Jennifer Nova Edwards knew better than to believe what she sometimes saw. She was different, they always said. She had an overactive imagination, was what they told her, even though she knew they were lying. Her mother did not want to believe them, but she did. Jennifer knew her mother believed the other doctors, so she began to keep quiet about what she saw.

The seven-year-old whimpered in her bed. The shadows were growing; she just knew it. She felt them tugging at her mind and her heart. There was something else, though, not the same as the darkness. Part of it, but not.

In the middle of the night, the little girl pushed her blankets off her bed and turned on her light. The shadows kept coming. She was terrified. She felt something familiar. A presence not ever known but somehow always there, and it comforted her. But the shadows touched her toes, and they were so cold and powerful. She ran with her instinct.

Aki startled awake. A scream resounded through the small apartment. She got out of bed and rushed to her daughter’s small room. The girl never screamed. She got scared often, but never cried or fussed. Aki was terrified to think what was wrong.

When she arrived, there was nothing to find. Her child, Gray’s daughter, the little girl she loved with all her heart was missing. Aki panicked.

"Nova?" she called, hoping Jennifer had just run to a different part of the apartment. She tried to keep calm as she realized that the girl was nowhere to be found, and that the door was still locked. She quickly found that electricity seemed to be lacking in everything but the little light in her daughter’s bedroom.

She could not call for help.

Close to tears, she returned to the only lit room in the house and fell back in sudden terror. A man was sitting on the bed, not a stranger. His eyes gleamed oddly, and a look of failure was evident on his face. He looked up as Aki entered the room, and did his best to smile.

"I got here as soon as I could, but I’m too late," he mumbled, his voice seemingly distant, "She’s gone, isn’t she?"

Aki could not find the strength to respond. This had to be a dream. She swallowed and stepped back against the wall. Gray stood and held his hands up, palms outward.

"It’s okay, I’m real," he smiled, "Sorta."

"How?" Aki choked, "And where’s Nova?"

"It’s a long story," Gray said quietly, dropping his hands to his sides, "But we have to find your daughter, Aki, she’s… It’s hard to explain. She’s important."

"Our daughter," Aki stated, "she’s yours too, you know."

"I didn’t think like that," Gray replied, "She’s ours but she’s something else, too."

Aki was in a state of shock. Her mind was not accepting of the facts her senses brought to her. Jennifer, the psychologists said, was schizophrenic. Schizophrenia was almost always a genetic disorder, which meant Aki herself might have it. An onset at her age was not uncommon. She reached out to touch this dream, this image, but Gray stepped back before she could.

"You don’t want to," he said sadly, "trust me, not unless it’s necessary."

Aki deemed it necessary, but pulled her hand back as the heat of his body seemed to burn her. The scared, questioning look was met with one of quiet sorrow.

"I’m like the Phantoms, Aki, I’m part of Gaia."