Secrecy

The morning sun rises slowly from the east, casting faint rays that creep across Stella's room. She stares blankly at the ceiling, her mind racing with question, having not slept at all.

"How are High Humans different from other humans? Are there other races? Just how many cultivators are out there?"

These questions had plagued her mind all night, churning in a ceaseless cycle.

A soft knock at the door pulls her back to the present. "Stella, honey, you have to get up. It's time for school," her mother's voice calls through the door, gentle but firm.

She closes her eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. School, she thinks bitterly. How can I go back to something so normal when everything's changed?

The door creaks open a fraction, and her mother's tone shifts, tinged with knowing. "Stella, I know you're awake—I can sense it. Come out soon, or you'll miss the bus, and we're not driving you."

Stella groans softly, rolling out of bed. She throws on the first clothes she finds, not caring about the day ahead, only wishing she could disappear back under the covers. Minutes later, she trudges downstairs. Her father sits in his usual spot, sipping coffee and reading the morning paper, while her mother hums softly by the stove, flipping pancakes. It's a scene of perfect normalcy—yet the air between them hums with tension.

As she settles into her seat, her mother glances over with a tight smile. "I made pancakes today, syrup's on the table." Her voice shifts slightly as she adds, "And make sure you eat a good lunch, you'll need your strength for the training tonight."

"Training?" Stella echoes, barely processing what has been said. "What—"

Her father doesn't look up from the paper, his voice sharp as he cuts her off. "Eat."

The single word, curt and unyielding, stifles any further questions. She picks up her fork, eyes lowered and begins to eat in silence. Every bite tastes like chalk, her mind spinning with the implications of what her mother said. Training? What kind of training?

The silence stretches as she finishes her meal, her parents' expressions unreadable. When the sound of the bus pulling up outside breaks the stillness, her mother hands her a bookbag and catches her gaze, her tone low but insistent. "Remember, Stella—no talk of what you know, not to anyone. Do you understand?"

Stella swallows hard, feeling the weight of the unspoken threat in her mother's eyes. "Yes," she murmurs, and Nyasha's expression softens as she adds, "Good, now have a nice day."

Stella manages a small, wry smile before slipping out the door and heading to the bus.

(Meanwhile in the House)

Nyasha closes the door, leaning back against it as if it's holding her up. Shaka finally puts down his coffee, his gaze fixed on her. "Are you ready for what's to come?"

Nyasha lets out a shaky breath. "Do we have any choice anymore?"

He shakes his head grimly. "No… The basement is almost ready. I just need to lay down the expanding formation and reinforce the barrier, and then we can start, but I'm to have to break her seal if we're to make any progress, once I do, the whole realm will know."

Nyasha nods, resigned. "I'll speak to our contacts, but even with protections in place, there's only so much we can do. Her resonance will announce her awakening, no matter what we try."

Shaka's jaw tightens. "Then we make it clear—we're done playing games with anyone who tries to interfere."

As he stands to head to the basement, he pauses, glancing back. "You know we'll need to contact the President, we've been safe this long because of him, but we'll need his help to fend off intruders from beyond the realm."

Nyasha's shoulders sag as though the weight of his words has aged her by a decade. "But we have nothing to exchange with him."

"We do…"

Her eyes flash with something almost defiant. "Don't even think of suggesting that. It's the family's secret—if I gave him those techniques, I'd be disowned."

Shaka shrugs. "Then find something else, we've only got until she's back from school."

Nyasha closes her eyes, rubbing her temples as she racks her mind for alternatives, after a moment, she straightens, grabs her coat, and steps outside, her face set with a new resolve.

(On the Bus)

Stella takes her usual seat beside Rachel, her friend's concern evident. "You look… off Stella, did your parents find out about yesterday?" Rachel whispers.

Stella's lips pressed together tightly. Rachel's warm gaze, filled with worry, tugs at her, but she hesitates, weighing her words. "I can't tell you," she says at last. "Or… not yet at least."

Rachel's brow furrows, hurt flashing across her face. "We're best friends Stella, what's going on that you can't tell me?"

Stella reaches out, her voice low. "Rachel, please, this is for your own protection, it's about more than you think. If I told you, this rea—" Her words catch mid-sentence as a searing, burning sensation flares across her back, intense and unforgiving, stopping her in her tracks.

Rachel's hands fly to Stella's shoulders, eyes wide with alarm. "Stella! Are you okay? What happened?"

Stella nods shakily, willing the pain to subside as she wipes sweat from her brow. "I'm fine. Just… just trust me, okay? This is for your own good." She forces a weak smile, but Rachel's worried gaze doesn't waver.

Rachel squeezes Stella's hand, understanding but tense, and they sit in silence for the rest of the ride, each wrapped in their own uneasy thoughts.

Rahcel turns back to her, "Let's talk about the forest, after I got home, I expected to see something on the news about what happened, but there was nothing not even a whisper, this is a crazy level of control."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the ground shook, and there was a large battle just outside of a rural town, you wouldn't except there to at least be a small news article about it."

Stella's eyes widen, "you mean that the people that we came in contact with have control of the news?"

"More than that, they have control of large groups and maybe even the police. We have to go back today and see if everything is still there."

"I can't, my father says that he has… something planned for me later." Stella says, choosing her words precisely.

"You're already in punishment, you might well take this risk, there is nothing more they can do to you."

"I'm not so sure about that anymore, but you're right we have to see how far this goes."

"Should we ask someone else for help?" Rachel suggests.

"Who else can help us, I'd imagine that once someone tries to bring this to light they'll suppress them."

The image of a boy with white hair appears in her mind, but it quickly passes, no, I can't tell him

"What about Ameila at the newspaper?"

"I could try, but the more I say this out loud the crazier that I sound, imagine how she'll take it?"

"You can phrase it as though it's something that you heard from a passerby during your investigation?"

Rachel thinks on it, "that could work but I'm going to have to review this carefully, as not to sound crazy"

"Good, at least we have a possible route that we can go through."

"We'll see about that later, I'll get back to you with the info after classes."

They end their conversation there and gaze blankly at the retreating outside.

(In Mrs. Eliot's Class)

Stella slips into her seat, her mind still spinning, only to find Theo watching her intently. She raises an eyebrow, trying to mask her unease. "Is there something on my face?"

"I guess they told you," he says, voice low and knowing.

"Who? What are you talking about?" Her voice wavers slightly, and she hates that he seems to notice.

He smirks, leaning in just enough to unsettle her. "Your aura's different—heavier than yesterday. Someone either pressed their aura onto you, or… you're a cultivator yourself. You don't show signs of practice, so it must be the former."

A chill runs down her spine. 'How does he know?' She glances around, half-expecting others to be watching her too, but Theo's gaze pulls her back. "You can relax. I'm the only cultivator here, no one else can sense it," he says coolly. "I thought it'd take until the resurgence for you to notice our world. Guess your parents aren't as discreet as they think."

"Don't talk about my parents," she snaps, her voice sharp. "And how much do you actually know?"

Theo's eyes gleam with amusement. "More than you think," he murmurs, leaning closer. His gaze, sharp and unyielding, holds hers, as if waiting for her to flinch.

She hesitates, trying to keep her expression steady. "Then tell me something, if you're so informed."

He studies her for a moment longer, a calculating look in his eyes, before he straightens and leans back with a small smirk. "Maybe I will… but not yet, some things are worth more than you realize."

He taps his fingers lightly against the desk, as though punctuating his own silence, and then adds in a softer voice, "You'll understand soon enough, just make sure you're ready."

Stella watches him carefully, frustration and intrigue mingling as she waits for him to give more. But Theo only returns his attention to the front, leaving her in tense, unanswered silence.

'What world have I stumbled into?'