Harold couldn't understand a word of what was written in the book—which appeared to be some kind of journal—but he had a strange feeling that it was important. He had stayed up for nearly an hour the previous night, flipping through the pages slowly and carefully to see whether anything there was written in English, the saving grace that would help him to understand what was going on inside the book.

But there was nothing.

It was all written in that same unfamiliar hand, which, the more Harold looked at it, looked less and less like any modern language he knew. When he had finally given up on trying to decrypt it, he set the journal down on his night table, and turned his attention to the other matter that had been bothering him: how it had ended up in his room in the first place.

The Dorm doors at Helix were not permitted to be locked, so that the teachers could perform random spot checks and ensure that nothing was amiss, so there was no question that the perpetrator could have easily snuck in. But the real question was, who had put it there, and why?

He felt violated. Someone had invaded his personal space and left a marker of their time in here, and he didn't like it.

Why on Earth did someone feel it appropriate to sneak into his room and leave a random journal that he guaranteed they were fully aware he couldn't read in his bed? But it was then that a truly disturbing theory flowered in his mind. He remembered how someone had apparently been looking for something in Daniell's bedroom. Could the journal have been what they were looking for, and they had hidden it inside Harold's room to—

To what? Stir trouble? Was it really just a silly prank after all?

He exhaled deeply. His brain was too tired to process any of this. That was tomorrow's problem. He threw himself back into bed, pulled up his covers, laid his head across the pillow, which felt much more comfortable without the book inside it, and fell asleep.

It was the first time he could sleep in in peace all week. Harold lay there in bed, dreaming, while the sun rose beyond the window, shining its brilliant light upon the world below, and the students spilled out onto the grounds around them. At last he awoke, just before noon, yawning and stretching contentedly.

A pleasant dream instead of nightmares, and a long nap. The morning was already off to a good start. Or so he hoped. He knew all too well how easily things could go sour on any given day, especially in his life.

Pulling out fresh pieces of clothing, he ambled to the bathroom, washed, and emerged from the cold shower feeling lighter and more relaxed than he had all week, without the thought of classes weighing him down. He had missed breakfast, as he usually did on weekends, but lunch was supposed to be done by this time. A scanty number of students were still in the canteen when he arrived, talking and laughing.

He wolfed down his meal, then stepped outside to enjoy the sunshine. People all around called to him as he walked, and he returned their greetings with enthusiasm.

The sea glittered brightly around the island, as if diamonds had been scattered across its face. The sky was a clear, brilliant blue, and a cool breeze swept through the courtyard. Perfect weather conditions. Which only served to reinforce Harold's suspicions that today was not meant to be a good one.

He strolled through the schoolyard, passing students bundled under trees or around benches, and made his way to the Combat Field. It was a large stretch of empty land where they typically held their Combat classes, but on days such as this where they had no lessons, the students used it for their own leisurely activities. The teachers didn't seem to mind, so long as they kept it in good order.

Harold pulled open the gates and emerged into a sea of ankle-high grass. Students lined the grass along the left side, talking and looking over at a number of other students that were on the field to their right, who appeared to be about to start a game. He spotted Jimmy among them, then walked over to him.

"Finally up, are you? Thought you'd never get out of bed," Jimmy said, grinning.

"I wanted to sleep in. What's going on?"

"Playing Powerball." Jimmy pointed to the center of the field. One of the boys standing there was familiar, a fourth-year by the name of Kaleb. Another year-rounder, who was holding a glowing red sphere similar to the one they had used in Gym Class.

He noticed Harold looking. "Up for a game, Farwell?" he called. "We were just picking teams."

"Where to?" Harold asked.

"Lower side." Kaleb pointed to the other end of the field.

"Looks like we're on opposite sides," said Jimmy.

Harold smirked. "Scared?"

"Of you?" Jimmy said, with an expression of mock-incredulity. "A monkey could put up a better fight than you. Oh wait..."

"That's it, you're going down, Goodwin." Harold shrugged off his jacket and raced down to the other side of the field, where they quickly pointed out who his teammates would be and offered him a tub of yellow paint to mark two slashes on his cheeks, the distinctive marker of their side. Then he took up a position on the right side of the field.

The objective of Powerball was to carry the ball into the enemy's territory and score a goal, thereby earning points. Each side had a total of three Strikers, who rushed forward to score the goals, and two Defenders, who protected the goals. Harold was one of his team's Strikers. It sounded simple enough, but the ball itself could move on its own, and when not held down it simply whizzed uncontrollably around the field like a loose firework. Then there was the field itself. Like many other regions of the Academy, it was technologically enhanced to create an alternating environment and randomly produce obstacles that served to obstruct the players.

The fun part was that all players were allowed to use their powers, which usually resulted in some chaos, many injuries, and a very upset Nurse Alloway.

Harold loved it.

The captains of the team stood in front of the large, hand-drawn circle in the center of the field, where the ball lay inactive in the middle of the ring. A moment later, one nudged it with his foot.

The dull grey ball lit up a brilliant red and took to the air. Kaleb lunged at it, but it swooped out of his reach and took off down the other side of the field. A girl with auburn pigtails on Jimmy's side disappeared in a small flash of light, then reappeared just in front of the ball. She snatched it out of the air and darted forward, the other two Strikers moving with her.

Harold and his peers leapt forward. But the field immediately responded. Gigantic pillars of stone burst upwards, and his other teammates only narrowly avoided slamming into them, diving to the sides. One of them seemed to have hit his ankle, and rushed off with a hiss of pain.

But Harold plowed straight through his, dissolving it in a cloud of stone and dust.

The teleporter saw him barreling towards her and fear clouded her face for a moment; she wheeled around and threw the ball to another Striker, who jumped and—Harold stood stunned for a moment, wondering if he was seeing things—wings sprouted from his back. They were large and flat, shaped like the wings of a moth, but prismatic in colour and seemed to be woven from light. He took to the air and soared over their heads, his wings shimmering.

One of the Defenders on Harold's side darted forward as the winged boy swooped into their territory. His eyes burned scarlet, and then bursts of energy erupted from his pupils. The beams of light and heat sheared through the wings, causing him to plummet.

A bubble of air came sliding smoothly underneath him and cushioned his fall, but his grip loosened on the Powerball and it zoomed away.

Another Striker on Harold's team, a tall black girl who had tied back her hair in a long plait, jumped to the side of one of the pillars and kicked off, spinning gracefully through the air. She caught the ball and landed lightly, while the other students screamed and cheered in the background. She sprinted ahead, dodging Strikers and closing in on the other Defenders.

Jimmy did a quick but subtle slicing movement with his arms and a burst of wind rippled through the grass and swept her off her feet, sending her tumbling to the ground. The ball rose again, but Jimmy guided it towards himself by inverting the air currents like a funnel.

Harold dove forward. Jimmy leaped back as Harold hurtled towards him, but the ground suddenly shifted, rotating like some kind of immense, grassy saucer.

Harold spun off balance with a yell of "Woah!" but Jimmy merely rose upwards, floating above ground on an air current. The ground settled, and Harold felt the temperature drop. He looked up and saw Jimmy taking a deep breath—then a huge plume of bluish-white gas flew from his mouth and washed over Harold. It immediately hardened, solidifying into a sheet of ice than pinned him to the floor.

Jimmy winked and flew off. Harold pushed off from the ground with tremendous force, and ripped through the ice, then clapped, as forcefully as he had when he had fought the hornets. The shockwave blasted Jimmy out of the air, and knocked the surrounding Strikers away.

The ball came soaring towards him, but one of the Defenders jumped over him from behind, her hand enlarged to the size of a chair, and swatted it forward. It moved like a missile, pelting straight ahead so fast that no one could catch it, and it slammed into one of Harold's Defender's chests, knocking him and the ball into the goal.

Screams erupted from the stands. The first goal of the game had been scored. And only about three minutes had passed.

When the game had concluded at last, three hours later, they headed down to the showers, drenched in sweat and most of them mildly bruised, but smiling. After a quick shower, they changed and headed to the canteen, where they received a most pleasant surprise.

"Helen!" Harold and Jimmy said in unison, as they filled their trays and started towards their usual spots.

She looked completely fine, her sleek sheets of dark hair falling neatly around her head, her glasses perched on her face as she ate.

"I take it you missed me," she said, with a smug smile.

Harold rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop himself from smiling back. "So how are you? When did you get out?"

"Few hours ago. I've been awake since yesterday, but Nurse Alloway decided to keep me in till morning."

Harold frowned. She had been completely healed all this time, yet Girvan had prevented them from seeing her, saying she had not fully recovered. But Helen went on, "So, what did I miss?"

"Not much." Jimmy shrugged. "After you were hit with the toxin, we brought you topside. But Harold and Kierra had been separated from the group earlier and were still down there, so I went down there to find them. Tracked them with the GPS in his suit."

"Good thing he did, too," Harold said. "Kierra and I stumbled across the Blue Vipers when we were down there."

"What happened?" Helen asked, sounding alarmed.

"They kidnapped and tortured us," Harold said casually. "Well, mostly me. But it turns out, the Vipers think there are more Gargantuans out there—a lot more—and they're hunting them. Selling them to the highest bidder."

"That's horrible," Helen said. "But it explains why they were in the forest that night, looking for the gorilla....Well, thank goodness it got away before they caught it, but how do we know how many of them the Vipers caught before now? Or how many there are in the world in general?"

"We don't," Harold said. "Apart from the salamander, there's been no peep of any other. It went down with the mines, and several of the Vipers. But Girvan said he and the other teachers are looking into things. And when he does find anything, he'll put us back on the job. That is, if you're up to it," he added hesitantly.

She looked at him as if he had gone mad. "Of course I'm up to it! Why wouldn't I be? This isn't the first time things have gone sideways on a mission, why should I let that stop me?"

"Right on," Jimmy said happily, drumming the table.

Harold cracked a smile. But his thoughts were wandering again. No nightmares, a long nap, a happy, productive day, and now Helen was back in perfect health. It really had been a great day. And yet...he couldn't help but feel that something was off.

He simply didn't have great days. Good days. Mediocre days. Days that weren't as awful as they could have been. All yes. But today had been excellent from start to finish, and as morbid as it sounded, Harold was suspicious. But he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

Their footsteps pattered against the pavement as they ran. Rain fell in icy sheets around them, and ropes of lightning cracked against the murky black sky. He didn't know where they were running to, but he didn't have time to wonder. Ayana had grabbed his arm, and they were running, far and fast.

She jerked his arm and they turned down an alley, wet with rain and filled with the acrid smell of the large dumpster halfway down its length.

"Get in!" she said, stopping by the dumpster and throwing open the lid. The smell was disgusting, but he climbed in anyway, feeling every number of slimy, greasy things splatter against him as he pressed himself deeper into the contents of the bin. Ayana made to follow, but then the footsteps came. Her face loomed above him in the darkness, taut with fear, her hair plastered to the sides of her face.

"Stay here, and whatever happens, don't move. I love you."

He saw her lips form the words, but the sounds didn't register in his mind until she had shut the lid and backed away. His own heart was thudding too loudly in his ears. Darkness swallowed his vision. Only the smell remained. And the sound outside. The pounding rain, and footsteps. Heavy and slow and deliberate.

Outside, as the footsteps descended, he heard Ayana shout, "Who are you? What do you want?"

There was no response. The footsteps simply drew nearer.

"We haven't done anything! Why are you following us?"

Still no reply.

"Answer me!" Ayana screamed.

The footsteps finally halted. He opened the lid a fraction and peered out through the sliver of space at the alley. Ayana was cowering against the wall, staring at someone else a few feet away.

He couldn't see much of the man's figure. He was tall and swathed in black, and he didn't speak.

Ayana held out her hands. Fire sparked from her palms, blazing upwards, unaffected by the rain licking at her skin. The orange light illuminated her face, scared yet determined. He saw the man pull something from his jacket, a flash of bright blue light, and Ayana screamed again.

He slammed the dumpster lid shut. There was a terrifying, piercing wail, then a sickening thud, and finally, silence.

He was shivering. Tears started flooding from his eyes. He hoped the man was gone, that Ayana would be coming back to him any moment now....

The dumpster lid flew open once more. But it wasn't Ayana who stood there.

He screamed.