Morning in New York did not feel like morning.
It felt like the aftermath of something the city had already survived without bothering to tell anyone about it.
Eve Carter discovered this while standing in front of a cracked bathroom mirror that had once belonged to someone who probably had normal problems.
The glass was slightly warped, one corner stained black where Nyx had seeped through the night before and then retracted like nothing had happened.
Her reflection looked… mostly human.
Mostly.
That word mattered now.
Because “mostly” was doing a lot of work.
Dark strands of hair hung messily over her eyes, and beneath her skin faint, almost imperceptible shifting patterns moved like ink under paper.
Not visible unless she focused.
Not always there unless Nyx was awake.
Nyx was, unfortunately, awake.
“You are staring at yourself again,” Nyx said inside her head, tone dry and mildly judgmental.
“I’m checking if I still look like me,” Eve muttered.
“You look like you.
Approximately.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It is statistically accurate.”
Eve exhaled through her nose and leaned closer to the mirror.
The black residue at her collarbone pulsed faintly in response, like it was listening.
That alone still made her stomach tighten.
Nyx noticed.
“You are anxious.”
“I have alien goo living in my nervous system.”
“You say ‘goo’ like it is insulting.”
“It is literally inside my blood.”
A pause.
Then Nyx, thoughtfully: “Technically, I am also your blood now.”
“That did not help.”
Nyx didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, Eve felt a subtle shift—like something inside her was stretching, recalibrating.
Not painful.
Just… aware.
Their shared body was becoming less like possession and more like negotiation.
That was worse in some ways.
Eve turned on the faucet.
Cold water hit her hands, and for a moment the contact sent a ripple of sensation through both of them at once.
Nyx reacted instantly.
“Hunger detected,” Nyx said.
“Oh my God, you cannot label everything like a system alert.”
“It is efficient.”
“It is creepy.”
“It is survival.”
Eve splashed water on her face, trying to ignore how her reflection briefly flickered—eyes darkening for half a second before returning to normal.
She hated that part most.
The loss of consistency.
The instability of identity.
Nyx spoke again, quieter this time.
“You are afraid of changing.”
Eve paused.
“…Yeah.”
A rare silence followed.
Not empty.
Just shared.
Nyx was learning silence recently.
It didn’t suit her.
Or maybe it suited her too well.
Because when Nyx wasn’t joking, or teasing, or suggesting morally illegal solutions to hunger, she sounded… old.
Not ancient.
Just something that had existed long enough to stop pretending it wasn’t aware of consequences.
“I do not wish to destroy you,” Nyx said eventually.
Eve laughed once, short and disbelieving.
“Comforting.”
“That was not humor.”
“I know.”
Nyx hesitated again, and Eve felt it—something like hesitation physically inside her chest.
“We are changing together,” Nyx added.
Eve stared at her reflection.
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
“That’s what scares me.”
Outside, New York was already loud.
The city didn’t ease into chaos.
It started there and occasionally escalated.
Eve had stolen a hoodie from a donation bin near a laundromat and pulled it low over her face as she walked.
The fabric smelled faintly like detergent and someone else’s life.
Nyx disapproved of it.
“It restricts mobility.”
“It hides me.”
“You are already hidden.”
“I was a sewer monster on the internet twelve hours ago.”
“That was flattering terminology.”
Eve almost smiled at that.
Almost.
Her body felt different today.
Not stronger in a dramatic way.
More like… responsive.
Like every movement had been slightly optimized without her permission.
She tested it without thinking—jumped slightly too high off a curb.
Landed too softly.
A man nearby dropped his coffee.
Nyx sounded satisfied.
“Adaptation progressing.”
“I didn’t ask for upgrades.”
“You did not need to.”
“That’s not how consent works.”
Nyx didn’t answer, but Eve felt something like amusement ripple through her.
That was another new thing.
Nyx had emotions that weren’t violence-adjacent.
That was arguably more terrifying than the violence.
Eve crossed the street toward a campus building she was technically supposed to attend now.
Fake identity.
Forged documents.
Nyx had called it “identity acquisition.” Eve had called it “fraud.”
They compromised on “survival strategy.”
The university loomed ahead—ordinary brick, glass doors, students with backpacks and overpriced coffee cups acting like reality was stable.
Eve stopped outside.
Her stomach tightened.
“This is a bad idea,” she said.
“You require social integration,” Nyx replied.
“I require not exploding in a lecture hall.”
“You will not explode.”
“That is not reassuring coming from you.”
Nyx paused.
“…Probability of explosion: low.”
“WHY DID YOU EVEN RUN THE CALCULATION—”
Eve stepped inside before she could lose more sanity.
The lecture hall was worse than combat.
That was her first conclusion.
The second was that nobody here knew what was happening in New York at night, or if they did, they had decided collectively to ignore it in favor of deadlines and caffeine dependency.
Eve sat near the back.
Nyx immediately started analyzing everyone.
“Female subject left row: high stress, low sleep.”
“Do not do that.”
“Male subject center: deceptive posture, potential aggression.”
“I said STOP THAT.”
“I am processing environment.”
“You’re people-watching like a predator.”
“I am a predator.”
Eve pressed her fingers to her temple.
Already regretting everything.
The professor began speaking.
Something about introductory theory, academic frameworks, and concepts Eve could not retain because part of her brain was currently arguing with an alien symbiote about whether a girl three rows ahead had “efficient bone structure.”
Then it happened.
Nyx went quiet.
Not absent.
Focused.
Eve felt it immediately.
“What?” she whispered internally.
Nyx didn’t respond.
Instead, something shifted in Eve’s perception.
A sensation like attention being redirected through her body.
And then—
she felt it.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
A wave of awareness not her own.
It came from the left side of the room.
A presence.
Bright.
Sharp.
Controlled.
And underneath it—
exhaustion.
Loneliness so well-hidden it almost passed as confidence.
Eve’s breath caught slightly.
“What is that?” she asked.
Nyx answered slowly.
“I do not know.”
That alone was alarming.
Nyx always knew something.
Eve looked toward the source of the feeling.
A girl sat near the window.
Dark hoodie slightly too large.
Hair tied loosely.
Fingers tapping lightly against a notebook without really writing anything.
She looked normal.
Almost aggressively normal.
But the emotional imprint didn’t match.
There was something else layered underneath.
Like pressure held behind glass.
Nyx spoke again, quieter.
“She is… unusual.”
“I can feel that,” Eve whispered.
“That is not your ability.”
“…What?”
Nyx hesitated.
“I am not projecting that sensation.”
Eve went still.
“Then what is it?”
A pause.
Then Nyx said something that made Eve’s stomach drop slightly.
“Something is resonating between us.”
Eve blinked.
“Between us and her?”
“No.”
Another pause.
Longer.
More careful.
“Between her and me.”
For the rest of the lecture, Eve couldn’t focus.
Nyx had gone unusually silent, which was never a good sign.
Silence from Nyx was like hearing a machine stop mid-operation.
After class ended, students flooded out.
Eve stayed seated longer than necessary.
Nyx finally spoke again.
“I want to observe her.”
“That is a very creepy sentence.”
“I want data.”
“Still creepy.”
The girl with the hoodie stood up, gathering her things.
She moved with quiet efficiency, like someone used to existing without being noticed.
Eve stood too, before she could think better of it.
Nyx immediately reacted.
“Approach?”
“I don’t know,” Eve admitted.
“That is not a plan.”
“I’m improvising.
It’s my life now.”
Eve followed at a distance.
The girl exited the building, walking toward the courtyard.
She stopped near a fountain, pulling out her phone.
Eve hovered awkwardly at the edge of the walkway, suddenly aware of how insane she probably looked.
Then Nyx spoke again.
“She is aware.”
Eve froze.
“What?”
“She knows you are there.”
That was impossible.
The girl didn’t turn.
Didn’t react.
But her fingers paused on her phone screen.
Then—
without looking—
she spoke.
“You’re not very good at following people.”
Eve’s soul briefly left her body.
Nyx, instantly alert: “Threat level increased.”
The girl turned slightly.
Not fully.
Just enough for Eve to see her eyes.
Calm.
Observant.
Not afraid.
Just… interested.
And then she added, almost casually:
“You’re the one from last night, aren’t you?”
Eve’s brain stopped functioning for approximately three seconds.
Nyx whispered:
“This is the mutant girl.”
And for the first time since waking up in this universe—
Eve understood one thing very clearly.
Her life had just gotten significantly worse.
Or significantly more complicated.
Possibly both.