Prologue

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Warnings: Mentions of anxiety/panic attack, swear words

Prologue

The green power coin embedded into the ocean floor, just as it had the first time the Rangers had fallen. With every ounce of power Rita Repulsa had, she ordered the coin to only find the weak minded, to latch onto their soul and corrupt them with the power that had once seduced her.

It was like a compulsion, your body moving without your control as your legs carried you toward the harbour.

It had happened at school, third-period history to be exact. You couldn't get out of the presentation, your nerves already getting the best of you as your voice hardly reached the back of the class as you spoke.

You could've sworn some of your classmates were whispering about you, maybe even laughing. It was the chest tightening pain you felt as panic set in, your hands shaking by your sides.

Jessica DiAngelous has made a remark that she couldn't hear you, which only made things worse.

The first wave of the anxiety attack hit you, unable to breathe or make coherent sentences as the room around you moved faster.

Then came the second wave, sheer and utter unexplainable panic.

"So-sorry I just-" you couldn't finish your words, the only thing you could manage to do was collect your things and bolt out of the classroom.

You were a prisoner of your own mind whenever your anxiety got the best of you.

To clear your mind and drown out the looping memory of what had happened in class, you made your way to the Harbour, the crash of the waves against the docks being a calming noise to focus on.

You hated it.

You hated what it did to you, how it made you feel. You were your own worst enemy, but you were a perfect pawn in Rita's game.

And so, the power coin chose you, presenting itself as a hypnotic green glow beneath the raging waters. It called to you, beckoning you to dive down and be engulfed by its power.

It's power giving you new air to breathe as you swam closer and closer to the rocky depths. Your fingers lacing around the flat, green gem, quickly being consumed by its light.

With a sharp inhale, you sat up in your bed, frantically looking around, unsure if you were dreaming or not. With blood covered fingers, you raised your hand. You hand tightly wrapped around the stone from your dream.

Except it wasn't a dream.

Malachite (Jason Scott x Reader)Where stories live. Discover now