Chapter 215: 215 The Interview

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215: The Interview 215: The Interview And indeed, over the next thirty minutes, representatives from supernatural communities across Ontario began arriving at Eldergrove’s gates.

Werewolf packs from Ottawa.

Witch covens from Hamilton.

A delegation of Sirens from Kingston.

Shapeshifters from smaller towns Patricia had never heard of.

All responding to Dorothy’s ancient call for alliance.

All coming to stand with Eldergrove against The Collector.

Tom watched the arrivals with wide eyes, his Texas practicality momentarily overwhelmed.

“How many supernatural beings are there?”

“More than anyone realized,” Dorothy replied.

“We’ve been hiding for so long that even we don’t know our full numbers.

But tonight, we’re not hiding anymore.”

As the sun set over Eldergrove, turning the community’s lawn into a gathering place for dozens of supernatural beings and the humans who’d chosen to stand with them, Patricia felt the weight of what they’d started.

This wasn’t just about defending one community anymore.

This was about whether supernatural beings could emerge from centuries of hiding without being hunted, controlled, or eliminated.

And tomorrow, The Collector would provide the answer.

But then Lila’s device detected something else—a signature that was simultaneously familiar and wrong, approaching from the east.

“That’s Sarah,” Mishka said immediately, her Siren senses recognizing her VoltCore colleague despite the distance.

“That’s Sarah from my work.

But her signature is—”

“Collared,” Dorothy finished grimly.

“Someone’s forced a control collar on her.

She’s being used as a walking surveillance device.”

Through the gathering darkness, they could see a figure stumbling toward Eldergrove’s gates.

Sarah from VoltCore, her face bruised, a metal collar around her neck pulsing with sickly green light.

And in her hand, a phone playing a video message.

The Collector’s face filled the screen.

“Good evening, Eldergrove.

I see you’re having a party.

How festive.

Allow me to send a gift.”

The collar around Sarah’s neck activated, and she began screaming.

Emma Henderson woke to find herself in the community center’s medical suite, her mother’s tear-stained face hovering above her.

Every part of her body hurt, but it was the silence in her mind that terrified her most—the complete absence of the supernatural frequencies she’d been amplifying just moments (hours?

days?) ago.

“Emma, thank God,” Patricia whispered, squeezing her daughter’s hand.

“You’ve been unconscious for eighteen hours.

The doctors weren’t sure if you’d—” Her voice broke.

“Did Lila shut down the false moon?” Emma asked, her voice hoarse and weak.

“Yes,” her mother replied.

“Four minutes after you collapsed, she completed the shutdown sequence.

The false moon generator overloaded and destroyed itself.

But Emma—” Patricia hesitated, “—sweetie, your Resonant abilities…

the feedback when you collapsed…”

“Are they gone?” Emma asked, already knowing the answer from the terrible silence in her mind.

“The specialists aren’t sure.

Sasha says you’ve gone into what she calls ‘resonant shock.’ Your abilities have essentially shut down to protect you from further damage.

They might recover.

Or—”

“Or they might be permanently burned out,” Emma finished quietly.

She’d known it was a possibility.

Mrs.

Callahan had warned her about historical Resonants who’d pushed too far.

Now she was one of them.

Through the medical suite’s window, she could see Eldergrove beginning to recover from the night’s chaos.

Broken windows being replaced, damaged buildings being repaired, residents moving with the exhausted relief of people who’d survived something that should have killed them.

“There’s something else,” Patricia said carefully.

“While you were unconscious, someone requested an interview.

A journalist from the Toronto Star who’s been following the supernatural integration story.

She knows about last night—about the false moon, the assault, everything.

Milla’s documentary went viral during the attack.

Millions of people watched it streaming live.”

“The whole world knows now,” Emma said, understanding the implications.

“About supernatural beings.

About what The Collector tried to do.

About us.”

“Yes,” her mother confirmed.

“And this journalist—Rebecca Chen, she’s Director Chen’s cousin—wants to interview you specifically.

She wants to talk to the teenage Resonant who saved a community by sacrificing her own abilities.”

Emma laughed bitterly.

“I didn’t save anyone.

I collapsed.

Lila saved everyone by shutting down the generator.”

“Emma, you held the line long enough for the rescue team to return with the shutdown codes.

Without you, The Collector would have forced every shapeshifter in Toronto into uncontrolled transformation hours before anyone could stop him.

You’re a hero, whether you feel like one or not.”

But Emma didn’t feel like a hero.

She felt empty, hollowed out, like some essential part of herself had been burned away in the false moon’s fire.

“I don’t want to do an interview,” Emma said.

“Mom, I just want to—”

The door opened, admitting Mishka and Bruce.

The fashion designer looked exhausted but composed, while Mishka showed visible signs of the strain she’d endured—her voice was hoarse, and she moved carefully, as if her own abilities were tender and bruised.

“Emma,” Mishka said gently, settling into the chair beside the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I pushed a freight train with my mind until something broke,” Emma replied honestly.

“Mishka, I can’t feel my Resonant abilities anymore.

It’s like they were amputated.”

Mishka’s expression showed understanding and sympathy.

“Sasha says that’s normal after extreme overuse.

Your abilities haven’t been destroyed—they’ve been put into protective hibernation by your own subconscious.

Like a circuit breaker shutting down to prevent total system failure.”

“Will they come back?”

“The specialists think so.

But Emma—” Mishka’s voice carried gentle but firm honesty, “—even if they do come back, you can’t ever push them that hard again.

What you did last night would have killed most Resonants.

The fact that you’re alive is miraculous.

The fact that your abilities might recover is almost impossible.”

“Your mother mentioned an interview request,” Bruce said, changing the subject with characteristic tact.

“Emma, you don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to.

But—” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “—the story is going public whether we participate or not.

Milla’s footage is everywhere.

News organizations are camped outside Eldergrove’s gates.

The question isn’t whether people learn what happened, but who controls the narrative.”

“You want me to do the interview to shape how people understand what happened,” Emma said, her exhausted mind still sharp enough to recognize strategy.

“I want you to have the option,” Bruce corrected.

“Rebecca Chen is trustworthy—she’s been covering supernatural integration issues fairly for years.

If you’re going to talk to any journalist, she’s the best choice.

But Emma, only if you’re ready.

Only if you want to.”

Emma looked out the window at Eldergrove’s residents working to rebuild their community.

She saw Mrs.

Pemberton reinforcing wards while Mrs.

Callahan—Dorothy—consulted with other Sirens who’d arrived from across North America, drawn by news of the attack.

She saw Riley helping coordinate security improvements, their shapeshifter abilities fully restored after their temporary sacrifice at the archive facility.

She saw her father working with Julian, the investment banker turned tactical planner looking more alive than Emma had seen him in years.

“What would I even say?” Emma asked.

“Hi, I’m sixteen, I just discovered I’m a witch, and I nearly died fighting a two-hundred-year-old conspiracy to enslave supernatural beings?”

“That’s actually a pretty good start,” Gillian said, appearing in the doorway with her tablet.

“Emma, I’ve been monitoring public response to the documentary footage.

Do you know what people are saying?

They’re calling you the future of integration.

A teenager who chose to protect others even at enormous personal cost.

You’re becoming a symbol.”

“I don’t want to be a symbol,” Emma protested.

“I want to be a normal kid who goes to school and worries about homework instead of whether her magical abilities will ever work again.”

“That ship has sailed,” Gillian said bluntly but not unkindly.

“The moment you appeared in that footage, using Resonant abilities no one knew existed to counter The Collector’s weapon, you became public.

The question is whether you help people understand what they saw, or whether you let others define you.”

Patricia squeezed Emma’s hand.

“Sweetie, it’s your choice.

Whatever you decide, your father and I support you.

But Gillian’s right—you’re already part of this story.

The interview is just a chance to tell your side.”

Emma closed her eyes, feeling the weight of decisions that seemed too large for a sixteen-year-old to make.

But then again, she’d just survived channeling power that should have killed her.

Maybe she was stronger than she thought.

“Okay,” Emma decided.

“I’ll do the interview.

But only if my parents can be there.

And only if she agrees to let me review the article before publication.”

“Already negotiated,” Gillian said with satisfaction.

“Rebecca Chen agreed to those terms.

She wants an honest conversation, not a sensational expose.

The interview is scheduled for this afternoon, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I’ll be ready,” Emma said, though she wasn’t sure that was true.

Rebecca Chen arrived at three o’clock, escorted through Eldergrove’s now heavily fortified gates by Julian’s security team.

She was a woman in her forties, professional and composed, carrying a recording device and a notebook but leaving the camera crew outside per Emma’s request.

They met in the Hendersons’ living room, the same space where Emma’s abilities had first manifested less than two weeks ago.

Patricia and Thomas sat on either side of their daughter, presenting a united family front.

Mishka and Dorothy had asked to observe, sitting quietly in the background as witnesses to whatever Emma chose to say.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk with me,” Rebecca began, setting her recorder on the coffee table.

“I know this has been an incredibly difficult time for your family and community.

Emma, let’s start with the basics—when did you first discover you were a Resonant?”

Emma took a deep breath.

“Eight days ago.

My math homework turned into butterflies.

My parents thought I was having a breakdown.

We all did, actually, until Mrs.

Pemberton—she’s one of our neighbors—identified what was happening.”

“And eight days later, you were using Resonant abilities to counter a weapon designed by The Collector’s organization.

That’s…

remarkably fast development.”

“Too fast,” Emma admitted.

“I pushed my abilities beyond safe limits.

That’s why they’ve shut down now—protective response to prevent permanent damage.

The specialists say I might recover, but I might not.

That’s the cost of trying to be a hero before you know what you’re doing.”

Rebecca’s pen moved across her notebook.

“You sound like you regret your actions.”

“I regret that they were necessary,” Emma corrected.

“I don’t regret trying to protect my community.

But I wish—” her voice caught, “—I wish I’d been better prepared.

Stronger.

More experienced.

Maybe then I wouldn’t have collapsed when everyone needed me.”

“Emma, you held a defensive position against a weapon that was specifically designed to overwhelm any supernatural resistance,” Rebecca said gently.

“From what I understand, you maintained that position for over three hours while an assault team attacked your community and your father was infiltrating an enemy facility.

That’s not failure.

That’s extraordinary courage.”

“It didn’t feel like courage,” Emma said quietly.

“It felt like terror and desperation and blood running from my nose while my brain tried to process things it wasn’t designed to handle.”

Rebecca looked at Patricia and Thomas.

“How did you, as parents, handle watching your teenage daughter being used as a weapon against attackers?”

Thomas’s jaw tightened.

“We hated every second of it.

But we also knew Emma was doing what only she could do.

Our choice was between letting our daughter risk herself or watching our entire community be destroyed or captured.

That’s not really a choice—it’s a nightmare with only one ethical answer.”

“The Collector’s organization specifically targeted your family,” Rebecca continued.

“You were marked for elimination, Mr.

Henderson.

Emma was marked for capture.

Did you ever consider simply leaving?

Taking your family somewhere safe?”