Hexus

*3* Nouvel

[8:57PM, December 4, UTC +01:00]

Portia had never been so scared.

Not that the people in front of her looked scary. Maybe the boy – Nathan – was. Just a little bit. She was more scared of what was happening. This had to be some sort of nightmare. Mama was stiff, not breathing. She did not look dead. Portia wasn’t sure whether or not she would have preferred that Mama looked dead – it would have made more sense, but was far less desirable. But she was sure these people were the cause of what was happening.

Are they witches? What do they want with us?

Her heart was thumping in her chest and the air suddenly felt very cold. She couldn’t remember when she did it, but her hand was in Henri’s. He didn’t let go, which was surprising, and she was a little thankful for that. I suppose the devil you know was better than the angel you don’t, she thought. Not that Henri is a devil, but –

“Their cores are so weak,” Moira commented.
“And to think their zenith is in two months. With this amount of resonance, they might as well be ordinary people,” Nathan said as though he was disappointed.

What the hell are they talking about?

Moira clucked her tongue and stared at the floor. Portia took the moment of silence to get a good look at them. The boy looked stern, but she could tell he wasn’t always that way. He had a long, angular face with a suitably long nose and high cheekbones, and his black hair was razor-cut at the level of his chin and had a natural care-free waviness to it, the type she always tried to do but couldn’t quite get right. The girl looked effortlessly beautiful. Her hair was white, but it didn’t look bleached because the colour reached all the way to the roots. Or maybe her hairdresser is very good. She also had a long face, but hers was dainty, with bright gray eyes and a button nose and full pink lips that seemed permanently fixed in a smile. Underneath her fear, Portia felt a twinge of envy.

“What do you want?” Henri’s voice was firm, his English clear as theirs. Portia always envied how easily he could speak the language. She could too, but at the moment she couldn’t even trust herself to form a coherent sentence.

“We came to strengthen your Hub channel. It would strengthen by itself eventually – and only God knows how long that would take, with the power level of your reso-cores – but time is something we don’t have on our hands right now,” Nathan replied. 
“What are you talking about?” Henri frowned in confusion. 
“This isn’t my business or anything,” Moira interrupted, “But how did you allow your cores to starve so much?”

She was staring at Portia. Her gaze was accusing, almost angry. Portia was afraid that if she answered wrongly, she might get hurt. Or worse.

“Je ne -I don’t know?” She felt nothing but fear and confusion. Moira suddenly looked apologetic and sighed, pulling off her beret and allowing her white hair fall behind her. It made her look older and wiser, but with her youthful face and clothes it was also a bit contradictory. She turned to her brother, who groaned, shut his eyes and pinched his nasal bridge.

“You’re completely clueless,” he exhaled. “Of course. Sometimes, I forget that the generational effect weakens foreknowledge. It’s probably completely gone now.” He looked past them and Portia followed his gaze to rest on her immobile mother.