Dad was sitting in the same chair by Rell's bed, his posture unchanged since I'd left the room last night.

  The only difference was the medical equipment that had appeared around him—monitors displaying vital signs I didn’t understand, an IV bag filled with something that looked like liquid silver, and three different syringes laid out in a neat row, each containing fluid of a different color.

  "What the hell is all this?" I asked, stepping into the room.

  Dad didn't look up. "Monitoring equipment. Her infection is rather aggressive."

  "That doesn't look like standard medical gear." I picked up one of the syringes. The liquid inside shifted like it was alive, coiling around itself in lazy spirals. "This looks like something that belongs to the SDC or one of the houses."

  "Put that down." Dad's voice was sharp. "Some of my colleagues provided specialized equipment."

  Rell looked worse.

  The webbing beneath her skin had spread across her entire body, and where it touched the surface, her flesh had taken on a silvery sheen. Her breathing came in quick, shallow gasps, and occasionally her fingers would twitch, like she was trying to grab something only she could see.

  "She's in full Signal integration," Dad said, finally looking up at me. The bags under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept at all.

  "The primary nervous system is being rewired to accommodate dimensional awareness."

  "In normal people's language?"

  Dad almost smiled. "Her brain is being rebuilt to handle powers that would drive an unmodified human insane."

  "So she's... becoming Sacred? Is this normal?"

  "There's nothing normal about Sacred transformation," Dad replied, checking one of the monitors. "But yes, this is the process. Most people don't see it happen—the infected usually vanish into their Trial dimension before physical changes become this pronounced."

  I sat on the edge of Rell's bed and took her hand. Her skin felt electric, like touching a live wire wrapped in silk. "Why hasn't she been pulled in yet?"

  "That's what concerns me." Dad stood and stretched, his back cracking audibly. "Her Signal readings are off the charts. By all accounts, she should have transitioned hours ago."

  "Maybe we should take her to a SDC facility—"

  "No." The word came out like a slap. Dad composed himself quickly. "No SDC. They'd take her. Study her. The abnormality would interest them too much."

  Before I could argue, Rell's eyes snapped open.

  They were completely changed now—copper irises with crimson rings pulsing around the pupils. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, then turned to look at me with perfect clarity.

  "Fish?" Her voice sounded normal. Completely normal. Like she'd just woken up from a nap.

  "Hey, Rell." I squeezed her hand. "How are you feeling?"

  "Like my skin is two sizes too small and someone's poking my brain with hot iron rods." She sat up, looking around the room with obvious confusion. "What's with the mad scientist setup?"

  Dad moved to her side, checking her pupils with a penlight. "You're experiencing a Sacred transformation. Do you remember what happened last night?"

  "I had nightmares." She touched her arm, tracing the silvery lines visible beneath her skin. "About doors. And darkness. And something waiting to come through." Her eyes widened. "It wasn't a nightmare, was it?"

  Dad sighed, putting down the penlight. "I think we need a family meeting. Now."

  We gathered around our kitchen table, the same one where we'd eaten thousands of meals together. It felt surreal to be sitting there discussing Rell's transformation like we were deciding what to have for dinner.

  Dad had made coffee. The rich aroma filled the apartment, almost making things feel normal. Almost.

  "Rell's Sacred Signal has fully activated," Dad began, setting down his mug. "Normally, this would mean immediate transportation to a personalized Trial dimension—a pocket reality where she would face challenges based on her deepest fears and traumas."

  "That's the standard process," I said. "Everyone knows this."

  "Yes, but Rell's case is unusual." Dad leaned forward. "Her Signal readings are extraordinary—potentially Legendary tier."

  Rell and I exchanged glances. Legendary Origins were incredibly rare—maybe one in a million Sacred manifested abilities of that caliber.

  "How can you possibly know that before she even goes through her Trial?" I asked.

  Dad hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device that looked like a crystal compass. "This is a Signal reader. It is experimental SDC technology, not available to the public."

  "You stole SDC tech?" Rell asked, sounding both impressed and concerned.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Let's say I've borrowed it." Dad placed the device on the table. The needle spun wildly whenever it pointed toward Rell. "It measures potential Origin strength. I've only seen readings like this three times in my life."

  "So what's the problem?" I asked. "Shouldn't we be celebrating? My sister's going to be a badass Sacred with a Legendary Origin."

  "The problem," Dad said gravely, "is that the higher the potential, the more difficult the Trial. And Rell's Trial will be..." He trailed off.

  "Potentially fatal," Rell finished for him.

  Dad nodded. "There's more. The Signal seems to be manifesting physical changes before your Trial dimension has formed. That's extremely rare. It suggests your Origin is already trying to express itself."

  "Is that why I feel like there are thousands of tiny creatures moving under my skin?" Rell asked, rubbing her arms. "Like they're trying to get out?"

  Dad's expression changed—just for a moment—before settling back into concerned neutrality. But I caught it. Recognition. He knew exactly what she was experiencing.

  "Yes. Your Origin is parasitic in nature. It's attempting to establish a presence before you've even completed your Trial."

  "So what do we do?" I asked.

  "The Trial could trigger at any moment, and when it does, Rell needs to be ready. The physical manifestations suggest it will happen within the next twelve hours."

  Rell stood too, steadier on her feet than I would have expected. "Then let's get ready. I'm not dying in some pocket dimension. I'm coming back."

  The determination in her voice made me believe her. But the fear in Dad's eyes made me doubt.

  The next few hours were a blur of preparation. Dad vanished into his study, emerging with equipment I'd never seen before—specialized Regalia designed to help with Trial survival.

  "These aren't standard issue," I observed, examining a bracelet made of liquid metal frozen in mid-flow. "Where did you get all this stuff?"

  "I've been collecting for years," Dad replied without looking up from the case he was packing. "Just in case."

  Just in case what? I wanted to ask, but something told me I wouldn't like the answer.

  Rell sat cross-legged on our living room floor, practicing meditation techniques Dad had taught her. The silvery lines beneath her skin pulsed with her heartbeat, and occasionally, when she lost concentration, small bulges would appear and move across her skin like creatures trying to escape.

  "It's getting worse," she said when she caught me watching. "I can feel them. Thousands of tiny... presences."

  "Can you control them?"

  She closed her eyes, concentrating. A moment later, a small bulge appeared on her forearm, moving deliberately up to her wrist, then back down again. "Sort of. They respond to my thoughts, but it's like... like trying to control a swarm of bees with just your mind. They have their own wants."

  "What do they want?" I asked, sitting beside her.

  Rell opened her eyes, and the copper-crimson irises seemed to swirl with thoughts that weren't entirely her own. "To spread. To copy. To become more."

  "That's... creepy as hell."

  She laughed, and it was still my sister's laugh, warm and genuine. "I know, right? But it doesn't feel creepy from the inside. It feels... right. Like I've discovered I had a second set of lungs my whole life and I'm finally learning to use them."

  I couldn't imagine what she was going through.

  The Sacred transformation was supposed to be private—a personal journey through trauma to power. No one was meant to witness the physical changes, the struggle before the Trial. It felt invasive, watching my sister's body betray her secrets.

  "Promise me you'll come back," I said suddenly.

  Rell's expression softened. "Fish—"

  "No, I mean it. Promise me. Whatever nightmare dimension you get sent to, whatever fucked-up challenges you face, you fight through it and you come back."

  "I promise." She reached out and took my hand. Where our skin touched, I felt a strange tingling, like static electricity. "And when I get back, I'll be different. Stronger. I'll be able to protect us both."

  "That's my job," I protested.

  "Maybe we can share it." She smiled, but the smile faltered as a wave of pain crossed her face. She doubled over, gasping.

  "Rell?" I grabbed her shoulders. "Dad! Something's happening!"

  Dad rushed in from his study, a device in his hand. The needle was spinning wildly, the crystal at its center glowing bright enough to cast shadows.

  "It's starting," he said. "The Trial dimension is forming."

  Rell straightened up, her breathing ragged. "I can feel it. Like a door opening inside my head."

  "What do we do?" I asked, panic rising in my throat.

  "We can't do anything," Dad replied, his voice eerily calm. "This is her journey now."

  "But the preparations—"

  "Were to give her the best possible chance." Dad knelt beside Rell, taking her free hand. "Remember everything I taught you. Trust your instincts. The Trial will try to break you by using your greatest fears against you. Don't let it."

  Rell nodded, her eyes clear despite the pain. "I won't."

  "Wait," I said. "We need more time. We need—"

  "We don't get to choose, Fish." Rell squeezed my hand. "No one does. That's what being Sacred means. The Signal chooses, and we either survive or we don't."

  The air around her began to shimmer, like heat rising from pavement. The silvery lines beneath her skin brightened, and for a moment, I thought I could see through her as if she were a living x-ray.

  "I'll be waiting," I promised. "Right here. When you come back."

  She smiled. "I know you will."

  Then her body seemed to fold in on itself, collapsing into a point of light that hung in the air for a heartbeat before vanishing with a sound like a distant thunderclap.

  The room felt suddenly empty, like all the air had been sucked out along with her.

  Dad stood, pocketing the device. "Now we wait."

  "How long?" I asked, still staring at the spot where my sister had been.

  "Impossible to know. Time moves differently in Trial dimensions. Could be hours for us, days for her. Could be the opposite."

  "And if she doesn't come back?"

  Dad's face was expressionless. "Then we mourn. And we continue."

  Something about his tone sent a chill through me. It wasn't the voice of a father worried about his daughter. It was the voice of a researcher discussing an experiment with an uncertain outcome.

  "I need some air," I said, standing abruptly.

  Dad nodded. "Be back by sunset. We should have dinner together. As a family."

  "She might not be back by then."

  "I know." His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw something calculating in them. "But we'll set a place for her anyway."

  I walked the streets of Freetown in a daze, barely noticing where I was going. My feet carried me to Old Town, to the exact spot where we'd seen the street performer with the Mimic Origin.

  The square was empty now, just a few tourists taking photos of the ancient buildings.

  I sat on a bench, watching people pass by. How many of them were Sacred? How many had survived their Trials and returned changed? You couldn't always tell by looking—some Origins left no visible mark.

  A distant siren wailed—the familiar three-tone pattern of a minor surge alert. People around me barely reacted, just checked their phones for the location and continued with their day when they confirmed it was in another district.

  I wondered what Rell was facing right now. What horrors had the Trial dimension conjured from her deepest fears? Was she fighting for her life while I sat here feeling sorry for myself?

  My phone buzzed. A message from Dad: "Come home. Dinner in an hour."

  I sighed and stood. Whatever was happening to Rell, I couldn't help her. All I could do was be there when—if—she returned.

  As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. A flicker of movement too fast to track properly. I spun around, scanning the square.

  Nothing.

  But for a moment, I could have sworn I'd seen a small figure—human-shaped but only about a foot tall—darting between the benches.

  A figure with Rell's face.