DR. KWAME POV
The luxury boutique felt smaller the moment Adam spoke. The air, which had been filled with the scent of expensive leather and the fawning praise of the clerks, suddenly felt thin and pressurized.
I didn't turn around immediately. Thirty-six years of survival had taught me that looking back is the first sign of fear. Instead, I adjusted my cuffs, staring at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling gilded mirror. Behind me, Adam was a pillar of unnatural stillness, his dark eyes locked on a point somewhere in the vast, open atrium of the mall.
"Eve," I said, my voice steady. "Put the energy away. Now."
Eve's hand was still in his pocket, the fabric of his new slate-gray coat beginning to ripple as if caught in a localized vacuum. The shadows at his feet were darker than they should have been under the bright LED spotlights. He looked at me, a defiant spark in his eyes, but eventually, the vacuum subsided.
"How far?" I asked Adam.
"Seventy yards. Third floor, balcony near the clock tower," Adam replied without moving a muscle. "They aren't hiding their intent. It's... focused. Like a laser."
"Can you identify the Impulse?"
Adam closed his eyes for a split second, his chest rising as he took a deep, rhythmic breath. Because he was a Dark-born submerged in Light, his sensory range was twice that of a normal master. He could feel the 'purity' of others.
"It's Light Impulse," Adam whispered. "But it's not blue. It's Light-tier. Rare. It feels... cold. Like ice-water in the veins."
My heart sank. A Light-tier user—the 'Divine' level—was rare enough that they were usually high-ranking government enforcers or elite mercenaries. If someone of that caliber was following us, the 'quiet life' I had planned for the brats was already dead.
"We move," I commanded. "Bags to the car. Now."
I waved the clerks away with a sharp gesture. They didn't ask questions; the look on my face was enough to tell them that the 'Doctor' they were so eager to please was currently a very dangerous man. We exited the boutique, the three bellhops trailing behind us like a funeral procession, their carts rattling with our purchases.
The Aurelian Grand Mall was even more crowded now. It was the peak of the afternoon rush. Thousands of 'ordinary' people moved between stores, laughing, eating, and living lives that would be extinguished in seconds if a fight broke out between Impulse users of this level.
"Father, look," Eve muttered, nodding toward the glass elevator.
I followed his gaze. Standing by the railing of the third floor was a figure in a white tactical coat. They were lean, their face obscured by a high-tech visor. Even from this distance, I could see the faint, shimmering aura of Light Impulse (Rare) radiating off them. It wasn't the warm, life-giving light Adam had been submerged in; it was a harsh, blinding white that seemed to push against the atmosphere.
"They're signaling us," Adam said, his voice tightening. "They want us to see them."
"Ignore it," I said, though my pulse was hammering against my neck. "We reach the garage. We get into the sedan. Once we're on the open road, we deal with them."
We reached the valet circle in record time. The heat of the city hit us—a mix of exhaust fumes and the baking sun on the pavement. The valet brought the black sedan around, his eyes wide at the sight of the bellhops and the sheer volume of bags.
"Load it," I snapped, tossing him a hundred-dollar bill. "Fast."
As the bags were shoved into the trunk, I felt it. A sudden drop in temperature. The air around the valet circle seemed to crystallize.
Cling.
A small, white crystal—no larger than a coin—hit the hood of our car. It wasn't ice. It was solidified Light Impulse.
"Doctor Kwame," a voice rang out from above. It wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of authority.
I looked up. The figure in the white coat was standing on the edge of the mall's stone archway, forty feet above us. They didn't use a megaphone, yet their voice was clear, vibrating with the resonance of a high-tier user.
"You've been off the grid for a long time," the figure said. The visor shifted, scanning Adam and Eve. "And you've been busy. The Council doesn't appreciate unlicensed 'gardening.' Those two shouldn't exist."
Eve stepped forward, his face twisting into a sneer. "Who's the guy in the pajamas, Dad? Can I kill him?"
"Eve, back off," I warned.
"The boy has spirit," the figure said, leaping from the archway. They didn't fall; they glided down on a platform of shimmering white light, landing softly on the pavement ten feet from us. The valet and the bellhops scattered, screaming as they realized this wasn't a normal conversation.
"I am Sentinel Vance," the figure said, the visor retracting to reveal a man with hair the color of steel and eyes that glowed with a faint, artificial Light. "By order of the Impulse Oversight Committee, I am here to take the 'subjects' into custody for evaluation. You, Doctor, are under arrest for crimes against biological ethics."
Adam moved then. It was a slow, deliberate step that seemed to crack the pavement beneath his boot. The Dark Impulse within him, usually suppressed by the 'Divine' light he'd been bathed in, began to leak out. His eyes turned that terrifying, abyssal black.
"Subject?" Adam asked. The word didn't come from his throat; it felt like it came from the shadows beneath the cars. "You call us subjects?"
"Adam, don't," I said, but I knew it was too late. The 'Calm Storm' had been insulted.
"Father," Adam said, not looking back at me. "He's blocking the exit to the main road. And he's leaking that 'cold' light all over my new clothes."
Adam raised his hand. He didn't form a weapon. He simply pointed his index finger at Vance.
"Eve," Adam said calmly. "The left side is yours. I'll take the center."
Eve grinned, his teeth white against the darkening aura surrounding him. "About time. I was starting to think this mall trip was going to be boring."
I stood between my sons and the Sentinel, my own Golden Impulse beginning to thrum in my chest. I had spent thirty-six years protecting them from the world. Now, for the first time, I was going to see if the world could survive them.
"Vance," I said, my voice dropping an octave. "You should have brought more than one Sentinel."