Kai raced through the Nevada mountains, the desert's flat dunes fading into a rugged tapestry of cliffs, sagebrush, and scattered pines, their sharp scent mingling with the cool night air. Purple threads coiled around his legs, warm and electric, each stride a surge of inhuman speed that sent gravel skittering and dust swirling. The wind sang in his ears, a wild hymn, the world blurring into streaks of starlit peaks and shadowed ravines. Elation coursed through him, pure and overwhelming, his laughter spilling out as he leaped a narrow gorge, threads cushioning his landing with a soft hum. I'm free. No Veilwatch vans, no cages to bind him. The threads pulsed, almost alive, sharing his joy, their rhythm a defiant heartbeat echoing the surge that had saved him at the I-15 diner. The mountains cradled him, their jagged silhouettes hiding his trail from scanners, his escape a bold stroke against Veilwatch's control.
His mother's voice, soft and distant, wove through the moment: You're more than they see, Kai. Above, Andromeda's halo shimmered, a cosmic tether that made his chest ache with possibility. But as he vaulted a boulder, a sudden chill gripped him, his threads stuttering like a faltering engine. His vision dimmed, the stars smearing into streaks, the surge's song fading to a whisper. Not now. His legs faltered, strength draining as if siphoned by an unseen force, and he stumbled, crashing face-first into a sandy slope. Sagebrush scratched his cheek, the world tilting, then dissolving into darkness.
A purple portal glowed before Kai, its edges crackling with soft, dark energy, less jagged than Ohio's rifts, more like an invitation. He stepped through, the air cool and tingling against his skin, and found himself in an alien field that stole his breath. Bioluminescent fronds swayed gently, their teal glow pulsing in rhythm, while vines with violet veins curled across the spongy ground, flecked with star-like lichen. Trees rose in fractal spirals, their branches weaving patterns like distant nebulae, catching the faint light. The sky burned a deep crimson, dominated by a red dwarf sun, its massive disk appear ten times wider than Earth's sun hanging low, a smoldering ruby orb that filled the heavens with a heavy presence. Its dim light, a mere fraction of Sol's, cast a perpetual twilight, bathing the world in long, blood-hued shadows that stretched across the landscape.
This planet, tidally locked in its close orbit, bore a stark divide: one side blazed with unrelenting heat, the other froze in eternal night. Here, in the narrow terminator band, life thrived; a habitable ribbon where warm springs bubbled, their mist scattering the red dwarf's infrared warmth into glints like trapped stars. The plants glowed brighter to capture the faint rays, their teal and violet hues vivid against the muted crimson backdrop, as if defying the star's weak embrace. In the distance, humanoid forms moved, tall and indistinct, their outlines dissolving into the mist, drifting near coral-like spires that twisted upward, glinting faintly. Kai's chest tightened, the surge's hum swelling, his threads vibrating in harmony with this strange world. Is this real?
He walked, the ground yielding softly, each step sparking faint threads from his feet. The air felt thick, alive, as if the planet breathed with him. A figure emerged ahead, Riley, her silhouette sharp against the hazy spires, purple threads trailing her hands like wisps of smoke. She turned, her eyes fierce yet familiar, her voice cutting through the dream: "Kai, you need to wake up."
The world wavered, the red dwarf's glow bleeding into shadow, fronds fading like dying embers. Kai gasped, jolting awake in the Nevada dirt, sand gritty against his cheek, dawn's golden light warming the cliffs. His arm wound throbbed, sparking faintly, but the threads hummed steadily once more. Riley… What a weird dream? The dream's alien field, its looming red dwarf, and her urgent warning clung to him, a puzzle he couldn't unravel. Veilwatch's shadow loomed and he realized that his threads are versatile. He'd train, master these threads, for Riley, for whatever that rift, Dr. Voss mentioned, would bring. But at the moment, he enjoyed the solitude a true introvert enjoyed.
In the Nevada bunker, Lena Voss leaned over her terminal, the fluorescent hum a constant irritant, like a mosquito she couldn't swat. The 100-teraton surge was narrowing, its Nevada locus a growing threat, three times the scale of prior rifts, capable of leveling cities. Mara's offer "Anything you want, Voss" rang hollow, her surveillance tightening like a noose around Lena's neck. Her encrypted surge maps, hidden in dummy files, were her only leverage, but Kai's escape burned brighter in her mind. A Connect post caught her eye: "Saw purple lightning north of Vegas, dude just vanished into the mountains." That's Kai. She typed a quick DM, fingers trembling under Mara's distant gaze: "Keep running, lightning. I'm coming." Mara's shadow lingered, but Lena's maps were her weapon. Find Kai, stop this surge, or we're all gone.
Kai settled in a mountain cave, having scavenged water and jerky from a gas station, his motel cash long spent. Three days after the diner, his wound scabbed over, but the threads hummed with potential, stirred by Lena's words—multi-spectral anomaly—and the dream's alien world. Kai realized the versatility of his threads. Relocate, shape, control. He'd forge his power into something Veilwatch couldn't touch, chaos honed into strength.
His first attempt went spectacularly wrong. Picturing threads around his arms for a controlled burst, he unleashed a wild blast, reducing a cactus to a pile of green sludge. "Oh, come on!" he yelped, diving as spines rained down, one lodging in his sneaker. He yanked it out, muttering, "Okay, dial it back, genius."
He tried shaping a shield. The threads swirled, forming a shimmering bubble, but it wobbled and burst, knocking him flat. Sand coated his face, crunching in his teeth. "Real heroic, Kai," he coughed, spitting out grit with a wry grin.
The absurdity hit him, and he laughed, a sound that echoed off the cliffs. Cosmic screw-up, that's me. But when he calmed, the threads responded, their hum steadying. He focused, weaving a thin rope that snagged a nearby rock, pulling it across the dirt. "There we go," he said, a spark of pride flaring.
The mishaps piled up, each a lesson. Aiming threads to lift a scrub bush, he misfired, launching himself backward into a dune. "Ow, damn it," he groaned, brushing sand from his boxers, the bush unmoved. Chasing a jackrabbit with speed threads, he tripped over a root, face-planting with a muffled, "Why is this my life?" Trying a lasso, he tangled his own legs, collapsing like a roped calf. "Cowboy fail, nailed it," he muttered, untangling himself with a chuckle.
By day two, hunger gnawed, his jerky stash dwindling. A rustle sharpened his focus; a massive bighorn sheep, its curled horns glinting, charged from a ridge, hooves pounding. Kai's pulse spiked, threads flaring instinctively. The ram lunged, and he sidestepped, shaping a precise pulse that struck its flank, a wet crack echoing as it crumpled, blood pooling in the dirt. Guilt flickered, he wasn't a hunter, but his stomach growled louder. Food's food.
He dragged the ram to his cave, its weight testing his threads' strength. No fire posed a problem. Lena mentioned dark energy. Could he spark it? Focusing on his hands, he pictured threads vibrating air molecules, heating them to plasma. The air shimmered, then fizzled, a weak spark singeing his sleeve. "Whoa, easy!" he said, shaking it off. He tried again, tightening the threads until the air hissed, igniting a small, purple-tinged flame. Piling dry scrub, the fire caught, its warmth filling the cave with the gamey scent of roasting ram. He botched the skinning; blood soaked his jeans, the meat cut unevenly but the first tough bite was a triumph. "Desert chef, reporting for duty," he said, grinning through the chew.
Fueled by ram jerky, Kai resumed training. Speed threads carried him across the canyon, but poor steering sent him crashing into a yucca. "Steer, you idiot," he panted, picking spines from his shirt. He shaped whips that cracked rocks, shields that held against tossed stones, lassos that snared logs. Each flop taught him. Anger made the threads erratic; calm brought precision.
By day three, Kai found his rhythm in a canyon, his "range" of rocks, logs, and a busted tire scavenged from a trail. Each session unconsciously gets longer and longer. He wove a whip, splitting a rock clean, then a shield, steady against a stone's impact. Speed carried him across the canyon without a stumble, and a plasma spark lit a twig pile, controlled, no singed sleeves. At dusk, atop a dune, the sky glowed purple, mirroring his threads. Closing his eyes, he flowed through forms; lasso snaring a branch, shield deflecting a rock, pulse toppling a log, speed zipping him to the canyon's edge, plasma igniting a flame all seamless, no errors. A final burst cleaved a boulder, dust settling like a quiet ovation.
"Take that, Veilwatch," Kai muttered, a grin tugging his lips as he raised a fist to the starlit peaks. He wasn't their pawn or Ohio's null, his threads a shield against their grasp. The dream's alien world and Riley's warning lingered, a puzzle he'd dodge for now, just like Lena's talk of a super rift tearing Nevada apart. Not my fight. He'd train, stay sharp, keep running. Whatever rifts or Veilwatch threw his way, he'd survive, his mother's telescope a quiet reminder to keep his head down and his threads ready.