from a nightmare soaked in sweat and fire.

"Morning, sweetheart," Mom said without looking up. "Hungry?"

I forced a smile. "Yeah, but I've got a ton of homework. Can I eat in my room?"

Dad raised an eyebrow. "On a Saturday?"

"Yeah… I have a bio project. And an essay. And a trig worksheet," I said quickly. "Madame Leroux is in her evil era again."

Mom laughed. "Fair enough. Just don't get syrup all over your notes."

I nodded and grabbed a plate, loading up on two chocolate chip pancakes and a few slices of apple before making a quick exit. I felt Ace brush past me — silent, invisible — as we headed back up the stairs.

Once we were in my room again, he dropped the illusion with a grin. "You're a surprisingly good liar."

I set the plate down and grabbed a fork. "I am not proud of it."

He flopped onto the floor beside my bed. "Still, ten out of ten performance."

We ate in silence for a bit, the quiet familiar but heavy. I couldn't stop thinking about the dream. About the fire. About that voice.

About him.

Ace must've felt it too, because after a moment, he said gently, "We should go."

I nodded, already standing. "Safehouse?"

He stood too. 'Safehouse."

I grabbed the gloves I'd hidden in my closet — special ones lined with energy-resistant fabric — and slipped them on. Just in case.

Ace held out his hand. "You ready?"

"Not really," I admitted, taking it anyway.

But he just smiled. "That's okay. I am."

With one breath, the world around us shimmered and collapsed into a rush of wind and light.

And we were gone.

We landed with a jolt of pressure and light in the center of the safehouse.

It was quiet — the kind of quiet that felt heavy. Dust floated in golden shafts of light from the cracked windows above. Scorch marks from previous sessions still stained the concrete walls. This place had seen everything: rage, breakthrough, failure, and control.

Ace let go of my hand and stepped back, already switching into his serious mode. The version of him that didn't joke or tease — the version that meant business.

I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders.

"Alright," he said, circling me like a coach. "Let's start with control."

I nodded and spread my fingers wide. The gloves were warm — already picking up on the energy pulsing under my skin. I focused, breathing in deep.

"Steady flame," Ace instructed. "Not a burst. Hold it like you're cradling it."

Golden fire flickered to life in my palms — hesitant, like it remembered how badly things could go. My heart jumped, and the flames surged too high.

Ace raised a hand calmly. "Again."

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to focus. Inhale. Exhale. Think of stillness, of warmth — not destruction.

This time, the fire hovered like a small sun above my palm. Steady. Controlled.

"Good," Ace said softly. "Now shape it."

I closed my eyes and imagined a line. A thread of power.

The flame followed — twisting upward like a ribbon in the wind. I opened my eyes and smiled, just a little.

Then everything went wrong.

A cold pressure flared in my chest — familiar and foreign at the same time. A dark tug beneath my ribs, like a second heartbeat. I gasped, stumbling back.

The flame exploded outward — not golden this time, but violet.

Ace was there in a flash, a wall of shadow rising to absorb the blast. The air shook.

When the smoke cleared, I was on my knees, gasping.

"Was that…?" I looked up at him, wide-eyed.

He crouched beside me, scanning my face. "Ash."

The word settled like frost on my skin.

" What's wrong with her, she wasn't acting normal..."I whispered.

" You're right Ash has been corrupted we need to try to fix her."

"How do I do that?" I asked quietly.

Ace stood and extended his hand again.

"Together," he said. "Step by step."

I took his hand.

And this time, I didn't flinch from the power inside me.