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The sand hit my face before I heard the wind.
I didn't look back. Couldn't. Twelve people from Sector 9 were behind me, close enough that I heard someone's breath hitch when the first gust rolled in. We'd been walking for three hours since the shelter collapsed. My legs burned. My throat tasted like copper and dust.
But Ironspine's walls were right there—maybe half a mile out—black metal rising against the rust-colored sky like broken teeth.
"Storm's coming," someone said behind me. A woman. I didn't know her name.
I knew. The air had that electric pull, the kind that made my skin crawl and my fingers twitch. It always happened before the big ones. Before the storms that ate whole districts.
"We're close," I said. My voice came out rough. "Keep moving."
"What if they don't open the gate?"
I didn't answer that. Because Ironspine didn't take refugees. Everyone knew it. You needed rank, clearance, or something they wanted. I had none of those.
But I had the key Mom left me. I had the file that said I was Sample K-9. And apparently, someone wanted me in Ironspine bad enough to send a live transfer order.
Whether that was a good thing or a death sentence, I hadn't figured out yet.
The wind picked up. I pulled my collar over my nose and mouth. The sand was coming in thicker now, cutting visibility down to twenty feet. Then ten.
"Stay together," I shouted. "Don't lose sight of the person in front of you."
A kid—maybe fourteen—grabbed my sleeve. His face was pale under the grime. "What if we don't make it?"
I looked at him. I wanted to lie. Say something reassuring. But I'd learned a long time ago that lies didn't help when the storm was already here.
"Then we don't," I said.
He let go.
The storm hit for real about thirty seconds later.
One second I could see the walls. The next, the world turned into a wall of sand and noise. The wind screamed. Someone behind me yelled something I couldn't hear. I squinted ahead, trying to keep the gate's direction locked in my head.
That's when I felt it.
The pull.
It started in my chest, like a hook yanking me backward. Not physically. Deeper than that. My quirk woke up on its own, buzzing under my skin, hot and sharp and hungry. The sand around me slowed. Just a fraction. Just enough that I could see the grains hovering in the air like they were waiting.
I clenched my fists. No. Not here. Not now.
Using it meant losing something. A face. A name. Last time, I'd forgotten what Mom's laugh sounded like. The time before that, I'd lost three days from when I was ten. Just—gone. And every time, the empty spots in my head got bigger.
But if I didn't use it, the storm would shred us.
I heard someone scream. A man's voice, raw with panic. Then nothing. The wind took him.
"Kai!" The woman from before. Closer now. "We can't see the gate—"
"I know," I snapped.
The sand pressed in. I could barely breathe. My quirk pushed harder, begging me to let it loose. It'd be so easy. I could clear a path, hold the storm back long enough to get everyone through.
All it'd cost me was another piece of myself.
I hesitated.
That's when I heard her.
"Kai."
Mom's voice.
I froze. My heartbeat slammed against my ribs. I turned, scanning the storm, but there was nothing. Just sand and wind and the shapes of people stumbling blind.
"Kai, come back."
Her voice again. Soft. The way she used to say my name when I woke up from nightmares.
No. She was dead. Ten years dead. This wasn't real.
"You don't belong there," she said. The words came from everywhere and nowhere. "Come home."
"Shut up," I whispered.
But the storm didn't shut up. It got louder. Her voice wove through the wind, calling me, pulling me. And the worst part—the part that made my stomach drop—was that I wanted to follow it. Wanted to walk into the storm and let it take me wherever she was.
I dug my nails into my palms until I felt blood.
Focus. The gate. Get to the gate.
I forced myself forward. One step. Another. The kid from before crashed into me, gasping. I grabbed his arm and dragged him with me. The woman stumbled up beside us. Three more shapes emerged from the sand—two men, one more kid.
That was it. Twelve became six.
"Kai, please."
Mom's voice cracked. Like she was crying.
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. Blood mixed with sand in my mouth.
"You're not real," I said out loud.
"I'm here," she said. "I've always been here. You just have to listen."
My quirk flared. The sand around me stopped. Completely. Hung in the air like someone hit pause on the world. The storm roared beyond the bubble I'd made, but inside, it was silent.
The kid stared at me. "What—"
"Don't," I said.
I didn't mean to do it. It just happened. My control was slipping. And the second I let the quirk out, I felt it—something sliding away in my head. A memory. Small. Gone before I could grab it.
What was it? I didn't know. That was the problem. You never knew what you lost until you tried to remember it and couldn't.
I shoved the quirk down. The sand fell. The storm rushed back in.
"Move," I said. "Now."
We ran. I didn't know if we were going the right direction. I just ran, pulling the kid with me, hoping the others kept up. My lungs burned. My legs were numb. The storm screamed in my ears and Mom's voice kept calling, over and over, saying my name like a prayer.
Then I hit metal.
The gate.
I slammed my fist against it. "Open up!"
Nothing.
I hit it again. "I said open up—"
The gate slid open.
Not all the way. Just enough for one person at a time. I shoved the kid through first. Then the woman. The others stumbled in after. I went last, half-blind, choking on sand.
The gate shut behind me with a clang that I felt in my bones.
The storm cut off. Suddenly, it was quiet.
I doubled over, coughing. My hands hit concrete. Solid ground. No sand. I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision.
When I looked up, I saw boots.
Military-grade. Scuffed leather. I followed them up to a man in a gray uniform, arms crossed, standing like he'd been waiting a while.
Steelhook.
I knew him from the shelter's old broadcast files. Ex-military commander. Ran Ironspine's defenses. Face like a hammer, all hard lines and no give. Scar across his jaw from some pre-collapse fight.
He looked down at me.
"Took you long enough," he said.
I stared at him. My brain was still trying to catch up. He knew. He knew I was coming.
"What—"
"On your feet, Sample K-9," he said. His voice was flat. Not angry. Not friendly. Just a statement. "We've got work to do."
I stayed on the ground. My heart was pounding again, but for a different reason now.
He knew.
He knew what I was.