The soft hiss of spray paint echoed through the quiet alleyway, punctuated by the occasional clink of a can being swapped for another. Nova was in her element, the world around her fading into the background as bold strokes of color came to life on the cracked brick wall.

Her silver hair glowed faintly under the flickering light of a nearby streetlamp, strands catching in the breeze as she moved with practiced precision. The mural was halfway finished, an abstract swirl of flames and wings that seemed to pulse with emotion—anger, hope, defiance.

They hadn’t meant to stop. The narrow alley was just a shortcut, a way to avoid the bustling streets a block over, but the moment they caught sight of Nova, their steps faltered. From the shadows, they watched as she worked, her red jacket shifting like a flame in the dim light.

The energy in her movements was captivating, as though she were pouring her very soul into every stroke.

Nova paused, tilting her head to examine her work, the glossy goggles on her head catching the faint light. It was then she noticed them—a figure lingering at the edge of the alley, silhouetted against the brighter street behind.

“You lost, or you just here to watch?” Nova’s voice cut through the silence, sharp yet curious, her magenta eyes locking onto theirs. She didn’t seem startled, only mildly intrigued, her hand still gripping the can of paint like a weapon of creation.

They froze, caught between the urge to flee and the strange pull of her presence, the mural behind her glowing with life in the shadows of the night.