The sweat rolled down her back like condensation dripped down the windows of the small, aging convenience store that she was currently in, waiting for her boyfriend to come pick her up. Fallon Locke walked up and down the aisle of the refrigerated section that featured the bottled sodas and canned coffee, trying to cool and calm down after running away from home. She would not go back this time, not after her father’s ultimatum, not after her father and older half-brother pawned all of her late mother's jewelry so that they could indulge in their habits when that was her mother's, not her brother's mother, and certainly never her father's wife or partner. So, she stuffed the only other thing she had left of her mother, her mother's crystal ball, with the rest of her belongings in her backpack and didn't look back.

She thought back to when her mother said that they were magic and that they had a gift, but Fallon had never seen that crystal ball do anything. Which was because there was no such thing as magic. Not that it mattered; this crystal ball was a part of her mother, and that was enough.

She wanted a drink, but she also needed to save money. That run had left her in need of water, but even the fountain cups here cost money. She knew her boyfriend was not going to let her stay with him for free, plus she was going to have to get herself to school in the morning while he played video games with his roommates, then find a way to get to her waitressing job.

"Give me all your money!" a voice echoed off the walls.

Fallon turned and saw a group of people in all black, faces covered. She never even heard anyone come in, but the gun at the old clerk's head was frightening.

She couldn't see any details, but before she could breathe, the old clerk fell back, and there was no hesitation from the gunman. She squatted down, hoping that she was not seen.

"Dude, you weren't suppose to shoot him," that was her boyfriend Jackson's voice.

"I don't care, get the money," the gunman said.

It sounded like his roommate, Corey.

There was no way Jackson was going to stay her boyfriend now, and she knew she could stay with him now, but her immediate problem was making sure she could get out of this store alive.

But that is when something weird happened.

Fallon froze, ratty sneakers glued to the floor. She paused halfway with the can on the shelf half-raised, scared to move for the squeak of shoes on the polished tile, or the gentle thunk of the can being set down would surely give her away.

Her eyes darted around — the door, too far. The cameras, not pointed at her. The employee’s only room, maybe a few paces away. Jackson and Corey’s voices were low, and the AC hummed in time with the cooler, masking Fallon’s footfall as she slid into the staffroom, dragging five cans of soda along with her.

They wouldn’t miss it. What’s petty theft to armed robbery? They’ll assume Jackson stole them.

Jackson.

The name was a stake through her heart, his voice, no, Corey’s: ‘you weren’t supposed to shoot him.’

Had he died? Had Fallon just become witness to a murder?

She sprang for the lock on the door, wedging it shut with a mop across the handle. Her phone was dying—no luck there, and she could hear the boys rifling through the cash register, fast and frantic, as she searched through her bag. A set of pajamas, a five dollar bill, toothbrush, gum, and…her mother’s crystal ball. She picked it up. It was weighty, and rolled from her bag to the floor without cracking. It was either dense glass, or acrylic all along, and Fallon had always been good at an overarm serve.

She pushed open the door a crack, and scurried out between the shelves of stale chips and candy bars. From her vantage point, she spied two heads, covered in black, over the top of the register.

She lifted her arm…and pitched. The glass ball sailed over the shelves in a clean arc, silent until it struck the head of Jackson, then Cory in quick succession. Fallon had always had a powerful arm. It, along with both boys, fell to the floor with an almighty crash, before the ball rolled back to her, unharmed and not chipped.

Fallon stared at it.

And so came the final mercy of Maria Locke.

The mix of truckers and regulars at the local diner had Fallon so busy that she had not had time to think about what happened at that gas station with her now ex-boyfriend Jackson and his roommate Corey. Both of them were in the local jail waiting for their initial court appearance, and knowing that both of them were broke, so there would be no way that they would be able to make bail. Or at least, she hoped.

The smell of greasy food and coffee flooded her senses as she refilled coffee for a trucker who was much younger than what she was used to, but with his breakfast for dinner, his flannel, and his iPad out with the logbook app, everything about him gave off trucker vibes. After setting the check down, Fallon checked on her other tables while her co-worker, a 22-year-old named Pearl Walker who was flirting with a trucker who looked twice her age.

Which made her think about Jackson and how the female police officer with the kind face told her that she was too young to be dating someone in their mid-twenties, and that he groomed her. The woman was very nice about it and gave her a link to how grooming works. She was surprised by how much it fit what happened with her. At the time, she thought that the secrecy, flattery, and attempted isolation were his way of loving and trying to protect her, but now she knows otherwise.

A boy, who looked her age with light hair and a defined chin, who sat in her section, his eyes felt like they were seeing right into her soul.

"What drink can I get for you?" Fallon placed the menu on the table beside him.

"Just coffee, thank you," his voice smooth and slightly posh, as he glanced out the window as if he was waiting for something.

"I'll be right back," she smiled.

She walked to the coffee pot after grabbing a mug, pouring the dark liquid to the top, she carefully turned around and wait what? It looked like light was coming off the boy's hand. No, she had to be imagining things. It was already past ten, and it had been a trying few days.

"Here you go," Fallon said as she placed the cup of hot coffee on the table, "Do you know what you would like, or did ya need a few more minutes?"

He seemed caught off guard.

"A few more minutes, please," he muttered.

The stranger with the blonde hair had been there every day that Fallon had worked for just over a week. Always in her section, and always oddly fixated on her. It was so odd. Before now, Jackson was the only guy who had ever shown her attention.

After placing a ticket on Joe's, the elderly trumpet player who came in every day after playing his trumpet, somehow escaping the nursing home that his kids put him in table, she looked around to see if anyone else needed anything, and after seeing nothing, she went to start a new pot of coffee. Since this was the time the truckers normally came in.

Once the coffee machine finished its brew, she grabbed the pot and walked around filling up mugs. The last person on that list is the teen her age with the blonde hair in the corner of the dinner, and when she starts to pour, a spoon falls from the table behind her. This completely distracts Fallon, making the coffee pot hit the boy's table and fall from her hand. Which almost had her diving for the pot, because she did not want to get her pay docked for breaking another one. But it froze in mid-air, and so was everything and everyone else. What was happening?

"Don't panic, we need to talk." The boy stood up, pulled the coffee pot out of the air, and set it on his table.

"Did you drug me?" she exclaimed. She had never done drugs, but if she did, she imagined that this is what it would feel like.

"Drugs?" he asked, "I'm not into potions."

His reaction did not make sense at all to Fallon. He acted like he didn't know what drugs were, but that was insane because everyone knew what they were.

Fallon can't do much but gawk at the guy. What was wrong with him?

"Potions? This isn't a children's TV show. Why are you talking about make-believe?" She was freaking out.

"What part of this feels fake to you syel?" he said as his posh accent sounded more apparent as he stepped closer to her before he ran his index finger down the right side of her face. "I've been looking for you."

"Excuse me?" Nothing he was saying made any sense.

"Being next to you is like being injected with pure magic, I can't normally hold a stasis this long, but you are like raw energy syel," he continued as he looked her up and down.

"What?"

"Syel, did your mother not explain your mana to you?" he asked with confusion written all over his face.

"Mana? Syel? Is this even English?" she asked as she pulled her long black hair off her neck.

"I guess that explains why you don't know me. You're a loom like your mother was before you, and I am your aegis. Looms like you have reactive mana that can shatter barriers, heal infected souls, and weaponize many things, while aegis like me are physical executioners of devourers and am a guardian of loom, of you. I have increased strength, the ability to stall time, and a natural immunity against miasma mana and those who use it. When you threw that crystal ball, you not only unlocked your mana, but you also flashed your mana across the grid, and it called out to me and our enemies, the devourers." He explained as if the words he said were just normal.

"Mana?"

"Yes, mana," he confirmed, not understanding that he was asking what that was. "We are loom and aegis, syel, our souls and mana were marked by the stars to be syels the moment we were born. I just didn't know you were before because your mana was asleep."

"No, what is mana? And what is this syel that you keep calling me? My name is Fallon," she was so frustrated.

"And my name is Holden Sterling," he smiled. "Mana is your magic, but you know, real. Syel is what we are to each other. The easiest way to explain it is we are like partners or comrades."

"Oh," she didn't know what else to say.

"Danger is near," Holden said as his eyes narrowed out the window, "remember when I said that your mana called out to our enemies?"

"Um, yes?" she said it like a question, and Fallon might have said yes, but she wasn't sure what she remembered.

"Because they were alert from your raw energy, how the devourers are looking to build an army to kill us all and take over the world, you might not be trained, but it is only us, and we have no choice. Come with me." Holden offered his hand to her.

No part of her thought that this was a good idea, but she put her hand in his, and he sped them out of the dinner, and in a flash, they were in front of the local jail.

"Why are we here? I don't want to be here." Being near Jackson and Corey sounds horrible, especially when one was a murderer, and the other was her ex-boyfriend who groomed her.

"This is where the devourers are headed to make an army of them out of the prisoners' souls," he tightened his grip on her hand. "If we don't stop it here, then it will spread to the whole town."

It was not suppose to be dark yet, but the atmosphere around the jail was dark and cloudy, as if it was either about to storm or it was night. Yet, it was neither one of those things.

"The miasma and the devourers are already here; he mustn't wait." Holden pulled her along as he created a portal into the wall and pulled her to walk in behind him.

The same dark and cloudy atmosphere that was outside of the jail was also inside of it. Holden held out his hand, and the light from his hand cleared all of that away.

"How did you make that hold in the wall?" Fallon whispered.

"With you, together syel, we can share our mana," Holden explained as they continued walking.