The dial tone rang endlessly without answer, and my concern grew by the second.

This was my third attempt to contact home. I looked at the corded phone for a few seconds and finally gave up. A few possibilities hit me smack in the head straight off the bat.

Mom was being held by the SPBI and was being questioned by them.

The Unbound assholes had kidnapped her, ransacked our home and was holding her hostage. Likely in a bid to tempt me to their side.

Or it could be these fucking ASP society dick-bags. Claiming powers are an abomination on the soul, or some such nonsense. I remembered reading an article about them burning victims on pyre’s. Claiming that the fire would not touch them had their soul’s been clean.

Fucking arseholes.

Three factions. Two I already had problems with. The Unbound and the SPBI. The ASP society was a known potential problem.

But how do I solve current my crisis?

Turn myself in? to who?

The SPBI want to drug me full of Arium and throw me under the waves. The Unbound want to use me for something, possibly my lesser amplifying powers.

“What power?” I snorted derisively. I had no power. Not physical. Not metaphorical. So, I needed practice and I needed to learn the full extent of my abilities.

Telekinesis and Amplifying, the term’s came back to me.

“Most of your specific genome is segmented largely by this unknown factor that links you to the DNA print of Exemplar Z,” Judy’s words played back to me.

Which would mean my greatest effort should be to my supposed Telekinetic powers. As the genome sequence is already inherently large towards that end.

Which brought on the question.

What do I do afterwards? After I’ve learned how to use them. Run off and fight everyone and everything? Parade around showcasing my powers until someone finally snaps a collar around my neck.

Or I could look for mom. But in doing so I could draw attention towards her. I walked over and dialled home again. It rang endlessly, and then nothing.

I saw my reflection in the glass table covered in docking devices.

“Any plan I come up with will fail as soon as I walk out the front door,” I declared dejectedly. First, before anything else I needed to change my appearance. I found that the bathroom area had a full-body mirror.

I stripped naked and stared at myself. Noting small little changes about my person.

For one my figure seemed even leaner that it had been previously. I had never been a scrawny guy, but also not overly muscular.

Now I looked chiselled like a trained martial artist. After distracting myself with a few silly poses. I cleared my throat and focused.

Where to start? I remembered the first instance I’d taken my collar off after showering. My eyes had turned white and from there the starry-purple began to spread out. So were my eyes the epicentre of the change?

It was worth a try at least, and seemed far more doable than staring at a cup and thinking it to flip upside down. I focused intently on my eyes first, willing my focus to form the image of my natural hazel… I blinked and immediately lost concentration.

“Fucking damn it!” I hollered just this side of quiet. I was certain that if the Technomancer had camera’s set about my room, she chortling herself into a coma watching me.

For two frustrating hours I stared at myself and tried to think, “go back to normal.”

“Change back to how I was before I was purpled myself.”

“Think of brighter days, and clear your mind. And not-be-purple! Argh, fucking-dammit.”

Frustrated and annoyed I mimed punching the mirror for several seconds and stormed back to flop onto the bed. My head swam with the idea of looking like this forever. Would I be confined to living out of sight like Ophelia? Never to feel the wind on face. Or the ocean spray. To live underground like a hermit. Or to only come out at night and prowl the town looking for victims.

Why I would do that I didn’t know. But the mind has a tandem of running away with things.

Then I saw my mother’s face. The stark horror she felt at seeing me. Guilt washed over me then and I rolled over onto my side.

Maybe it was for the best I stay here, forever in that case. Her son so transformed that he lost her eyes. The same woman who had protected, nurture, consoled, counselled, and loved all these years. Would look at me and not even recognise me.

Tear’s welled in my eyes and I wiped them away. I fell asleep to the image of purple receding up my arm.

My dreams were a chaotic mash.

I saw the innocent family being riddled with bullets mercilessly. Their eyes were a glossy black as they watched me run away from them.

Their dead glares were accusatory as stared.

And rightfully so, I thought.

Then the Sentinel was towering over me ready to strike, and instead of a machete in its hand. The was a flaming pitchfork.

I screamed for Karen to save me. But she was there in the background, her spear now a trident. She was standing beside the family of four all baring wounds that bled freely.

All of them screaming, “do it. Kill him. Save us all.”

More and more voices joined the chant, and I shrank down as they grew taller. Mightier. Looming over me, blaming me for theirs deaths and the deaths to come. The flaming pitchfork hovered massively above me and I could not move. Nor could I run. Why should I escape me from this?

They were right to blame me. How many people were about to die because of my actions today?

The flaming pitchfork soared down towards me like some great missile plummeting to Earth. Earth? that word again. Emphasised by its capital ‘E.’

The city broke in two, and I sank beneath the waves. Surging ever downward at a speed so great I shot into pure black darkness.

Fear pooled into my heart unlike anything I had ever known. I close my eyes, but something compelled me to keep them open. Tear’s broke free and bubbled upwards. Then something moved in the blackness of the ocean. Something far greater than I could ever know.

A colossal hand pushed out through the darkness. It was made of a collection of different things and part of creatures most terrible. It shot towards me and I snapped my eyes shut just before a shockwave of great force washed over and battered against me.

Then a white light shone in the pure black depths. Even through my closed eyes I could the figure of a cross. No, not a cross, a person made of white light. Hovering before the grasping colossal hand. Each attempt it made to reach past her, hit a barrier and recoiled.

The hand finally closed into a fist and withdrew. The woman made of white light floated there serenely. Then out of the purest black breached the impression of an enormous face. Its visage monstrous and riddled by different conflicting parts.

I wasn’t sure why. But I got the impression they were speaking to one another. The monster in the pure black, stating it had a claim to me. Where the woman countered that the monster was reaching above his weight, attempting to cross the Astral into Claimed Branches of the great tree.

That her father would surely hear of the betrayer’s attempts. The monstrous visage raced forward at blinding speed shrinking down to man size, to tower no more than two feet above the woman made of white light.

The monster was made of different parts, always moving, and scuttling about. Changing into parts of different creatures, different beings, different untold and unseen horrors. But always something new, and always something different, different, different.

The monster looked past the woman of white light towards me. But before our eyes could meet, the woman floated before it blocking its view of me.

No words were exchanged, nor did there need to be. That was until the woman made of white light mention she her father by name. The instant her words began to pass her lips. The monster vanished into a swirled portal of darkness.

Then the woman turned serenely towards me, and raised her hand. Her voice spoke into my mind. “Rest now, young Sovereign. For the time grows close. We need not be bothered by distractions such as him.”

With that the pitch-black depths all around me softened.

I finally fell asleep.

~*~*~*~

I awoke the next morning feel tired and unrested. My eyes and mouth were as dry as coarse sandpaper. My fitful sleep had taken a toll on my body and mood. In fact it took me all of five minutes to realise that something was amiss.

Strange bed. Strange room, with no ceilings over the one high above. I shook my head, no that wasn’t it. I looked at arm’s and stared dumbfoundedly.

Suddenly everything rushed back to me and I clutched at my chest as I tried not cry. My head felt numb and scattered by my nightmarish dreams.

I could still hear them taunting and calling for me death. Blaming me for stuff that hadn’t even happened. Yet their accusations were righteous. I felt that in the depths of my soul.

I climbed weakly out of bed and stumbled around the partition into the bathroom. I cast a quick glance into the mirror to confirm that I was in fact back to normal, before rushing the toilet and throwing up.

The only thing I remembered eating yesterday was a bun for lunch.

Now I felt weak, pale, and sick. I needed help. And, I’m not afraid to admit it. I needed my mom. There was always soothing in knowing your mother was either there or nearby when you were ill. As long as she knew. You were safe.

I must’ve spent half an hour on the floor by the toilet, staring listlessly at the wall and shower door. Then I heard the front door to the house swish aside. I tried frantically to recollect my marbles and my dignity.

It was a waste of effort.

“Come on,” said someone. “Let’s get some water in you at least. Then put you back in bed. It’s only half past seven, so you’ve got plenty of the day yet to rest.”

“They blamed me,” I muttered warily. The words just slurred from my lips. “Blamed me for everything. The world cracked in half because of me.”

“Hush,” said the gentle soothing tones, and my world spiralled into their comforting caress. I fell silent and luxuriated in the light gently breeze against my sweat streaked face.

Water was offered to me, and I sipped minimally. The last few day’s had finally hit me. Ophelia rocked me gently back to sleep.

~*~*~*~

Take two on waking up.

I stretched and yawned. My face nestles comfortably in the glorious pillows beneath my head. Ophelia had been right in selecting this for me.

I rubbed my face against them and breathed in the warm coffee scent. A hand fluttered through my hair as I rubbed my face appreciatively deeper.

My head snapped up and I stared into angelic woman’s amber eye’s. My mouth gaped open and my eyes widened.

“O-Ophelia!” I gasped and tried to crawl away from her. Even while I glanced a thin trail of my drawl ran along the curve of her breast’s, slightly revealed by her parted satin robe.

Her wings lazily fluttering on one side behind her back. “Relax – relax – Eli. No harm was done. It’s okay, really. I came in early this morning and found you passed out. I’ve been here with you since.”

“O-oh, okay,” I replied smoothly.

I stood up off the bed and leaned against it when I almost collapsed. Then I realised I was in the buff and one of the most stunningly beautiful women I had ever met, was lounging on my bed watching me intently. Her head tilted in curious wonder.

I gripped the bed sheet and pulled it over to wrap around me.

“You know I’ve seen it all before,” she commented softly. I looked at her sharply and grimaced.

“But I was… purple then,” I reasoned deflating onto the bed. “What am I doing?” I asked rhetorically to the non-ceiling.

“You were sleeping, now you are contemplating your actions.”

“Thanks, oh mistress of comfort’s,” I retorted dryly, and rocked my head back forcibly when a long white pillow sailed into my face.

“Now you are lying down, and relaxing,” Ophelia stated flatly. “And still likely contemplating your actions.”

“Which are?” I asked her curiously.

“They blame you,” she said softly after a long moment passed. I shuffled on the bed and starred at her. Her beautiful, gentle feature’s marred by concern for me.

“They do,” I agreed. “At least in my dreams apparently. And something else…” I trailed off not sure how to explain the last dream I had. How it felt so… unnaturally… real.

“Tell me,” Ophelia said earnestly and crawled over to lay down opposite me on the bed. My eyes tracked every subtle sway of her curvaceous figure as she lead down. Her robe pressed tightly around her hips and chest.

So I explained my odd dream’s—or should I say nightmare’s—to her. She listened attentively as I spoke and cupped my cheek affectionately when I told her of sinking deep beneath the ocean.

Her eyes grew concerned when I mentioned the thing that tried to snatch me up. The woman made of white light stopping it’s advance and arguing on my behalf.

The nightmare ending with her speaking into my mind. After I finished talking, neither of us spoke for a while. I closed my eyes, and enjoy the comfort of her hand running across my face gently.

Then my stomach made its presence known.

“Hungry?” Ophelia asked me, and smiled prettily.

“Yeah,” I breathed deeply. “Though, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep anything down.”

“We’ll figure it out,” she assured me. “Come on. It’s Patricia turn to cook breakfast this morning.”

“You don’t have it in your own roo- houses?” I asked, and sat up as she slid off the bed.

“Nope. At least not when the majority of us are present. I cooked last time so it’s Patricia turn this morning,” she sighed and stretching languidly. Her arms and wings reached upwards.

I stood up cautiously, well aware I was still naked. Then I took a deep breath and shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t have any other clothes—”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get you some,” she assured me and looked at my naked form more fully. “It’s easier to see how well built you are in this colour.”

“Yeah, I definitely feel more…” I grasped for the words.

“Fitter? more… well-endowed? leaner? stronger? more defined? flexible?” she rattled off to me with a cocked eyebrow.

“A few of those at least,” I laughed lightly and waved my hand.

“How did you manage it anyway?” she asked me curiously.

“I’m not entirely sure. I must’ve spent hours staring at myself in the mirror last night,” I mumbled and shook my head.

“Ah, so it was vanity all along that was the answer?” she smiled teasingly. “At least you can go outside now,” her smile became brittle, with longing.

“I can,” I agreed reluctantly. “Though I won’t be leaving just yet.”

She perked up a little at that.

I was suddenly struck by the realisation that I would do anything to see her happy. It was a profound mess of feelings that washed over me. I had only known her less than twenty-four-hours. Yet I found myself missing her coffee scent when she wasn’t near me.

“Elias?” she asked, and I cleared my throat seeing that I had been staring at her for a long while. A slight flush crept up her pale bronze skin between her breasts and across her neck.

“I, uh… what was I saying?” I mumbled to myself and blushed furiously. “I needed to do something… I need to talk to Patricia on learning how to use my superpowers,” I clicked my fingers for emphasis.

“Sure,” she bobbed her head and I saw her face redden. Her eyes strayed down towards my barely covered manhood. With her proximity so close by, her robe slightly open. Her exotic skin, beauty, and her wings began to make the blood in my brain rush down to my second head.

My cock twitched with the beginning stir of an erection and I spun away from her. “Have you seen my clothes?” I called over my shoulder as I walked towards to the partitioned bathroom.

“Bathroom,” she called after me, and I grunted trying to ignored my swelling hard-on.

“Stupid body,” I muttered. I recalled Patricia mentioning the few men who had joined their Sisterhood before. Some thinking the women free to use as they pleased.

Was I any better? They were all so painstakingly beautiful.

“You’re only staying with them for a few days,” I muttered to myself unconvincingly. “Only a few days. A week at most.”

I was just about to get changed back into my clothes from yesterday, when Then caught a deep whiff of myself and gaged.

“You know,” I stuck my head around the partitioned wall to see Ophelia still standing there. “You can go ahead if you like. I’m gonna use the shower and wash all the yuck out.”

“That’s fine. I’ll meet you at Patricia house,” she smiled gently and strutted towards the exit on her toes. Her small high arched feet stepped firmly.

“Oh, the mirror is a pull-out cabinet. All the essentials you need should be inside,” she called to me and left the room.

I sighed heavily and nodded my head.

~*~*~*~

Ten minutes later I left the house and walked down the street. Going towards Patricia house. Standing outside I could hear the women inside speaking over one another.

The door slid open as I neared, almost walking my chin into Karen’s forehead.

“Oh, finally!” she huffed and grabbed my shirt pulling my ass inside house. “He’s finally arrived,” she announced dragging me behind her.

The two other women were setting out a table as I entered, and I took the opportunity to check each of them over.

Karen wore light blue skinny jeans and sneakers. Her small pert chest pressed against the fabric of her tight buttoned crop-top. Her dark-blonde hair was tied into a loose braid around one shoulder.

Ophelia had on black nylon leggings and a small tank-top. The top barely contained her already straining lace bra. Her soft brown and white hair was tied into a pony-tail behind her head.

The gorgeous dark-haired Patricia on the other hand was dressed semi-professional. In tight grey slacks and a baby blue shirt which she’d tucked-in. Her own hair spilled around one side of her face.

They smiled widely when they saw me enter.

“How went the war with the mirror?” the Technomancer teased me knowingly.

“Stressful,” I replied, glowering. Sneaky woman did have camera’s placed about. Not that I blamed her for monitoring a guest. Especially an unknown male.

“War with what?” Karen raised an eyebrow at me questioningly, but I shook my head.

“Did Judy manage to make a list of… what was it? base capabilities?” I asked Patricia as she passed me a bowl of scrambled eggs, mushrooms, and diced bacon.

I set the bowl in the centre of the table, where Ophelia prompted me with a smile.

“Yes, she did. And it’s quite extensive for a base power level set,” she inform me with an approving nod.

“Base levels,” I murmured. “What does that mean exactly?”

“All super powers can grow in level’s. From Base, to Advance, to Master level. Each is a significant growth in power. I’m an Advanced level in Technomancy. Though a Base level in my Electromantic power’s.”

“I’m an Advance level in Stormcasting, and I haven’t even covered all the bases for this stage. Doubt I ever will,” Karen huffed annoyed.

“I’m only a Base level ‘Divine’ Healer,” Ophelia frowned around the holy title. “My class of power is incredibly difficult to advance in stages. So I’m not so much concerned with advancing. People not needing to be healed is a plus on either side for me at least.”

“So, you can tell how many stages any set of power’s a person can go through?”

“Not as such,” Patricia started to explain as Karen passed out plates. “Judy makes a map of known genome’s we’ve collected. In doing so, we’ve learned that all the Super genome carrier’s, each have a similar trait. A sort of identifier that puts them in a category.”

“It’s how the SPBI knows what specific super power you’ll have. Which is worrying in your case, but I’ll get to that,” she held up her hand forestalling my immediate questions.

“Say you have a super power that’s classed as a physical enhancements. You can make yourself incredible strong and endurable. Run at faster speeds and leap up buildings. But they’re only enhancements and are usually short-lived ones. Then you have somebody with the power of super strength. His genome will primarily show what his capabilities are. He’s super strong. But they find the basis for this inherent strength either by his parent’s genome analysis, or by the genome basis of the Enhancer.”

“So the majority of super powers are linked to one another in some way?”

“Yes and no. It’s complicated and I’ve never been very-good at explaining this,” Patricia conceded. “Suffice it to say, that they’re broader powers out there. An Elementalist for instant can control the very things of nature. That’s the most basis primer someone can take an analysis of. But from there you find links in the chain that connect Elemency, to forty-one hundred other different Super genomes.”

This novel is the work of Rhys Thomas. If you are reading this and it has not been published by Rhys Thomas, then this work has been stolen. Please report this to Amazon and me at email: [email protected]