Ignited Power

Ignited Power
\-Matilda-

I tossed and turned all night, sleep slipping away, thoughts tangled tight on Blake locked in a cell, framed for murder.

Every path I explored to free him hit dead ends, no leads, no answers. Frustration burned deep, my mind a storm of worry.

I wanted to keep Aunt Helen out of this, shield her from the mess, but my patience ran dry.

At 2 a.m., I shuffled to the living room, steps heavy, and I froze as I saw aunty Helen sat there, awake, reading a book, calm as ever.

"Aunt Helen, why are you still up?" I asked, glancing at the wall clock ticking loud.

She lifted her face slow, smile gentle. "I had to finish this book before bed," she said soft.

Curiosity pulled me closer. "A book? What's it about, and why finish it tonight?" I sat beside her on the couch, body sinking in.

"This is the chant book for hunters. The law says you must read it nonstop once you start," she explained, voice steady.

"Why's that so?" I pressed, leaning closer.

"It brings dreams of the book's powers, but only if you follow the rules. Otherwise, disaster will be fall whoever doesn't follow the instructions," she said, eyes serious.

My interest spiked. "When can I read it?"

Her smile widened. "You don't need to."

Confusion hit. "Why not? Isn't it for hunters?" I asked, curiosity burning brighter.

Her gaze softened, voice calm. "You were born with dreams and powers never seen before. You're the first hybrid hunter the world has ever seen or known.

You don't need this book, you just need to control what's inside you." Her words landed heavy, but doubt crept in.

"With all these supposed powers, I can't even help Blake. What's the use?" I whispered, loud enough for her to hear, frustration spilling out.

She turned, eyes sharp. "Child, you're troubled. You want to help Blake, right?"

I froze, shocked. "Yes, but I didn't tell you about Blake's situation. How did you know?" Surprise widened my eyes.

"I know everything happening with you. I was waiting for you to ask for help," she said, voice warm.

"In life, no matter how strong you think you are, always know when, how, and where to ask for help." Her words sank deep, wisdom clear. I nodded, realization settling, agreement firm.

"Since you know everything, how do I help him?" I asked, eyes locked on hers.

"The evidence against him is fabricated, and convincing the police is nearly impossible. But we have a chance," she said, pausing deliberately.

"We'll get into the head of the police in charge of Blake's case." My brow furrowed.

"How? How do we get into his head?" Curiosity burned at its peak.

"You'll step into his dream, speak to him, show him the truth through visions," she explained.

Heat surged sudden through my body, like fire racing in my veins, a power I'd never felt before.

"How do we do it? Why's my body burning inside and out?" I asked, eyes fixed on her, voice trembling.

"Your psychic ability is activating. Just say a word, and you'll ignite it," she said, calm but firm.

Restlessness gripped me, heat overwhelming, body alive with energy. Before I could process, aunty Helen moved quick, pulling out candles and placing them around me in a circle.

My eyes burned strange, and gentle blue flames shot out, lighting each candle bright. Power pulsed strong, almost too much.

"Now, go into the mind and dream of whoever you wish to speak to," Aunty Helen said, voice guiding steady.

I closed my eyes tight, focusing hard, then opened them slow. There he stood, Inspector Harrison, right beside me, everything around us white as snow, dreamlike and still.

Heart raced, power steady. "Let's go on a journey!" I said to his ears, grabbing both his hands.

★★★

\-Harrison-

I jolted awake in bed, sweat soaking my shirt, eyes wide, heart racing wild. Breathing uneven, I scanned the room, head spinning, struggling to ground myself.

"Oh, it's a dream!" I said loud, voice shaky, trying to pull myself back to reality. What kind of dream was that? So vivid, so real.

An old woman grabbed my hands, showing me flashes of the case I'm workingon, Blake's case, twisted truths, hidden lies.

My mind playing tricks? Too much work, too little rest. Needed a break, maybe. Clock showed 6:30 a.m.

I stood up slow, legs unsteady, and headed to the bathroom, determined to shake it off. Water would clear my head.

Stepped under the shower, warm streams hitting my skin, but the dream clung tight, her face, her voice, those images too clear, too compelling.

Why so real? "Could McAllister actually be innocent?" I whispered, standing before the mirror, eyes searching my own reflection.

Doubt crept in, unwanted but strong. Brushed it aside, started bathing quick, needing routine to anchor me.

Finished fast, moved to brush my teeth, staring into the mirror again. Then it happened, her face appeared, that old woman from the dream, but now terrifying, eyes piercing, expression cold.

I jumped back hard, nearly falling, my heart pounding louder than before. I looked again, cautious and she was gone. Mirror empty. Fear gripped me tight.

This wasn't just stress. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. Needed a doctor, maybe, work was breaking me.

I shook my head, finished getting ready fast, pushing the image away. Dressed for work, grabbed my car keys, steps hurried to the door.

Had to get out, clear my mind, focus on the case. Blake's arrest felt solid, evidence stacked high, but that dream shook me, planted seeds of doubt.

Was I missing something? Her voice in the dream echoed, warning me, showing me glimpses of a truth I hadn't seen. Nonsense. Just a dream.

Reached the door, hand on the knob, ready to leave. "It's a dream and nothing more!" I said firm, convincing myself.

Then a voice cut through, clear and chilling, from inside my room. "It's not just a dream. It is your reality!"

Fear hit like ice, bones weakening, knees buckling slight. Voice wasn't mine, wasn't human, it carried weight, power, terror.

I ran fast from my apartment, my feet pounding down the hall, into my car, slamming the door shut. But that voice followed, echoing in my head, haunting me relentless.