Nick showered quickly in the locker room, changed back into his regular clothes, and headed toward Engineering Building C for his meeting with Maggie.

  As he walked, he mentally rehearsed what he would tell her—how much to reveal, how much to withhold. She could be a valuable ally, but trust was a luxury he couldn't afford to give freely. Not again.

  Engineering Building C stood apart from the main campus, its sleek glass and steel architecture a stark contrast to the red brick colonial style of most university buildings. The setting sun reflected off its windows in sheets of amber and gold, giving the structure an otherworldly glow. Unlike the other campus buildings designed to evoke tradition and history, Engineering C was deliberately futuristic—built five years ago with funding from several technology corporations including, Nick noted with interest, Callahan Industries. Their logo was discreetly placed on a donor plaque near the entrance, alongside several defense contractors and pharmaceutical companies. The building itself was a statement of corporate influence extending into academic space. Security was tighter here than anywhere else on campus—Nick had to scan his student ID at the entrance and again at the elevator that would take him to the specialized labs on the third floor.

  The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, the subtle vibrations traveling through Nick's feet. He used the moment of isolation to center himself, preparing for what might be a pivotal conversation. Maggie Zhang could either become his most valuable ally or a dangerous complication.

  Lab C-314 was tucked at the end of a long corridor lined with research posters and glass-walled workspaces. The fluorescent lighting buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows that seemed to move at the edge of his vision. Nick arrived precisely at 4:00 PM, knocking once on the frosted glass door.

  It opened immediately, as if Maggie had been waiting just on the other side. She wore the same oversized hoodie as before, dark circles under her eyes suggesting she hadn't slept much since their last meeting. Her gaze darted past him, scanning the empty corridor before she grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside with surprising strength.

  "You weren't followed?" she demanded, securing three separate locks on the door.

  "Not that I detected," Nick replied, taking in the laboratory. It was smaller than he'd expected—more of a private workspace than a traditional laboratory. The air carried the sharp tang of solder and electronics, undercut by the familiar scent of energy drinks and instant noodles—the universal fuel of sleep-deprived researchers.

  Multiple monitors lined one wall, displaying scrolling code and what appeared to be network traffic analysis. A workbench dominated the center of the room, covered with circuit boards, soldering equipment, and partially disassembled devices Nick couldn't immediately identify. A discreet mini-fridge hummed in the corner, plastered with faded stickers from tech conferences and cybersecurity competitions.

  Maggie gestured to a chair across from her workstation. "Sit. No small talk. I've got a lot to show you, and we need to be efficient."

  She activated a small device on the table between them. It emitted a faint hum, accompanied by a subtle blue light that reminded Nick uncomfortably of his own mana manifestations.

  "White noise generator," she explained, noticing his gaze. "Plus some electromagnetic countermeasures. Makes it harder for anyone to listen in." Her fingers flew across her keyboard with practiced precision, bringing up a complex display of data streams and network maps. "First things first," she said, turning to face him fully. "The breach attempt on your files came from a secured address within the university network. Military-grade encryption, trying very hard to look like routine system maintenance."

  "Can you trace it?" Nick asked, leaning forward to study the screen.

  "Already did." A grim smile crossed her face, satisfaction lighting her eyes momentarily. "It originated from the Office of Information Security, specifically a terminal registered to one Marcus Chen, Assistant Director of Cybersecurity."

  She pulled up an employee directory photo showing a middle-aged Asian man with wire-rimmed glasses and a serious expression.

  Nick's brow furrowed. "The university's own security team tried to hack my files?"

  "Not exactly," Maggie said, her eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a puzzle solved. "The breach came from Marcus Chen's terminal—he's the Assistant Director of Cybersecurity—but I cross-referenced the timestamp. 1:17 AM. Chen was definitely at home with his family."

  "Someone used his credentials," Nick concluded.

  "And his access card." Maggie brought up a building security log. "But they made a mistake. The new biometric readers caught them—the fingerprint used to access the Information Security office doesn't match Chen's profile."

  She switched to another screen, displaying a partial fingerprint image highlighted with digital markers. "University installed the new biometric readers last year. Most people don't realize they're being scanned every time they tap their ID."

  "Can you identify whose fingerprint it was?"

  Maggie shook her head, frustration evident in the tightening of her jaw. "Not directly. But I can tell you it matches a partial print from another system—the access panel for this very lab, three days ago." Her eyes met his, intense and serious. "Someone tried to get in here without authorization."

  "The same person who tried to access my files also wanted into your lab," Nick said slowly, the implications crystallizing. "That can't be a coincidence."

  "So it would seem." Maggie studied him with renewed intensity. "Which raises the question: What's in your files that would interest someone with access to university security systems and military-grade hacking tools?"

  The question hung between them, the hum of the white noise generator suddenly seeming louder in the silence. Nick chose his words carefully, weighing risk against necessity.

  "Investment projections. Market analyses that... aren't common knowledge yet."

  "Bullshit," Maggie said flatly, crossing her arms as she pushed back from her desk. The wheels of her chair squeaked against the linoleum floor. "Nobody deploys this level of resources for some freshman's stock picks. Try again, and this time, don't insult my intelligence."

  She reached beneath her desk and pulled out a small device, sliding it across the table toward Nick. "Know what this is?"

  Nick examined it without touching—a small electronic component, possibly a transmitter.

  "I found it in my backpack yesterday," Maggie continued, eyes locked on his face, studying every microexpression. "After our first meeting. Wouldn't have detected it if I didn't routinely scan my belongings. Very sophisticated. Military-grade." Her voice hardened. "So tell me why I shouldn't assume you planted it. Why I shouldn't conclude you're working for them."

  For a long moment, they stared at each other, a silent battle of wills. The tension in the room thickened until Nick could almost taste it—metallic and sharp, like blood.

  "If I were working for them," Nick replied carefully, "I wouldn't need to plant a tracker. I'd already know where to find you."

  "Not good enough," Maggie countered. "Prove you're not with Callahan. Tell me something that only someone opposing them would know."

  Nick weighed his options, then decided on a calculated risk. "The Zhang-Harrington paper from last year? It establishes the theoretical framework for neural interface regulation. Specifically designed to classify neural data as 'inherently neutral,' removing ethical oversight from the technology itself and placing it solely on the applications." He leaned forward. "The perfect shield for what they're really developing."

  Maggie's eyes widened slightly, her posture shifting from defensive to alert. "Go on."

  "The paper argues for a 'data-agnostic' regulatory approach, claiming the technology itself can't be unethical—only its applications can. But that's corporate propaganda designed to create legal precedent." Nick's voice remained quiet but intense. "It's no accident that a Harrington co-authored that paper while Callahan Industries absorbs every neural tech startup they can get their hands on."

  He watched Maggie's reaction carefully. "They're creating the legal and ethical framework that will protect their research from oversight, while simultaneously ensuring they control the development pipeline. When the technology is ready for mass deployment, they'll already own the intellectual property and have shaped the regulations to their advantage."

  Something in Maggie's expression shifted—a recognition, perhaps even a confirmation of her own suspicions. She reached under her desk again, this time retrieving a folder with a red security stripe across it.

  "My brother's final research memo before he disappeared," she said, sliding the folder halfway across the table but keeping her hand firmly on one corner. "He was investigating the same connections. Two days after writing this, his lab was shut down for 'administrative review.' A week later, all his research was classified and confiscated." Her knuckles whitened around the folder's edge. "Officially, he's on sabbatical. Unofficially, no one has seen him in eighteen months."

  She flipped through several pages, then paused at what appeared to be a personnel file. "But that's not all he was investigating. Look at this."

  She turned the folder so Nick could see. It contained a list of former Callahan Industries employees who had worked on classified neural interface projects—researchers who had subsequently disappeared, died in accidents, or abruptly left the field. Two names near the top of the list made Nick's heart stop.

  Marco and Sierra Valiente.

  "These were my parents," Nick said, his voice barely audible, fingers hovering over their names. Maggie's eyes widened. "Your parents worked for Callahan? Why didn't you say so immediately?"

  Nick barely heard her. Something cracked open inside him—like a dam breaking. A flood of images surged forward, sharp and undeniable. Memories he hadn't been able to access since his rebirth suddenly flooded back with vivid clarity. His father's laugh, deep and resonant. His mother's hands, always smelling faintly of sheabutter.

  "I... couldn't remember them clearly," Nick admitted, the truth surprising even himself. "Not since... not for a while." More memories cascaded through his consciousness—deeper, older memories that seemed to have been locked away somewhere in his mind.

  Summers in Colombia at his grandparents' estate, a sprawling property nestled against the mountains. And then, a memory crystallized with such sudden clarity that Nick gasped.

  He was five years old, sitting cross-legged on the dojo floor as his parents demonstrated what they called "the family gift." His mother's hands glowing with the same blue energy that now flowed through his veins. His father, manipulating the mana to create intricate patterns in the air between his palms. Another memory surfaced—his mother kneeling before him when he was seven, taking his small hands in hers. "The world is not ready to know about mana, mi vida. So you must keep this as our secret." Then came the most vivid memory of all. He was ten, back in the dojo in Colombia. His parents and grandparents, standing in a circle around him, their hands glowing with blue light as they chanted in a language he didn't recognize. The mana flowing from their fingertips, entering his body, sealing itself within him. "For your protection," his father had explained afterward. "Until you are ready." His mother's voice, gentle but firm: "The power is sealed within you, but it will awaken when you need it most. When the time comes, your body will remember." Years of watching his parents work late nights in their lab at Callahan Industries, glimpses of blue light beneath their lab coats when they thought no one was looking. Hushed conversations that stopped when he entered a room. Documents hidden away whenever visitors came to their home. And finally, the memory he had buried deepest of all—the night his parents died. He had awakened from a dream, his room filled with a soft blue glow. His parents standing at the foot of his bed, though he knew they had left hours earlier for a conference. "We won't be coming home, Nicolás," his father had said, his form slightly transparent in the darkness. "But we will see you again," his mother promised, her smile sad but determined. "The summer of your nineteenth birthday, go to your grandparents. They will reveal everything." "Remember," his father added, "tell no one about the mana. It will protect you when you need it most." He had awakened the next morning to the news of their car accident. No one had believed him when he said he'd already known they were gone. "They weren't just researchers," Nick whispered, the revelation hitting him like a physical blow. "The mana—it wasn't an experiment or a drug. It's in our blood." Maggie was watching him with calculated intensity. "Your parents' death. When and how?" "Car accident," Nick replied automatically, the official story ingrained in his memory. "Two years ago, the summer before my junior year. Brake failure on a mountain road." "And you've never questioned it?" Maggie asked, her voice softening slightly. "I..." Nick hesitated, his newfound memories colliding with the public narrative. "Part of me always knew it wasn't an accident. But I couldn't—didn't want to face it."

  Maggie slid the folder closer to him, her finger tapping a notation beside his parents' names. "According to my brother's research, your parents were working on something called 'Project Rebirth.' On paper, they were developing neural interfaces for Callahan Industries, but my brother believed they had their own agenda. Three weeks after they filed a patent application that mentioned 'bio-energetic potential activation,' they died. The patent was immediately classified and reassigned to Callahan Industries." The world seemed to tilt around Nick. His parents hadn't just worked for Callahan—they were using their positions to research mana, perhaps finding ways to integrate their family heritage with modern technology. Was "Project Rebirth" a cover for something much older, much more fundamental than neural interfaces? "I was supposed to visit my grandparents this summer," Nick said quietly, the realization hitting him with sudden force. "Two years before I turn twenty-one. My parents said they would explain everything then." "Where are your grandparents now?" Maggie asked. "Colombia. My father's parents. I haven't seen them since the funeral." Another connection clicked into place. "They never wanted me to go to Westlake. They insisted I should attend university in Bogotá instead." "They were trying to keep you away from Callahan Industries," Maggie surmised. Nick nodded slowly, his mind racing. This changed everything. The timeline he'd been operating on suddenly compressed dramatically. If his parents had intended him to visit his grandparents this summer—just months from now—then whatever they had been preparing him for was imminent. "I need to see everything your brother had on Project Rebirth," Nick said, his voice steadier than he felt. "And I need to contact my grandparents without alerting whoever's watching me."

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  Maggie's eyes narrowed slightly as she assessed him. "Your grandparents might be in danger too if Callahan connects them to whatever your parents were working on. Any conventional contact method would be flagged immediately."

  Nick nodded grimly. The realization that his family in Colombia might be under surveillance had been weighing on him. If his parents' research into mana was as valuable as it seemed, Callahan wouldn't overlook any potential source of information.

  "I've been thinking about that," he said. "Is there a way to establish secure communication channels that wouldn't trigger monitoring systems?"

  Maggie tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the desk. "Possibly. I might be able to route messages through multiple proxy servers, maybe use old-school radio frequencies as an intermediary step." She frowned. "But first things first. We need to understand exactly what we're dealing with and secure what we already have."

  Nick leaned forward, the gravity of his situation settling over him like a physical weight. The memory of his parents' spectral visit, their warning about the mana, the connection to his grandparents in Colombia—it all pointed to something bigger than he had initially realized. This wasn't just about revenge against those who betrayed him; it was about uncovering the truth his parents had died to protect.

  "So where do we go from here?" he asked.

  Maggie reached for a drawer, extracting what looked like a modified USB drive. "First, better protection for your data. This is a secure storage device with military-grade encryption and an isolated operation system. Transfer your sensitive files to this, then wipe your laptop completely. If they're monitoring your digital activities, give them nothing useful."

  She slid the drive across the table. "Second, your grandparents. We’ll need to be extremely careful when contacting them. Any direct communication would be flagged immediately." She tapped something into her keyboard, then turned the monitor so Nick could see a diagram of interconnected nodes.

  "I've been developing a communication system that uses multiple layers of obfuscation. Messages are broken into fragments, encrypted, and routed through a series of dead drops across disconnected networks before being reassembled at the destination." Her eyes narrowed with focus as she scrolled through the complex schematic. "It was originally designed to communicate with my brother if he ever resurfaced. I can adapt it to establish a secure channel to Colombia."

  "How would they receive it? My grandparents aren't exactly tech-savvy," Nick said, thinking of his grandfather who still preferred handwritten letters to email.

  Maggie nodded. "The final delivery needs to be analog—something that wouldn't raise flags. I know people in Bogotá who could function as couriers, delivering messages that appear completely innocent but contain encrypted information."

  She pulled up another file on her computer. "The real challenge is finding a way to notify them to expect contact without alerting surveillance systems. Do you have any pre-established codes or signals that would make sense to them but not to anyone monitoring?"

  Nick thought back to his childhood visits. "My grandfather used to insert classified ads in local newspapers when he wanted to contact old colleagues without using official channels. He called it his 'fisherman's signal'—something about bait and weather forecasts."

  "Perfect," Maggie said with a hint of a smile. "Old-school tradecraft. Analog methods are harder to detect in digital surveillance sweeps." She made a quick note. "I'll set this up within the week. But for now, we have more immediate concerns."

  She turned back to her original screen. "Third, we need more information about this Nexus Initiative. I can hack into some university servers, but Callahan's systems are another level entirely."

  "Professor Callahan is giving a private lecture on neural interface ethics this Thursday," Nick offered. "Invitation only, but I'm on the list."

  Maggie's eyebrows rose. "How did you manage that?"

  "Professor Feldman added me."

  "Interesting." Maggie leaned back, considering this new information. "Feldman has connections to military research programs. Her recommendation isn't casual."

  "I thought as much," Nick replied. "The question is whether she's testing me or offering an opportunity."

  "Possibly both." Maggie turned to one of her monitors, typing rapidly. "We need surveillance equipment. If you're attending that lecture, we should capture everything possible—audio, video, data transmissions." Her fingers paused over the keyboard. "But there's something else we need to discuss first."

  She turned to face him directly. "Why am I being watched? If I'm on their radar because of my brother, that makes sense. But the timing suggests our connection is what triggered escalated surveillance. So I need to know exactly what you've done to attract this level of attention."

  The directness of her question left little room for evasion. Nick considered his options carefully.

  "In my previous investigation, I accessed restricted university servers," he admitted. "I might have left digital footprints they could trace."

  "Amateur move," Maggie muttered. "But that doesn't explain everything. You're hiding something significant—something that makes you valuable or dangerous to them." She fixed him with an unblinking stare. "I need to know what it is before I risk my freedom or my life helping you."

  The moment stretched between them, taut with tension. Nick was about to respond when the white noise generator on the table suddenly emitted a high-pitched whine, its blue light flashing rapidly.

  Maggie moved with startling speed, switching off monitors and grabbing essential equipment. "Electromagnetic interference," she hissed. "Someone's scanning this room."

  Nick rose immediately, adrenaline surging. "How close?"

  "Too close." She shoved a backpack into his hands. "Take this. Back exit through the specimen storage room. Go now, and don't contact me electronically. I'll find you."

  Before Nick could respond, three sharp knocks struck the door with deliberate precision.

  "Ms. Zhang?" A male voice, measured and authoritative. "Campus security. Please open the door."

  Maggie's eyes met Nick's, a silent message passing between them. She tilted her head toward a narrow door at the back of the lab, then turned toward the main entrance.

  "One moment!" she called, her voice suddenly transformed into that of a harried student. "Just finishing an experiment!"

  As she moved toward the front door, making deliberate noise to cover his retreat, Nick slipped through the back exit into a cramped storage room lined with refrigeration units. The air was colder here, carrying the sterile scent of preservatives and cleaning agents. A service door at the far end bore an exit sign above it.

  Behind him, he heard Maggie opening the main door, her voice pitched to sound confused and slightly annoyed. "Can I help you? I have this room reserved until six."

  "Routine security check, Ms. Zhang. May we come in?"

  Nick didn't wait to hear more. He moved silently through the storage room, his enhanced senses scanning for any sign of additional security personnel. The hallway beyond the service door would lead to a back stairwell—if it wasn't already covered.

  His hand closed around the door handle, and he paused, listening intently. Nothing from the other side. He eased the door open a fraction of an inch, peering through the crack. The corridor beyond appeared empty, but a faint shadow shifted at the far end—someone waiting just around the corner.

  Nick closed his eyes briefly, reaching for the mana that flowed through him. Not for combat, but for enhanced perception. The blue energy responded instantly, flowing to his senses, sharpening his awareness of his surroundings. With his hearing amplified, he detected the subtle electronic hum of communications equipment and the controlled breathing pattern of someone trained to maintain position for extended periods.

  Definitely security, possibly military. And they were blocking his escape route.

  Nick silently closed the door and assessed his options. The storage room had no windows, no other exits. He was effectively trapped unless... His gaze shifted upward, noting the removable ceiling tiles and ventilation system.

  Moving quickly but quietly, Nick climbed onto one of the refrigeration units, carefully sliding a ceiling tile aside to reveal the space above. The building's blueprints, which he'd studied before coming, indicated this section connected to a main ventilation shaft that ran throughout the third floor.

  With practiced efficiency, he pulled himself up into the ceiling space, replacing the tile behind him. The confined darkness enveloped him, dust tickling his nostrils as he oriented himself. The ventilation shaft should be two meters to his right.

  As he carefully shifted his weight across the ceiling frame, he heard the main door to the lab open wider.

  "—just need to verify all authorized personnel," a man's voice said, professional but with an underlying tension.

  "I'm the only one scheduled for this lab today," Maggie responded, her tone perfectly balanced between cooperation and annoyance. "You can check the reservation system if you want."

  "We have reason to believe an unauthorized individual may have accessed this area," a second voice stated. "Have you noticed anyone suspicious?"

  "Just you guys," Maggie retorted. "Look, I have components cooling that need attention in five minutes. If you want to search the place, go ahead, but I've got deadlines."

  Nick reached the ventilation shaft, a metal passage large enough for him to crawl through, though barely. He eased himself into it, moving with glacial slowness to prevent any sound that might give away his position. The metal was cool against his palms as he began the painstaking process of navigating away from the lab.

  "We'll need to check the storage room as well," the first voice said, growing louder as they approached the back area.

  "Fine, whatever. Just be careful with the specimen refrigerators. Some of those samples are irreplaceable."

  Footsteps approached the storage room door. Nick froze, suspending his weight perfectly to prevent the metal from creaking. Below him, the door opened, light spilling into the storage room.

  "Clear," said the security officer after a cursory inspection.

  "Told you," Maggie replied. "Now can I get back to work?"

  Nick remained motionless until the storage room door closed again, then resumed his careful progress through the ventilation system. According to the building layout, if he continued forward for approximately twenty meters, he would reach a junction that connected to a vertical shaft leading down to the second floor, where another maintenance access panel would allow him to exit.

  As he inched forward in the confined space, a realization struck him. The security team hadn't been thorough in their search—almost as if they didn't actually expect to find him. Their approach had been methodical but shallow. Not the actions of people who genuinely believed their target was present, but rather a performance designed to flush out someone they suspected might be there.

  This wasn't a random security check. It was a calculated move in an ongoing game—testing reactions, gathering information, establishing presence. Whoever was behind this was still gathering intelligence rather than moving to capture.

  That suggested he still had time—but not much.

  After fifteen agonizing minutes of silent progress through the ventilation system, Nick reached the access panel he sought. He waited, listening carefully for any sounds from the hallway beyond. Detecting nothing, he carefully removed the panel and lowered himself into an empty maintenance closet on the second floor.

  He emerged into a quieter part of the building, straightening his clothes and adopting the casual demeanor of a student going about routine business. The backpack Maggie had given him felt heavy against his shoulders, its contents unknown but certainly valuable enough for her to risk discovery by passing them to him.

  Nick made his way to the nearest exit, senses heightened for any sign of pursuit or surveillance. The campus beyond seemed deceptively normal—students crossing the quad with backpacks and coffee cups, professors hurrying between buildings, the evening air filled with the usual ambient sounds of university life. Checking his watch, Nick realized he would need to hurry to make it to his Intro to Business class at 2:00 PM. While part of him wanted to immediately find a secure location to examine the contents of Maggie's backpack, maintaining his normal schedule was crucial for avoiding suspicion.

  Besides, Professor Williams' class was one place where he might gather additional information about Callahan Industries through the business case studies they examined. As he cut across the quad toward his dorm to retrieve his business textbook, Nick mentally assessed his housing situation. His room was compromised—that much was clear from the surveillance equipment he'd detected.

  But moving off campus the third week of classes would draw attention, creating a paper trail and potentially cutting him off from valuable information sources within the university. On the other hand, remaining in a monitored environment put him at constant risk. He would need to carefully weigh his options—perhaps create a secure secondary location while maintaining his dorm room as a decoy.

  His thoughts drifted to his grandparents in Colombia. The memory of their sprawling estate nestled against the mountains provided a stark contrast to his current situation—hunted on a campus that increasingly felt like a gilded cage. His grandfather, Francisco Valiente, had been a military strategist before retiring to manage the family's coffee plantation. The old man had always seemed to know more than he let on, his keen eyes missing nothing, his casual references to "the old ways" taking on new significance now that Nick understood the truth about mana.

  Would his grandparents be able to explain what was happening to him? The merging with Arlize, the blue energy, the sealed memories now breaking free? His mother's words echoed in his memory: "The summer of your nineteenth birthday, go to your grandparents. They will reveal everything."

  He was still months away from that deadline, but with Callahan Industries closing in, waiting until summer might not be an option. If Maggie's secure communication system worked, he could at least warn them that he might need to arrive earlier than planned. This problem gave his mind something concrete to focus on, a welcome distraction from the revelation about his parents and the disturbing childhood memories that had surfaced. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

  A text message from an unknown number: "Thursday lecture – trap or opportunity? Either way, prepare carefully. Data key in backpack. Use only on air-gapped system. – M"

  Nick deleted the message immediately after reading it, scanning his surroundings once more. No obvious tails, but that meant little in an age of surveillance cameras and remote monitoring. He continued toward his dorm, mind racing through contingency plans. If his room was bugged, he couldn't examine the backpack's contents there. He needed a secure location, an air-gapped computer as Maggie had suggested, and time to process whatever information she had passed to him.

  More importantly, he needed to understand why they were watching him specifically. What did they know—or suspect— about his connection to Arlize? His rebirth? About the mana that now flowed through his veins? And what role had his own parents played in creating whatever he had become?

  If his grandparents had the answers, finding a way to reach them safely was now just as critical as evading Callahan's surveillance. The classified ad system Maggie planned to use might work, but Nick wondered if there might be other, older channels his family had established—perhaps something connected to the mana itself. He made a mental note to search his memories for any hint of alternate communication methods his parents might have taught him.

  The early September sunset painted the campus in shades of amber and gold as Nick walked to his dorm, the beauty a stark contrast to the web of secrets and surveillance closing around him.