My girlfriend is trapped in my superpower

I woke up to someone pounding on my door like they were trying to break it down.

"If it's Bram, tell him to shove off," Lyra muttered. "It's too early for heroics."

It was Bram.

"Up and at 'em, rookie! We've got a Rift opening outside the east gate!"

I groaned, rolled out of bed, and fumbled into my gear. Mira was already waiting in the hallway when I stumbled out, perfectly composed, hair tied back in that annoyingly flawless way.

"You look like you fought a demon in your sleep," she said.

"I did. His name was insomnia."

Her smirk widened. "Cute. Try not to die before breakfast."

By the time we reached the east gate, chaos had already taken root. Merchants were abandoning carts, guards were yelling, and a jagged tear in reality pulsed just beyond the walls.

A Rift. Big one. The Captain's voice boomed over the noise. "Squad Eleven, containment. That includes you, rookie."

Bram handed me a spear—an actual metal one this time. "Don't make the shiny magic one unless you want the whole Council breathing down your neck again."

"Noted," I said.

"You're absolutely going to make the shiny magic one," Lyra sang.

We charged in. Rift beasts poured out—hulking things with too many eyes and mouths. Mira moved like liquid shadow, blades flashing. Bram fought like a sledgehammer with legs. I stuck to defense, knocking beasts back—until one got too close to Mira. Instinct flared, and a shimmering wall of frozen time erupted between her and the monster.

She spun to look at me, eyes wide. "You—"

The wall shattered, and she sliced the beast in half without breaking eye contact. "We're going to talk after this."

"She's impressed," Lyra whispered. "Or she wants to strangle you. Honestly, hard to tell with this one."

The Rift closed with a final burst of light, leaving us panting on the cobblestones. Mira stepped up beside me, close enough that her shoulder brushed mine. "You keep breaking the rules, rookie."

"Bad habit," I said.

Her lips twitched. "Don't break it."

We'd barely made it back through the gates before the healers swarmed us. My cuts were shallow—nothing more than surface burns and a few bruises—but Mira insisted I get checked.

"It's nothing," I said as a healer dabbed my arm with something that smelled like burning mint.

"Good. Then you have no excuse to dodge my questions," she replied, stepping just far enough into my space to make me aware of how close we were.

Bram, blissfully oblivious, waved and headed toward the tavern. "Don't wait up, lovebirds!"

"We are *not*—" I started, but he was already gone.

Mira crossed her arms. "You said you weren't hiding anything. That was a lie."

I shrugged. "It was more of a… strategic omission."

Her brow arched. "You froze time… again. In the middle of the street. In front of witnesses. You don't think the Council's going to double their surveillance after this?"

"She's worried about you," Lyra said. "Or she's worried for herself. Either way, it's cute."

I ran a hand through my hair. "I didn't mean to do it. It's… reflex."

Mira studied me, her gaze sharp enough to cut. "Reflexes like that get you killed—or make you dangerous enough that the Guild decides to 'contain' you."

"Contain?"

"Don't ask unless you want nightmares."

We started walking toward the barracks, the streets quiet after the earlier chaos. She didn't say anything for a while, just kept pace beside me. Then, softer, almost grudgingly:

"…You saved my life today."

I blinked at her. "What?"

"That beast. If you hadn't—" She shook her head. "Just… don't make me owe you again, rookie. I hate debts."

"Guess I'll have to start charging interest," I said before I could stop myself.

Her lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close. "Careful. I might actually pay it."

By the time we reached the barracks, she was already halfway up the stairs, throwing a glance over her shoulder. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be worse."

"She totally likes you," Lyra whispered.

"She totally wants to stab me," I muttered.

"Same thing."

Sleep didn't come easy. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw that Rift—twisting, tearing, spilling nightmares into the world. And Mira's face right before I froze time… yeah, that wasn't helping either.

"You're thinking about her," Lyra teased. "Should I leave you two alone?"

"I'm trying to sleep," I hissed into the dark.

"Exactly. Perfect time to daydream about romance."

I groaned, rolled over, and decided a glass of water might shut both of us up. The barracks were mostly silent—except for voices drifting down the hallway near the Guildmaster's office.

I should've ignored them but I didn't.

"…too dangerous to keep unmonitored," one voice said, low but tense.

"He's raw talent," another replied. "We could train him—"

"Or we could end him before he becomes a problem. You know what the Council prefers."

I froze in the shadows, heart pounding. End him?

There was a pause. Then the first voice added, "And the girl—Mira—she's too close. If he pulls her in, we'll have two problems."

"Well," Lyra whispered, "that's ominous."

I backed away quietly, feet barely making a sound. My mind spun. They were talking about me. About Mira. About ending me.

Back in my room, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall.

"Told you they'd be fun to hang out with," Lyra said.

"This isn't funny."

"No. But it's exciting."

The next morning came too soon, the sun stabbing through the window like it had a personal grudge. I dragged myself downstairs to find Bram shoveling breakfast like he'd never seen food before.

"Rough night?" he asked around a mouthful of bread.

"You could say that."

Mira appeared at the table, dropping into the seat across from me. "Eat fast. We've got another assignment."

"What kind of assignment?" I asked.

She slid a thin folder toward me. "Escort duty."

Bram groaned. "Babysitting rich people who think they're invincible. My favorite."

"Ohhh," Lyra cooed, "field trip!"

The client was a young nobleman named Lucien Dravonne—sharp suit, smug smile, and the kind of hair that probably had its own servant. He was waiting at the Guild gates with two trunks of luggage, a cane he didn't need, and the aura of someone who thought he was the most important person in a hundred-mile radius.

"Ah, my protectors," he said, giving us a once-over that made my skin itch. "I trust you're competent."

Bram muttered under his breath, "Nope. Total amateurs. We thought this was a parade."

Mira shot him a warning look. "We'll get you to your destination, Lord Dravonne."

He smiled—too wide. "Good. I have… sensitive cargo."

Sensitive cargo turned out to be a small wooden chest that Lucien kept clutched to his chest like it might bite him if he let go. The weird thing? Every time I looked at it, my head felt… fuzzy.

"That thing is singing," Lyra said. "Do you hear it?"

"Hear what?" I murmured under my breath.

"A pulse. A hum. Same as your power, but… wrong."

I frowned.

Mira glanced at me. "Something wrong, rookie?"

"Just—thinking."

The road out of the city was quiet for the first hour, save for Lucien's endless commentary about how dangerous travel was and how much more it would cost to replace him if he died.

Bram finally snapped. "You know, I think I preferred the Rift beasts. At least they only screamed when you stabbed them."

Lucien ignored him. "We must be cautious. I've… made enemies."

"Oh?" Mira's tone was casual, but I caught the sharpness in her eyes.

"Old business disputes," Lucien said, though he didn't sound convincing. "Nothing to worry about."

"Liar," Lyra whispered. "That chest of his? Whatever's in it is why he's a walking target."

We were rounding a bend in the road when Mira suddenly raised a hand for us to stop.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Listen," she murmured.

I did. At first, nothing. Then—rustling in the trees. Too heavy to be the wind. Too slow to be animals.

Bram's grip tightened on his axe. "Company."

Lucien went pale. "Already?!"

From the shadows of the trees ahead, figures emerged—half a dozen, dressed in black leather, faces hidden, weapons drawn.

Mira's voice was cool. "Guess we're skipping the peaceful part of the trip."

"Oh, good," Lyra purred. "Time for fun."

The first bandit lunged toward Lucien, blade glinting in the sunlight. I didn't think—my hand shot out, and the air between us cracked, light surging into a barrier. The blade slammed against it with a ringing clang.

Bram was already moving, axe swinging in a brutal arc that sent the attacker sprawling. "Two for me!" he yelled, even though he'd only hit one.

Mira's movements were pure precision—each step calculated, her sword flashing once, twice, and another enemy was down.

"You could show off too, you know," Lyra said.

"Fine," I muttered.

I willed the light forward, shaping it into a spear, but this time—without meaning to—it split into three. They zipped through the air, pinning weapons to the ground and forcing the bandits back.

Lucien stumbled away, clutching his chest*the chest, I realized—and that's when I felt it again. The pulse. Louder. Sharper. Like it was reaching for me.

The last bandit tried to run. Mira didn't let him, slamming the hilt of her sword into his back. He dropped like a sack of bricks. Bram wiped his axe on the grass. "And that's breakfast."

"You're disgusting," Mira said, but she smirked all the same.

As we caught our breath, Lucien knelt beside his precious cargo, checking it over with trembling hands. "It's safe… thank the stars."

I stared at him. "What's in there?"

He froze, eyes flicking to mine. "Nothing you need to know."

"Liar," Lyra hissed.

The pulse thrummed again—once, twice—and I swore I heard a faint whisper inside my head.

Not Lyra. Not my own thoughts. Something else. The whisper was cold, deliberate, and carried only two words:

Set me free.