Something had definitely gone off-script. For the last few minutes, she’d been stuck alone, wading through weeds and crumbling ruins in this abandoned factory that looked straight out of a horror movie under the light of dawn. Sure, it was the perfect wild spot for training—no one to interrupt—but seriously, was it necessary to go this far? Giona and Giacomo were scouting ahead while she tiptoed along behind, keeping her cool and guarding the cauldron. Rule number one of Steal the Light: caution. That thing could make or break you.

  Every now and then, she’d catch the faint rustle of grass, a shadowy flicker near the walls, or maybe a twig snapping somewhere distant. Just enough to put her on edge, but not enough to piece together what might be lurking in the room ahead, still out of view. And then there was the constant reminder in her head—sounds like that, especially when shared with a “hunter” (the MVP offensive role played by Predators like Giona), could lead to an illumination. And if that happened—bam—you were out. Game over.

  But there was no hiding in a corner pretending not to hear or smell anything out of fear. This was Steal the Light, and it was all about grabbing that cauldron. No guts, no glory. You had to keep moving forward.

  Her squad? Champions. Aggressive, relentless—total game dominators. She, the brains behind the operation, had earned her reputation as an ace “Navigator.” Giona? Probably the best Predator of the year. Giacomo? Another great Predator and Giona’s perfect wingman—though, let’s face it, Giacomo’s pride would never let him admit that.

  Suddenly, a loud thud yanked Anastasia out of her thoughts. She flinched, mentally kicking herself for zoning out so long. Eyes darting around—nothing. The room still looked deserted, and she couldn’t spot any movement beyond the openings leading to other sections of the decayed building. Whatever was going down up ahead, it seemed like a cautious, tactical battle for now.

  Sliding as stealthily as she could along the scratched-up walls, she kept pushing toward the opposing Guardian. Progress was key—always was. Using Navigation, she could sense Giona and Giacomo’s vibes. They seemed calm, even buzzing with the thrill of the game, but no danger so far.

  Then, she spotted a massive column hooked to a crumbling wall about two meters high. Crows cawed somewhere far above, their screeches carried by the wind—a bad omen, too many shareable sounds. The light here had shifted, becoming less rosy, almost unnatural, streaming through a crack in the ceiling instead of the usual eastern glow. Her instincts pinged immediately: they had to be in a large space, maybe an old warehouse stripped of its roof. Open field—bad news. Limited spots to hide. This was where the action was.

  Her mind raced. If anyone was hiding out for an ambush, they’d probably be behind that column. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed no one had snuck past her. She strained to catch sounds drifting on the wind, but everything seemed still, eerily silent. Off in the distance, she could faintly catch the hum of motors from a road miles away—but even the tiniest sensation could lead to a connection and, worse, illumination.

  She crouched low, moving silently, and peered beyond the column behind the broken-down wall. Nothing nearby, but when she scanned the far side of what seemed like a massive hangar, her stomach sank. Right at the entrance to the third room, Giacomo sat cross-legged, an idiotic expression plastered across his face, arm stiffly raised. Damn it. He’d been illuminated. Out of the game.

  That left Giona on his own—possibly against three opponents. She tried Navigating into his mind but hit a blank wall. He had to be locked into a duel, laser-focused, nothing else registering in his head. No time to waste. Anastasia bolted for the next room, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

  The moment she crossed the threshold, she saw him. Giona, squared off against his rival.

  Predator duels were brutal but mesmerizing—every single time. Both players moved deliberately, tracing wide circles around each other, avoiding direct eye contact and hyper-focusing on every sensory detail—sounds, vibrations, temperature shifts, even scents. Anything shared between them could trigger an illumination. The slightest noise, or even accidental touch, could end it all. Attacking first was risky, too—if your opponent missed the sound or sensation, the illumination could backfire completely. Especially with scents; you had to factor in the wind’s direction. A breeze from behind might scatter the odor before it ever reached your target.

  She and Giona had drilled this scenario countless times during practice. Her teammate knew she’d have his back, but today, Anastasia wasn’t feeling it. Sure, she could distract his opponent—clap her hands, howl at the moon, whatever—but this wasn’t just anyone. The guy facing Giona was one of last season’s finalists, a certified beast.

  Two players from the other team were still missing, though. No trace of them yet. Had they already been illuminated? Or were they lurking somewhere, ready to pounce? Maybe they were hanging back, guarding the cauldron, waiting to catch her off-guard. Plenty of teams used that classic counter-strategy, relying more on sprint speed than illumination skills.

  It felt odd. She was completely exposed, but no one had come to stop her or block her from helping Giona. Weird. Giona would just have to manage on his own.

  So, the final opponent had stayed back to guard the cauldron, while Giona, in a brilliant move, had pulled his duel away from the threshold. The strategy clicked—it was all clear now. He’d isolated the other two players! If she rushed to back him up now, the other defender wouldn’t have enough time to block her.

  Damn, I totally blew it. What’s wrong with me?

  Too cautious, too far behind. But hey, their opponents had messed up even worse. Now, Anastasia had the chance to push forward, take the offensive, and leave them cornered defending the cauldron.

  Her mind zipped through a mental Rolodex of offensive strategies, each with quirky names like “elastic belt,” “cuckoo call,” or “fox hunt.” She settled on the latter—it was less risky, no glaring openings for counterattacks. But why stop there? She decided to spice it up by blending it with the “cuckoo call.”

  “Caw!” she shouted, just enough to grab attention. Maybe the guy dueling with Giona would flinch. But no, he stayed laser-focused, didn’t even turn his head. No illumination attempts either. Anastasia smirked—her shout was meant to be quick and sharp, impossible to lock onto. Anyone trying to illuminate would just waste it, making themselves an easy target. Textbook “cuckoo call,” rookie stuff, but effective as a distraction. That cry wasn’t only about unsettling Edoardo, her opponent—it was a message, bait for their third player. Time to lure him out of hiding. Fox hunt initiated.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  She pressed herself against the threshold, ears tuned for movement. Antonio, the third-year speed demon with an obsession for scooters and engines, burst into the room, roaring like his motorbike. She waited, unseen, grinning to herself—it was almost too easy. As he passed by, she reached out and tapped his shoulder. Illuminated. His face fell into a comical expression of defeat as he slumped to the ground, crossing his legs and raising his arm. Classic Steal the Light loser’s pose. Never gets old. One down, moving on.

  With only Edoardo and the Guardian left on their team, the stakes shot sky-high. Edoardo, realizing his peril, bolted toward Anastasia’s team’s cauldron, Giona hot on his trail. Meanwhile, Anastasia sprinted toward their opposing cauldron.

  The Guardian—the immobile linchpin tasked with guarding the cauldron and holding the secret phrase—wasn’t allowed to move or physically block opponents. Sure, they could resist illumination, but let’s be real, almost no one had mastered that level of skill. Not unless you were someone like Maria Rovelli. Illuminating him was cake. With the Guardian defeated, he muttered the secret phrase. Anastasia pivoted immediately and dashed for her team’s cauldron.

  This was Steal the Light at its core. Extract the secret phrase from the opposing Guardian and pass it through illumination to your own Guardian, who’d then have the right to yell it aloud and end the game.

  It was all but wrapped up. Still, instincts screamed at her to stay sharp. This was prime time for a last-ditch opponent to try illuminating her to extract the phrase, and run back to their Guardian. It was a sneaky move, borderline dishonorable, but undeniably effective. Not this time though—Edoardo was sprinting in the opposite direction, with Giona keeping him firmly under watch.

  She found the two locked in another duel near the cauldron. Clearly, Edoardo had gotten the phrase from their Guardian but had turned right into Giona. He was stuck. Anastasia, fully relaxed now, strolled toward the scene with a smug sense of victory. And then, the unexpected.

  Giona glanced her way when she was just steps away from the cauldron. That tiny moment of distraction cost him. Edoardo seized the chance, illuminating him in a heartbeat. Then Edoardo lunged at her—fast, close, within meters. She could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck. Her heart pounded as adrenaline exploded through her veins. With a burst of determination, she leapt forward—a meter was all she needed.

  She hit the ground belly-first, arm outstretched… Francesca, their Guardian, was right there, her knee within reach. Maybe just a centimeter too far—no, she brushed it!

  “‘Giona’s skills suck!’ All clear!” Francesca’s voice rang out loud and triumphant. Game over. They’d won.

  Anastasia exhaled deeply, collapsing onto the cold floor, face pressed against the gritty surface. She took a long breath before glancing back.

  All around her, the illuminated players shook off their trance-like state, still a little dazed, trying to piece together what had just happened. Anastasia stayed where she was, sprawled ridiculously on the ground, grinning like an idiot. Time seemed frozen, stuck on the final snapshot of the match.

  Edoardo broke the silence first. “No! No! No! I was so close!” He smacked his thighs in frustration, almost whining.

  Anastasia sat upright, crossing her legs, and burst into a fit of laughter. It was loud, joyful, and completely free.

  As “all clear” echoed in Giona’s ears, he snapped out of his trance. A quick scan of the scene told him everything he needed to know. His joy exploded, bouncing and twirling like a kid who just found the biggest candy stash. Before long, he crouched down to hug Anastasia. Seconds later, Giacomo joined them, all of them jumping and shouting, celebrating as if they’d just won a championship, while the defeated players huddled together, murmuring amongst themselves.

  Francesca, their Guardian, walked up with a smile. “That was close, huh?”

  “No way, we had it under control the whole time!” Giona replied, his optimism unshaken.

  Antonio sauntered up behind them, clapping a hand on Giacomo’s shoulder and another on Giona’s, offering his congratulations with a begrudging smile.

  Edoardo joined next, still catching his breath. “Good training match, right?” he said, wiping sweat off his forehead.

  “You guys are tough—great team,” Anastasia replied sincerely.

  “Sure, but we lost. There’s still room for improvement,” Edoardo admitted.

  “Why didn’t you guys double-team Giona?” Anastasia asked, always digging for tactical insights.

  “Yeah, why didn’t you gang up on me? Anastasia was too far to defend me,” Giona chimed in.

  “We figured she’d go straight for the cauldron,” Antonio explained. “I thought she’d duel me there, or if she came to help you, I’d have a clear shot at the cauldron. That’s it. No one’s faster than me.” He mimicked revving a scooter’s throttle, grinning.

  “Yeah, fastest to lose—real record-breaker, huh?” Everybody laughed at Giacomo’s remark. “Anyway, it was a risky move, but hey—we’re not here to play it safe, right?”

  “And you guys are champions for your offense,” Antonio added casually. “We weren’t about to let you crush us like that.”

  “Champions! Man, I love that word!” Giacomo’s ego soared as he rubbed his stomach. “It’s making me hungry—Champions deserve donuts! Double cream-filled—extra sprinkles. I’m talking top-tier snacks for a top-tier win! I think someone owes us breakfast!”

  Antonio slapped his shoulder, smirking. “For a chubby guy, you’ve got quite the personality. Almost makes up for it. Fine, breakfast’s on us.”

  “I’m not chubby!” Giacomo grumbled, his tone somewhere between annoyed and clueless. He pinched at his belly fat, trying to show it was all skin, but failing miserably, like Obelix arguing with his martial arts instructor.

  The teams headed out, laughing—some to bikes, others to scooters. “Meet you at the usual café?”

  “Of course! And rematch at darts is non-negotiable!”

  Antonio revved up his decked-out scooter, its body plastered with stickers. As the exhaust popped loudly, Anastasia smirked. Geez, does he love his scooter more than his own reflection? At least, this time, he remembered to wear his helmet.

  “Catch you at the café, slowpokes!” he shouted, kicking up a cloud of dust as he sped off.

  Anastasia grinned to herself. For over a year now, through both official tournaments and training matches, her team hadn’t lost once. No one could touch them—not this year, not ever. Or so it seemed.

  But then there was the looming punishment for the church incident, and that could become a real headache. Three days to face the music. If the rumors were true, it’d be the harshest punishment yet—no championship, no glory. Giona and Giacomo would whine for months, and she’d have to babysit their shattered egos all summer.

  Or was it about the dreams? So many of her schoolmates had talked about them—a massive game or maybe a battlefield? It was all so strange. There were countless boys and girls her age in the dreams, and then an Asian girl had appeared, radiating like the sun with all the planets orbiting around her. And there was this awkward boy alongside her—she’d never met him, but she felt an odd, unshakable connection to both of them. Who the hell were they? The thought clawed at her. And how could so many people be dreaming the exact same thing?

  She chewed on the possibilities. I know some Navigators can use dreams, but even I’m not at that level yet… Her mind raced. Navigating through the minds of tens, maybe hundreds of people at once? That’s top-tier skill. But still…

  The idea hung there, heavy and unresolved. Could the Grand Master want to talk to me about this? Could they think I— She cut herself off, shaking her head. Get over yourself, Anastasia. Maria Rovelli doesn’t need you.

  Her stomach growled loudly, yanking her back to reality and shattering her train of thought like a dropped glass. Right. Food.

  Whatever. Let future-me deal with it. For now, donuts and a cappuccino sound way better.

  “Let’s go,” she said to her teammates, still riding high on the victory.

  They hopped on their bikes and headed toward the city center and their favourite bakery.