The afternoon sun streams through scattered clouds, casting dappled light across Priya's modest backyard. Despite the chill in the air—temperatures hovering around 50 degrees—the three young women have claimed what might be the last sunny day before tomorrow's predicted rainstorm. They're dressed for the borderline weather: denim shorts, crop tops, and hoodies they can pull on when the breeze picks up.
Three empty heart-shaped chocolate boxes lie scattered on the grass between their lawn chairs, casualties of a Valentine's Day sugar binge that lasted exactly fifteen minutes.
MAEVE
(stretching in the sunlight) I'm calling it now—this is the best Valentine's Day ever. No boyfriends, no drama, just chocolate and my favorite people.
JI-WOO
And sunshine. Don't forget sunshine. After three weeks of gray skies, I was starting to forget what vitamin D feels like.
PRIYA
(eyes closed, face turned to the sun) Mmm. I can hear people all over campus thinking about their dates tonight. So much anxiety and hope and excitement. It's actually kind of sweet.
MAEVE
Are you filtering properly? You're not getting overwhelmed?
PRIYA
(smiling) I'm good. It's like... background music now. I can tune in or tune out. The training actually worked.
Ji-woo sits up suddenly, her spatial awareness pinging like a radar. Her eyes focus on the driveway, though she can't see it from where they sit.
JI-WOO
Someone's coming. Government car. Three people. No... four. One's staying in the vehicle.
Maeve's precognitive reflexes kick in, showing her fragmentary images: serious faces, badges, a tense conversation. Nothing violent, but definitely not social.
MAEVE
Whatever this is, it's official. And it's not about Constellation. This is something else.
Priya's eyes snap open, her telepathic senses suddenly alert. She probes outward, touching the approaching minds.
PRIYA
(tensing) There's... heaviness. Urgency. And one of them—I can't read her at all. She's blocking me. Completely.
The three exchange glances and rise in unison, moving toward the fence as the sound of car doors closing reaches them. They arrive at the chain-link barrier just as three figures round the corner of the house.
An elderly woman in her seventies leads the group, moving with surprising energy. She wears practical clothing—jeans, a fleece jacket, sensible shoes—and carries a worn leather bag over her shoulder. Her silver hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and her eyes are sharp and assessing.
Behind her, a uniformed police officer—female, late thirties, with the cautious posture of someone who's seen too much—scans the area out of habit.
The third figure wears Navy dress blues. Male, mid-forties, with the bearing of someone accustomed to command but trying to appear non-threatening.
ELDERLY WOMAN
(pointing directly at the three) That's them right there.
Priya pushes harder with her telepathy, trying to penetrate the woman's shields. Nothing. It's like hitting a wall made of silk—soft but absolutely impenetrable.
How is she doing that? Even General Winters can't block me this completely. It's like her mind is wrapped in some kind of psychic insulation. But I don't sense hostility. Just... caution. And underneath, fear. She's afraid of telepaths.
MAEVE
(stepping up to the fence, her copper hair catching the light) We don't know who you are, but if you want to talk to us, you better have brought chocolate. It's Valentine's Day, you know.
The elderly woman's face breaks into a surprised smile. She reaches into her leather bag and produces not one, not two, but three red heart-shaped boxes of chocolate—the expensive kind from the fancy candy store downtown.
ELDERLY WOMAN
(handing them over the fence) I never come to a negotiation unprepared. Also, I have a granddaughter your age. I know the rules of Valentine's Day.
Ji-woo accepts the chocolates, her spatial sense telling her exactly where each person is standing, their relative tension levels, even the slight tremor in the police officer's hand that suggests she's nervous.
PRIYA
(crossing her arms) Okay, this is weird. Who are you people and what do you want? Is this part of the Constellation project?
She directs the question to the Navy officer, assuming he's the reason for the official visit.
NAVY OFFICER
I have no idea what the Constellation project is. I haven't been read into that program. This is a separate matter that the Navy has an interest in, but it's not the primary reason we're here.
ELDERLY WOMAN
Hi. My name is Mabel. I'm a remote viewer, and I work with the police department from time to time helping detectives find clues. Every once in a while, I help them solve crimes.
She pauses, glancing at Priya with a mixture of apology and understanding.
MABEL
I'm sorry I blocked you, Priya. I'm always nervous around telepaths—you scare me, if I'm being honest. I've spent fifty years building my shields. But you seem like a sweet girl, so... go ahead and read my intent. I'll lower the barriers.
The psychic wall dissolves, and Priya gasps as information floods into her consciousness. Not chaotic or overwhelming, but organized, clear, deliberate. Mabel is feeding her thoughts in a structured way, like handing someone a document to read.
PRIYA
(eyes widening) Oh, wow. That was a rush. I've never received thoughts that fast or that clearly. I see. Lost children. Immigrant children who vanished after crossing the border illegally. Fifteen of them, between ages five and fourteen. They disappeared from a processing center in Texas three days ago. And there are two other kids—teens—who ran away from a Navy program. You think the three of us can help you find them. How did you hear about us? Did the Navy tell you?
MABEL
(shaking her head) Oh no. I had no idea you were involved with the Navy until just now. I was trying to locate the children using remote viewing, and I kept seeing you three. Again and again. In every session, your faces appeared. I saw you holding hands in a circle, and then suddenly you knew where the children were. So I figured I was being guided to you for help. The universe was pointing me in your direction.
Maeve's precognitive flashes intensify. She sees herself in a car, in an airplane, in a strange city. She sees crying children, darkness, fear. But also hope, rescue, reunion.
JI-WOO
(glancing at the sky where clouds are beginning to gather) Let's go inside. It's getting too cold to talk over the fence, and this sounds like a longer conversation than a five-minute briefing.
They reconvene in Ji-woo's mobile home, the largest of the three and the unofficial meeting space for their triad. The living room is small but tidy, decorated in minimalist style with hints of Korean influence—a calligraphy scroll on one wall, a small collection of K-pop figurines on a shelf.
Through the bedroom door, Ji-woo's adoptive parents peek out curiously. Her mother makes eye contact with Ji-woo, who gives a small nod—everything's okay, I'll explain later.
The six of them arrange themselves in the available seating: the three girls on the couch, Mabel in the armchair, the police officer and Navy man standing near the door.
MABEL
I appreciate you hearing us out. I know this is unusual, showing up unannounced on Valentine's Day with a request like this. But those children don't have time for us to go through official channels and paperwork. Every hour that passes, they're in more danger.
MAEVE
Tell us everything. What exactly happened, and what are you proposing we do?
MABEL
Three days ago, fifteen children vanished from a temporary shelter in Eagle Pass, Texas. They were unaccompanied minors who'd crossed the border—mostly from Central America. Their case files show they were waiting for placement with sponsors or family members already in the US. Then, between the evening bed check and the morning count, they were just... gone. No signs of forced entry, no signs of struggle. Fifteen children, ages five to fourteen, vanished like smoke.
OFFICER VALDEZ
(speaking for the first time) Homeland Security and Border Patrol are investigating, but they're coming up empty. No camera footage, no witnesses, no leads. That's when they called in Ms. Moreno here.
MABEL
I've been doing remote viewing for law enforcement for thirty years. I can find missing persons about sixty percent of the time—not perfect, but better than nothing. So I went into my viewing protocol, and I saw the children. They're alive. They're together. They're being held somewhere. But...
She pauses, struggling with how to explain.
MABEL
Something is blocking me from getting a clear fix on their location. It's not a natural block—it's like there's a psychic dampening field around them. I can see them, but I can't see where they are. That's when I started seeing you three in my visions. I saw the red-haired girl, the dark-haired girl, and the girl with the perfect skin. I saw you join hands, and suddenly the block dissolved. You found them.
PRIYA
(to the Navy officer) And where do you fit into this?
JOHN (NAVY OFFICER)
Two of the missing aren't immigrant children. They're participants in a Navy program—similar to yours, I'd guess, though I don't have the clearance to know the details of what you're involved in. They're teenagers, seventeen and sixteen, with... abilities. Psychic abilities.
The three girls exchange meaningful looks. Another psychic program. How many does the military run?
JOHN
Their names are Tyler and Chloe. Tyler's an empath—he can feel the emotions of everyone around him. Chloe is a medical intuitive—she can sense illness and injury in others. Three days ago, they were doing a field exercise in San Antonio when Tyler suddenly became overwhelmed. He said he could feel terror and despair from hundreds of directions, all converging. Children, he said. Lots of children in danger.
JOHN
Before their handlers could stop them, Tyler and Chloe took off. They were trying to help. They thought they could find the children and lead us to them. Instead, they vanished too. We tracked their phones to a warehouse district in Dallas, then the signals went dead. We've been searching for three days with no results.
JI-WOO
So you've got fifteen immigrant children and two teenage psychics, all missing, possibly all in the same location, and you think we can find them.
MABEL
Not think. Know. I've learned to trust my visions. When I see something this clearly, this repeatedly, it's the universe telling me this is the path. Will you help? Please?
Maeve looks at Priya and Ji-woo. They don't need words—they've worked together long enough to communicate volumes with a glance. Maeve sees possibilities branching: help and succeed, help and fail, refuse and live with regret. Priya feels Mabel's desperate sincerity and the Navy officer's grim determination. Ji-woo senses the spatial coordinates in Mabel's mind, faint but present, like a map drawn in disappearing ink.
MAEVE
If you can help, this is what we'll do. Mabel, you'll go into your remote viewing trance like you normally do. We'll hold hands and link our abilities—precognition, telepathy, and spatial sense. Together, maybe we can punch through whatever's blocking you. Is that acceptable?
MABEL
(relief flooding her face) Yes. Thank you. Let's begin.
They rearrange themselves: Maeve, Priya, and Ji-woo form a triangle on the floor, sitting cross-legged, hands joined. Mabel settles into the armchair, closing her eyes, beginning the breathing exercises that induce her remote viewing state.
Officer Valdez and John watch in fascinated silence. Ji-woo's parents have emerged from the bedroom, standing in the hallway, witnessing something they don't fully understand but recognize as important.
The room seems to dim, though the overhead light hasn't changed. The air grows thick, charged with psychic energy.
MABEL
(voice distant and dreamy) I'm entering the viewing state. Focusing on the children. Seventeen souls. Lost. Afraid. Reaching out...
The three girls feel the moment their consciousness touches Mabel's. It's like three streams joining a river—separate sources merging into one powerful current.
Together now. Maeve's precognition showing probable futures. Priya's telepathy reaching across distance. Ji-woo's spatial sense mapping the terrain. And Mabel's remote viewing—fifty years of practiced skill—guiding them through the psychic landscape.
They see the children. Huddled in darkness. Some crying, others silent with shock. Tyler and Chloe are there too, trying to comfort the younger ones despite their own fear.
PRIYA
(speaking in trance) I can hear them. They're sad and afraid and need help. They're crying for their families. They don't understand what's happening.
MAEVE
(speaking in trance) I get the sense that we will find them, but not here. Far away. I see a city. Buildings. Urban environment. Not the border. Not San Antonio. Somewhere else.
JI-WOO
(speaking in trance) I found them. They're... the signal is fuzzy, but I can feel them. They're in Dallas. That's all I know for certain. Dallas, Texas. The location is being scrambled, but the city-level coordinates are clear. Dallas.
They emerge from the trance simultaneously, gasping like swimmers surfacing from a deep dive. Mabel's eyes open, and she's weeping with relief and exhaustion.
MABEL
Dallas. You're right. I could feel it when we were connected. The block lifted just enough. They're in Dallas.
JOHN
(already pulling out his phone) That matches where we lost Tyler and Chloe's signal. Dallas. I'll arrange immediate transport. We can have a plane ready at the regional airport within the hour.
He pulls three blue Navy jumpsuits from a bag he'd left by the door.
JOHN
Here. Put these on so you don't mess up your clothes. This could get dirty.
Maeve stands abruptly, her precognitive flashes going haywire. She sees something dark, something wrong, something that makes her instincts scream caution.
MAEVE
Hold on, Mr. Navy Guy. This doesn't feel right. Why is the Navy even involved in missing immigrant children? Where's Homeland Security? Where's the FBI? Those are the agencies that should be handling this. I'm not going anywhere with you until we get more details. There's something dark about all this.
She turns to Priya.
MAEVE
Priya—do your thing.
Priya focuses on John, pushing past his surface thoughts to the deeper truth beneath. Unlike Mabel, he has no shields, no training to keep telepaths out. His mind opens like a book.
PRIYA
(laughing with surprise) Mr. Navy Guy is not very good at blocking his thoughts. He's part of a special project—sort of like Constellation, but different. It's called Project Lighthouse. Two of the kids in that program detected a group of children being abducted, a whole truckload of them, at a rest stop on I-35. They thought they could help, but they got abducted too, and then the Navy lost track of them.
John's face flushes with embarrassment at being read so easily, but he doesn't deny it.
JOHN
Yes. That's accurate. Look, I get that this seems sketchy. But here's the truth: we want to get our children back—Tyler and Chloe are our responsibility. Homeland Security and the FBI are looking for the missing immigrant children, but they haven't located them yet. So if we can find our two Lighthouse participants, it's win-win. We can tell Homeland Security and the FBI where the immigrant children are as well. We really need your help.
JOHN
The Lighthouse Project is classified, so we want to do this with as few people as possible. Please don't talk about this to anyone outside this room. Anything you see that's out of the ordinary, just keep it to yourself. Can you do that?
The girls look at each other, having a silent conversation through glances and micro-expressions.
PRIYA
Okay. We'll go. But it's late already—are we spending the night in Dallas? If so, we need to pack a few things. And we need to tell our parents something. We can't just disappear.
JI-WOO
(to her parents in the hallway) We're helping find some missing kids. It's legitimate. This is Officer Valdez from the State College PD—you can check her credentials. We'll be back tomorrow.
Ji-woo's mother looks skeptical but trusting. She knows her daughter is involved in things she doesn't fully understand. She nods.
A government car had picked them up and transported them to the small regional airport where a private jet waited. The three girls, now dressed in their blue Navy jumpsuits, sit in the plush leather seats while John sits across from them, working on a laptop.
Officer Valdez and Mabel had stayed behind—their role complete. From here, it's a Navy operation with civilian consultants.
MAEVE
So, Navy Guy. What's your name anyway? Or is that classified too?
JI-WOO
(laughing) And I suppose your last name is Smith?
JOHN
No, it's Brown. My name is John Brown. Not the historical abolitionist, though I get that joke a lot. My parents weren't thinking about the implications when they named me.
The girls all laugh, some of the tension breaking. They don't pursue the matter further, settling instead into their seats as the jet begins its descent.
PRIYA
How long have you been running Project Lighthouse?
JOHN
Eight years. We have twelve participants—all teenagers, all with different psychic abilities. We're not as large as Constellation, and we're focused more on intelligence gathering than defense. But we're careful. We don't push the kids too hard. This... this situation with Tyler and Chloe, it was their choice to run off and help. We didn't order it.
MAEVE
But you couldn't stop them either. When you feel someone in danger, especially kids, it's hard to just stand by. I get it.
The jet lands at Dallas Love Field just as twilight settles over the city. A nondescript sedan waits on the tarmac, and they transfer directly from plane to car without going through the terminal.
As they drive through Dallas, Ji-woo's spatial sense kicks into high gear. She can feel the children—faintly, like a radio signal through static—but she can't pinpoint the exact location. Something is still blocking her.
JI-WOO
There's a loop around Dallas, right? Drive the loop, and I'll point in the direction of the children. After we get enough coordinates, we can triangulate their approximate location. Once we're close, I can find them more accurately.
JOHN
(to the driver) Take us onto I-635. We're going to do a full circuit.
For the next ninety minutes, they drive the perimeter highway that circles Dallas. At regular intervals, Ji-woo points in the direction she senses the children. John plots each vector on his laptop, creating a gradually narrowing cone of probability.
Priya keeps her telepathy open, catching fragments of terrified thoughts. Maeve watches the future possibilities shift and realign with each new data point.
JOHN
(studying his screen) Got it. The vectors converge on a neighborhood in University Park, near SMU. That's a wealthy residential area—not where you'd expect to find a kidnapping operation.
MAEVE
That's exactly where you'd run one. Wealthy neighborhood, security systems, nobody expects anything bad. Perfect cover.
The driver heads toward University Park. As they enter the neighborhood, Ji-woo's ability sharpens dramatically. She can feel the children clearly now—their fear, their confusion, their desperate hope.
JI-WOO
There. That house. The large one with the brick facade and the iron gate. They're in the basement.
The car parks half a block away. John makes several quick phone calls—code words and coordinates. Then they wait.
Within forty-five minutes, the quiet residential street fills with law enforcement. Dallas PD SWAT, FBI tactical teams, Homeland Security agents—all moving with coordinated precision. They surround the house, cutting off every exit.
John turns to the three girls.
JOHN
You three stay here. The driver will take you to the hotel as soon as the operation begins. I need to go in with the teams to extract Tyler and Chloe before they get mixed in with the immigrant children. Homeland Security will want to process everyone, and I need my two back at the facility tonight.
The tactical teams breach the house simultaneously—front, back, and side entrances. Through the car windows, the girls hear shouting, see flashlights sweeping through windows, sense the sudden spike of adrenaline and fear from inside.
Then, silence. The operation takes less than five minutes.
Priya suddenly goes pale, her face draining of color. She clutches the armrest, and for a moment, Maeve thinks she's going to be sick.
MAEVE
Priya? What's wrong? Are you going to throw up?
PRIYA
(tears streaming down her face) I saw them. When the teams went in, I felt the children's thoughts open up—they weren't being blocked anymore. I saw what was happening to them. Maeve, it was disgusting. Child trafficking. Sexual exploitation. I can't... I can't get the images out of my mind. It's making me sick.
Ji-woo puts an arm around Priya, and Maeve takes her hand. They sit like that, three girls holding each other, as law enforcement brings out the traffickers in handcuffs and the children on stretchers—wrapped in blankets, shielded from cameras, heading to hospitals and safety.
DRIVER
Time to go, ladies. Hotel's ready for you.
The hotel is upscale—one of those places where the government parks VIPs. The suite has two bedrooms, a full kitchen, and a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Dallas.
A concierge greets them at check-in, informing them that 24-hour room service is available and that all charges go to the government account.
Priya has recovered somewhat, though her eyes still look haunted. They order dinner—comfort food, nothing fancy—and eat in relative silence.
JI-WOO
We did good today. Seventeen people are safe because we helped.
PRIYA
I know. I just... I wish I hadn't seen what I saw. Some things, once you know them, you can't unknow them.
They watch a mindless movie on the huge TV, mostly for the noise and distraction. Eventually, exhaustion wins, and they retreat to their bedrooms.
The next morning, a car picks them up and takes them back to Love Field. John is waiting by the private jet, looking tired but satisfied.
JOHN
Thank you. Tyler and Chloe are back at the facility, receiving medical care and counseling. The fifteen immigrant children are in the care of Homeland Security—they're being treated well and will be reunited with their families when possible. Six traffickers are in federal custody. This was a major win.
MAEVE
Are Tyler and Chloe okay? I mean, physically they're probably fine, but mentally?
JOHN
They're resilient. They've been through trauma, but they're receiving the best care available. They wanted me to thank you specifically. They said they could feel you searching for them, and it gave them hope.
The flight home is quieter than the flight out. They're all processing, all tired, all dealing with what they've experienced.
Back in State College, back in the mobile home park, back in their normal lives. They sit in Ji-woo's living room, still wearing the blue jumpsuits, debriefing in their own way.
MAEVE
So tell me. What exactly was happening to those kids? You said it was bad, but how bad?
PRIYA
I can't say it out loud. Just use your imagination, and then imagine it was a thousand times worse. I will say one thing I'm supposed to keep secret, though. Those two Navy kids that John was looking for—Tyler and Chloe. He was in a hurry to get them back to their facility before anyone could examine them too closely.
JI-WOO
Why? What's special about them?
PRIYA
(lowering her voice) Because they're not human. Not entirely. They're hybrids. Part human, part something else. John's thoughts were very clear about it—he needed to get them back to their "home environment" before Homeland Security doctors discovered the anomalies.
Stunned silence.
MAEVE
You're saying the Navy is running a program with alien hybrids?
PRIYA
I'm saying Tyler and Chloe have DNA that isn't from this planet. Whether they know it or not, whether they were created that way or born that way, I don't know. But John knows. And Project Lighthouse is a lot more than just psychic intelligence gathering.
JI-WOO
Constellation. We learned the Adjacent Realm beings want peace and friendship. Now we learn the military has hybrid programs. The world is a lot stranger than most people realize.
MAEVE
And we're right in the middle of it. Constellation, Lighthouse, interdimensional diplomacy, and now this. What's next?
PRIYA
(managing a small smile) Midterms. What's next is we study for midterms. Because as weird as our lives are, we're still college students, and I'm not failing chemistry because I spent Valentine's Day rescuing trafficked children from Dallas.
They laugh—exhausted, cathartic laughter. They've saved lives, discovered secrets, and survived another day of being extraordinary people trying to live ordinary lives.
✦ MISSION COMPLETE ✦
17 MISSING PERSONS LOCATED AND RESCUED
6 TRAFFICKERS IN FEDERAL CUSTODY
PROJECT LIGHTHOUSE: CONFIRMED AND CLASSIFIED
TRIAD ONE: OPERATIONAL AND EFFECTIVE
Next mission: Pass midterms
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