Bouncing with an awkward rhythm to the sound of Abel's music, Baron felt his friend's iconic voice through the bass-heavy speakers. Rose stood close, with her right hand interlocked with his, while Jen was on his other side. At the same time, Dawn stood on Baron's left, an attempt to separate them, as they cheered and clapped for the live performance, which was more impressive than Baron could have imagined.

  Though Baron believed everything his friend did seemed cool, Abel grabbed the mic, with beads of sweat dripping down his face, as he sang with an energetic passion Baron hadn't seen from him often.

  The small crowd grew rowdy when they felt the emotion in the original music he performed. Baron left, wondering how Schism wasn't a mainstream name already, as they began the final, more serene, less heavy song. Abel's vocals, softer than before, complemented the slower rhythm their drummer, Marcus, set.

  Rose gripped onto him with her smaller, softer hands. Baron shifted his attention from his friend's live music, his gaze interlocking with her pink lips and blue eyes. As they mirrored his own, she looked into him. Their friends, the people around them, and the venue faded away as the two of them stared, enraptured by each other.

  Hesitantly, Baron leaned his face inward toward Rose, close enough to feel her breath against his skin.

  And despite the churning worry in his stomach, Baron's lips neared Rose's. The worries of being a bad kisser, since he'd never done it before, or, worse, Rose rejecting him, made him hesitant, but still, he got closer. The both of them paused hesitantly, only a push from their lips touching.

  But before Baron could commit, a cold, unnerving chill ran down Baron's spine, his hair standing on end as his face went pale.

  Snapping his head upwards, a primal fear shook him as he securely gripped Rose's hand. Baron, even without his Manifest activated, could pick up on the most extreme emotions, but he couldn't track the source down until he triggered Intent's Confession—a dense, powerful smokestack of red and black pouring in from the street outside. Baron realized the source had malicious intentions like he'd never seen before.

  "Baron, what's wrong?" Rose asked with a worried look. Neither Jen nor Dawn, whether it was on purpose or not, paid attention to them as the moment Baron longed for with Rose was interrupted.

  Staring between her and the bone-chilling aura, Baron was not only nervous over the danger he sensed, but he was also, as irrational as it felt, equally afraid of making the wrong move and ruining his relationship with Rose.

  Baron, with Rose before him, for once questioned if he really needed to get involved. After all, he already knew it wasn't possible to help everyone—not to mention he was enjoying himself with Rose and didn't want to miss out on this just to potentially put himself in harm's way for someone else.

  Come on, not only do I have a big test tomorrow morning, but there is no way to tell if it's even a Cognizant threat. And honestly, would it really be so bad to let someone else handle it for once? Baron continued to argue with himself, as the twisted red and black ominously crept down his spine.

  "Did I do something wrong?" Rose asked in a panic, her tone growing more worried as she looked up and down at the conflicted look on Baron's face.

  No, you're perfect, Baron thought as he shook his head, unable to speak while looking into her beautifully mundane eyes. The realization that someone like her could get hurt, or worse, die, because of his selfishness and fear of interfering in Noncognizant matters.

  Yeah, Cognizants weren't traditionally allowed due to a rumored organization—a shadow branch of the government responsible for reckless and merciless Cognizants—and, more importantly, the omnipresent lashback of mana used to directly harm a Mundane with their supernatural abilities, both invisible consequences of putting your nose where it didn't belong.

  But can you really let that stop you from doing the right thing? His inner voice, sounding like his time as Spriggan, questioned him.

  "Baron?" Rose asked, her energy sinking as her expression grew more dejected with each passing moment of silence, her weak voice becoming drowned out by the loud music. Everyone else in the venue was still enjoying themselves, unaware of the nefarious presence.

  Do you get to pick and choose when you involve yourself in their lives of normalcy? Baron challenged himself as sweat, caused by the overbearing presence, rolled down his face.

  No! Baron couldn't just turn a blind eye when he could potentially make a difference—even if he had been enjoying himself and thought he might end up ruining everything he'd found in Rose by abandoning her tonight. But Baron couldn't stand by and do nothing.

  "I'm sorry," Baron managed, his mind finally made up. "I'm sorry, but there's been a family emergency I've got to take care of," Baron lied - a guilty expression making it apparent once he saw the sadness Rose barely contained on her face.

  "That's alright," Rose said with a supportive smile, which hid a layer of disappointment and rejection beneath its surface - Baron accidentally catching a glance of yellow uncertainty from Rose's psyche.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "I'm so sorry," Baron repeated before he released her hands, the sight of tears in the corner of her eyes—a somber, subtle blue sinking from her spirit. Leaving the group behind in a rush toward the exit, Baron kept his head turned back toward Rose and the group, her subtle reaction of heartache searing itself into his mind as he walked away.

  "Tell me if you need anything," Rose quietly mentioned a final time, her voice barely distinguishable from the concert, as Dawn suddenly followed after him with her own worried look.

  "Yeah, I'll text you," Baron responded, his pace increasing through the rowdy paths between rows. Dawn easily caught up to him, her arms crossed with loose shoulders.

  "Hey, everything alright with you, man?" Dawn questioned as he walked, her taller legs and loud voice only a step behind him.

  "I'm alright for now, just tell Abel I'm sorry for leaving early; something bad is about to happen somewhere in the city," Baron leaned back to tell her in a quieter, private tone. "It might be Cognizant-related, so I'm just gonna go check it out, real quick," he said without slowing his pace as Abel's powerful vocals moved the room. Baron felt like a poor friend for not fully supporting something his friend was passionate about.

  "He'll understand, I'm sure. But more importantly, tell me if you need some help. You seem a little... more on edge than normal for, even you," Dawn said honestly, her calloused hand falling on his shoulder.

  "Spriggan'll be alright, but if we're dying, we'll give you a call," Baron said with forced humor, Dawn not looking amused or very relieved by his comment.

  "Well... all right, just stay in touch. Everyone would be really fucked up if something happened to you because you got into something too dangerous," Dawn said, the worry on her face palpable because of the undeniable look of fear Baron couldn't manage to fully hide.

  "Don't worry, I'll hopefully be back in not long," Baron said. After speaking, he broke into a light jog through the room of spread-out people as the lights dimmed and the song came to a slow close.

  Leaving his friend behind, Baron pushed through the door, leaking with the same twisted mix of rageful reds and grim blacks—a dangerous combination without even taking into account the unbridled intensity of these emotions. The much quieter halls filled with people who were still entering as they eyed Baron, who sprinted and easily ducked past them in a rush.

  Baron chose to ignore their stares. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, where he grabbed two out of the four Liana he kept on him at all times—a precaution he took for moments like this, and as he flew through the exit, the door swung wildly open in his rush.

  Running through the parking lot, where Abel had parked earlier, Baron, without much thought, seamlessly grew the lengths of his fibrous vines as they wrapped around his arms. Baron hid them under the sleeves of his hoodie before he ducked between the tight space of two cars. And while he didn't have the Spriggan suit's added protection or pouches of seeds, Baron still cast the sensationless illusion spell—his face became, in his own opinion, more handsome like Abel's as his hair turned black.

  Now disguised as Spriggan, he dashed off with his pale, white eyes, following the trail of unbridled hatred. His manifest still tracked as he dodged through the rows of parked cars, unable to ascend from the asphalt due to the Noncogizants around him.

  Without missing a step, Spriggan vaulted over a waist-high, chain-link fence that divided the parking lot from the sidewalk, running down the less busy sidewalk after landing lightly.

  And as he ran, a part of him still felt guilty, despite believing he had made the selfless decision – the look of Rose's sadness still fresh in his mind. The dejected reaction to his leaving, and Baron's unintentional peek into her psyche, made it clear she didn't fully believe his lie, and while he wanted to tell her the truth, he didn't think he could without looking crazy.

  Damn it, just focus for now. You can hope she'll talk to you later. Spriggan brought himself back to the moment, the trail bringing him to a fast-moving interstate.

  The cars on the busy road were not enough to discourage Spriggan; his pace increased as he barreled through the street. Spriggan slipped past the first lane with little issue before he bounced from the floor - his Cognizant body easily carrying him over a white van in a tight flip - a group of pedestrians awed at the sudden, extraordinary display of acrobatics.

  Not worrying about the attention he drew, Spriggan, with a strong stride, sprinted as he landed, the thick trail he chased down clouding the air between buildings as it led him further down the blocks of the illuminated night street—the source's tail radiated from a dark, lonesome alley, and Spriggan turned down it.

  With the path of malice climbing the building's fire escape, Spriggan shot his vines upwards to propel himself skyward, and after he soared through the air, his feet gently landed on the roof above, where he could see a silhouetted figure wearing a trench coat standing on the edge of the structure adjacent to the one he climbed—the gap between them further than any Noncognizant could naturally traverse.

  Not allowing himself to hesitate at the ominous beacon of negativity, Spriggan ran forward toward the alley between them.

  Easily leaping across the fifteen-foot divide with a simple bound, Spriggan landed louder than he tended to. His shoes were heavier and not designed for stealth or combat like his magically enhanced suit.

  Only checking over his shoulder at first, the stranger, with sleeves rolled up past his elbows, turned back to face Spriggan, his cold, hollow eyes cutting through his nerves and making Spriggan feel uneasy.

  In the tense silence, they could hear the sounds of traffic, rowdy nightlife, and people passing below them. Spriggan got a good look at the scar on his face—the healed deformity resembled the jagged fragmentation of broken glass as it branched out from where the impact appeared to have happened over his right eye.

  Spriggan stood before the strangers' emotionless appearance, feeling the same chill he felt back with Rose cut through his bones and crawl down his spine again—the malevolent fog emitted by him growing denser around his right hand.

  With his hair on end, Spriggan, uncharacteristically frozen in place while the shoeless stranger took a heavy step toward him, kept a close eye on the stranger's hand, which remained still as he moved closer.

  "Please, I'm not sure what you're planning, sir, but please, I'm pleading with you to reconsider," Spriggan said, his magically deepened voice managing to stand its ground against his murderous presence—although all of Spriggan's instincts told him to flee from this very likely dangerous individual.

  "You'll burn with them too," the stranger with greasy brown hair said – a sickening bloom of death radiating from him – as he raised his hand toward Spriggan, the skin on his palms opened up with many gaping, porous holes.

  Then, without sparks, the stranger spewed flames from his hand. The heat from the inferno was already hitting him as the wide wave of flames blasted through the air toward Spriggan in a spite-filled attack.