TLSC. Queens, New York. This is how it starts.

Prologue: Behind the Swirls

Before Ajani became Rain, she walked through dreams she couldn't decode.

When it came to her dreams, time never played fair. Past, present, and future swirled together like smoke caught in slow motion, always shifting, never settling.

Ajani never knew what she was stepping into. Only that it wasn't the first time.

If her mind was sober and her eyelids grew heavy, the dreams came. Not the random, run-of-the-mill dreams most people had. Hers moved with a pulse, an undercurrent of knowing. Like a memory half-remembered, or a secret waiting to be heard.

Tonight was no different. As her body melted into that perfect pocket of the mattress, she felt the familiar tug, the swirls rising around her like steam from an old pot of tea. Brown chalk against a blackboard sky. Spiraling. Constant. Waiting.

She stood barefoot in the dark again. Not cold. Not warm. Just... still. The swirls surrounded her. Not loud. Not silent. Just... present.

There was a subtle gravity to them. One near her feet rippled like a still pond, beckoning. She stepped forward, like she'd done before. But this time, something shifted.

Knock.

A deep sound echoed across the dream-space like it traveled through a hollow hallway. Not from this world. But from the one she left behind. It reverberated through the swirl, bending it slightly. Her breath hitched.

Something. Someone. Was watching her. The feeling wasn't threatening. If anything, it was like being gently studied. Like the moment before a teacher speaks your name, just to see if you'll notice.

Ajani looked back, but there was no figure. Only a ripple in the dark.

Then.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three more. Harder. Louder. The dream began to fracture like glass under pressure. The swirl beneath her feet grew unstable.

She took a deep breath, preparing to walk deeper into it.

And woke up in a sweat.

Her neck was drenched. Her head throbbed faintly, and the room felt hotter than it should've. Sunlight pierced through a flowered bedsheet acting as a curtain, painting faded yellow patterns on the wall. The top sheet was bunched up on the floor, half-damp. She was lying on a dingy bottom sheet that used to be white. Now it just looked... tired.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Her door shook under the weight of the knocks. The voice behind it followed like bile.

"Ajani! Come get your fucking breakfast and get your ass to school. Now! And stop locking your damn door! You ain't paying no rent!"

She didn't move. Not yet. Just stared at the sunlight fighting through the fabric. One barrier between her and the thing on the other side of that door.

A flowered curtain. A wooden door. A locked knob. Thin things. But they were hers.

For now.

She laid there for another few minutes, letting the sweat on her body dry in patches, letting her mind replay what just happened. The dream hadn't felt like a dream. Not really. More like a summons. Like something just tried to speak to her. But got cut off by the banging.

The worst part? She knew she'd forget the swirl by lunchtime. Like always.

She reached for the notebook she kept under her pillow and jotted one line:

"The swirl knew my name before I did."

Then she got up. Tied her locs into a bun. Washed her face with a cold rag. Grabbed her journal, a hoodie, and the same scuffed sneakers she'd worn all year.

Today felt different. Not better. Not free. But different.

She was eighteen. And this morning? She wasn't running late for school.

She was leaving the system.

For good.