INTERLUDE: AMATEUR MISTAKE

Taylor sat on the motel bed, her hands resting loosely on her knees. A bottle cap lay in front of her, perfectly still.

She exhaled, focusing.

Reach.

The air shimmered. It was subtle—so subtle that if she weren’t her, she wouldn’t have noticed. A faint distortion, a ripple of movement that bent reality itself.

And within that ripple, there was color. A soft, unmistakable blue.

That was why she had named it. Blue.

It was a little childish, maybe, but the name just felt right.

The cap twitched.

She gritted her teeth, adjusting her focus. She had learned that Blue wasn’t just about activation. It was about direction. When she reached without intent, the pull scattered—weak, unfocused. But when she concentrated, when she knew where she wanted it to go, it responded.

She tried again, her intent stronger this time.

The shimmer returned, but stronger. The bottle cap slid toward her an inch.

Taylor exhaled, heart pounding.

It was progress. Not perfect—still unreliable, still inconsistent—but it was becoming something she could control.

. . . . .

Taylor moved across the mat, sweat trailing down her back. Keith called out instructions, watching as she and Brian circled each other.

She was getting better at reading movements. Every shift in weight, every tell.

Brian lunged—she sidestepped.

A quick counter followed, but he blocked. He was bigger, stronger, but she was faster. Smarter.

She adjusted her stance, preparing for his next attack—

And then she felt it.

The pull.

Her chest tightened. She hadn’t meant to activate it, hadn’t even thought about it, but there it was—that tug, barely noticeable, but enough.

Brian’s step faltered—just for an instant, just enough for his balance to shift forward when it shouldn’t have.

He caught himself, frowning.

Taylor’s stomach dropped.

Shit.

She moved fast, covering the mistake, using his moment of imbalance to push forward. A strike, a feint, anything to make it seem like she had thrown him off, not something else.

Keith clapped once. “Good read.”

Brian straightened, rolling his shoulders, his frown lingering. “Yeah. Good read.”

Taylor forced herself to breathe evenly. He hadn’t seen anything. He couldn’t have. It was too small, too subtle.

Still, as they reset, Brian kept glancing at her—thoughtful, curious.

And Taylor knew she needed to be more careful.