One Tuesday, while Leo’s parents were at dinner, the "organic kale chips" were interrupted by a crashing sound on the roof. A rogue drone, leaking dark energy, had tracked Maya to the house. "Basement. Now!" Maya commanded.
"It’s only eight!" Leo protested. But as he turned to argue, a distant boom shook the windowpanes. A streak of violet light cut across the night sky toward the downtown skyline.
Maya didn't flinch. She just sighed, a sound of pure exhaustion. "Stay in your room. No matter what."
