[ COMPLETED ]
BOOK 2 of the ORPHIC series
MONACHOPSIS
/ˈmənˌāˌkōpˌsis/
the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.
~~~~~
Lucille "Lucy" Opal Baker might be the unluckiest person...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I am burdened with glorious purpose."
Mexico March, 2012
SOMEONE WAS SHAKING HER BY the shoulders, saying her name. Lucy released a groan, rubbing her eyes with one of her hands. The person shaking her stopped, but she still felt motion sickness. She gagged, eyes fluttering open. She vaguely recognized Henry's face before shoving him back and throwing up. She retched, moving to her hands and knees as she coughed out her breakfast and lunch. She grimaced, the throw up on the floor dissolving into air, water replacing the vomit on her lips.
She blinked profusely, eyes flicking across the room. Destroyed desks were gone, the bodies of scientists burned. Everyone who'd been in the room had been evacuated. She was the only one left, apart from Henry and Pierce. God, Pierce. Her gaze shifted to the older man, who was crouched right next to Henry; both of them sported the same look of concern, one more human than the other.
The tesseract was just a few feet away from them, and it was quiet now—calm.
Lucy let her eyes shift around the room again and she inhaled sharply at the stabbing pain embedded beneath her irises. She was seeing everything, hearing everything, feeling everything. The lights were scintillating, too bright as they bounced off screens, tiles, wood.
She slowly raised her hands to her face, eyes widening at the blue hues of her veins, electric currents sparking across her palms and twisting together in tendrils of pure power. Her hands trembled as she moved to her feet, stumbling towards the nearest computer screen.
Pierce and Henry followed quickly, worried at her silence.
In the reflection of the screen she could see someone that looked just like her, but, at the same time, somehow completely different. Streaks of white had appeared across her hair, random locks of it empty of all color. Her eyes were glowing like the tesseract itself, irises completely arctic, pupils as white as snow.
She pivoted on her foot, turning to Henry and Pierce with a questioning gaze.
She was afraid.
"You touched the tesseract," Pierce started gently, "and it appears to have fueled your abilities. You are still the same."
His voice was so tender and soft she wanted to believe him.
"Did you—Did you know that would happen?" She whispered, grasping the desk until it cracked beneath her hands.
