Chapter Text
A Crowded Subway Car, New York City
A teenage girl stood gripping the metal rail of a packed subway car, swaying with the train’s lurching movements. She was no different from any other teen on her way home—hoodie, backpack, earphones in—except for the fact that, strapped tightly around her shoulder, was a short sword in a leather scabbard.
At first, no one noticed. Her “sword,” the Mist twisted to appear as an umbrella to passing eyes. As she casually ran her fingers along its hilt, glancing out at the faces around her, something felt… off. She had ridden the subway countless times, blending into the crowds and slipping in and out unseen. But today was different.
Across from her, a woman with a grocery bag stared openly, eyes flicking back and forth between the girl’s face and her “umbrella.” The girl’s pulse quickened as she caught the woman’s stare. She frowned, willing the Mist to strengthen its cover, to make the sword invisible.
The woman continued to stare, squinting as if she could see right through whatever illusion should’ve hidden the weapon. She looked up, meeting the girl’s gaze with something between confusion and dawning horror. The teenage demigod felt a chill crawl up her spine.
She gripped the strap of her bag tighter and ducked her head as the train screeched to a stop. The woman turned in her seat, watching her even as she slipped out the doors and into the darkened subway platform. Before they closed, the woman’s voice echoed after her, a single, startled question: “What the fuck?”
An Empty Road Outside of Nashville
The sun was setting over an empty stretch of road just outside Nashville, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. A middle-aged truck driver in his rig had pulled over to stretch his legs. Leaning against his truck’s cab, he glanced around at the endless fields on either side of the road. Quiet, isolated, no one around.
At least, that’s what he thought.
His eyes drifted to the trees in the distance, just as he caught a blur of movement—a young man, sprinting out of the forest with something large and menacing hot on his heels. The truck driver squinted, convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him. He could see the young man clearly, his face twisted in focus as he clutched a bronze dagger and looked back at the hulking figure chasing him. The creature was like nothing he’d ever seen, a towering form with a wolfish face, its skin mottled with scales and fur.
“Can’t be real,” the truck driver muttered to himself. But the scene didn’t vanish.
The young man charged forward, slashing the creature’s snout with his dagger. As the creature stumbled back, the truck driver could see a spray of dark green blood streaking across the grass. He shook his head, backing away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the scene.
Then the Mist reasserted itself, trying to hide the scene behind a weak illusion. The driver’s vision flickered. One moment, he saw the young man struggling against a towering, monstrous figure; the next, he stared at a lone jogger, nothing unusual about it.
The truck driver stumbled back to his rig, his heart racing, his mind whirling. But he knew he had seen something real, something terrifying. With shaking hands, he turned his truck back onto the road and drove, casting nervous glances back at the now-empty field.
A Café in Boston
A young man with messy hair and a weary expression sat alone at a small table near the back, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him. He stared at his phone screen, scrolling through emails from professors he had no intention of responding to. Another boring, exhausting Tuesday.
He didn’t see the monster slip through the café’s door, its twisted form hidden beneath a layer of the Mist that turned its scaled skin into an image of an old man with a cane. It slithered over the floor, muttering in a strange, rhythmic hiss. No one looked up. No one saw the clawed fingers peeking from under the creature’s “coat,” no one noticed as it scanned the room, smelling for the unmistakable scent of demigod blood.
But the Mist slipped, just for an instant.
The barista at the counter blinked, squinting, and suddenly she wasn’t seeing an old man at all. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of sharp, glistening teeth and golden eyes like coins in shadow. The creature’s form flickered, back and forth between the harmless image and its true monstrous shape.
A tremor of panic seized her as she watched it approach the young man. She wanted to scream, to warn him, but what would she even say? He looked up, and in a smooth, practiced motion, unsheathed a knife from under his sleeve. Before the barista could process what was happening, the creature was reduced to a pile of shimmering ash on the café floor.
The barista let out a strangled gasp, her body frozen with fear as the young man turned and noticed her. She stared at him, her mind unable to reconcile what she’d just witnessed. For a second, they locked eyes, the same unspoken question passing between them. Then he slipped the blade back up his sleeve and hurried out the door, leaving the girl staring at the pile of dust that hadn’t been there before.
An Office Building in Chicago
A corporate office late at night, mostly deserted except for a handful of employees working late. A security guard on the night shift sat at his desk, watching the feed of the building’s various security cameras. He rubbed his eyes, half awake, flipping through the dull, empty rooms when something on one of the screens caught his attention.
A young woman, barely more than a girl, was walking through the building’s dim corridors. She looked like an intern or a temp, carrying a stack of files in one hand. As she turned a corner, she nearly collided with a tall, armored figure—a man clad in bronze armor, his helmet shimmering faintly under the harsh fluorescent lights. The guard blinked, thinking it was a trick of the screen or a costume. But the soldier, whom the Mist had only half-concealed, looked too real.
The young woman’s face flashed with panic. She dropped the files, and they scattered across the floor. The bronze-clad figure bent down to help her, lifting the papers back into a neat stack with surprising gentleness, and she seemed to calm, if only a little.
But the security guard’s gaze was fixed on the sword hanging from the man’s side. He watched as the woman reached out to take the stack of papers, her hand brushing against his wrist. Then, as quickly as he’d appeared, the man turned and strode down the hallway, vanishing around a corner.
The guard rewound the footage, watching it again, and then again. Each time, the man was there, in full armor, clear as day. Even more unnerving, in the final frame before the figure disappeared, the man’s eyes seemed to meet the camera directly, his face calm, almost knowing. The guard’s heart pounded, and he wondered what he’d really seen—or if he should report it at all.