Felicity first noticed the pain when she reached the bend in the riverside path where the jacarandas leaned over the water, and the air always smelled faintly of sunscreen and wet concrete.
It was late morning, the kind of bright Sydney day that made everything look clean even when it was not. The river glittered. The pedestrian path was busy in that calm, everyday way.
A couple walked side by side with iced coffees. A man jogged with a pram, earbuds in, face set like he was winning an argument with himself. Two teenagers sat on the low retaining wall, taking turns recording each other, laughing at their own footage. Further up, near the outdoor exercise bars, a small group moved through a circuit routine, counting reps aloud.
Felicity had been jogging for twenty minutes, not chasing a goal so much as running away from the feeling that her life had become a room with the windows closed. She did not even like running; she just liked the part afterwards, when her body was quiet, and her thoughts stopped biting. Her shoes hit the pavement in a steady rhythm. Her breath was measured. Her ponytail slapped gently against the back of her neck. She wore an oversized t-shirt and shorts that were a little too tight at the waistband, because she had promised herself she would stop buying the next size up and then did it anyway.
The sun warmed the tops of her shoulders, and the world looked like it had no intention of changing.
Then her hips began to throb.
At first, it was faint, like the beginning of a cramp. A deep ache that could have been from overdoing it, sleeping wrong, or simply being thirty minutes older than she wanted to admit.
She slowed slightly, jaw tensing as she tried to ignore the growing discomfort. She told herself to loosen her stride and tried to breathe through it, but the ache did not settle; it deepened, sending a cold flicker of worry through her.
It felt too specific, too concentrated. The pain had a location; it was expanding from rather than from a specific muscle.
The sensation crawled along her pelvis, then pressed downward, sharp and insistent. Her stomach clenched. Felicity's pace dropped to a walk. She glanced around, searching for meaning the world couldn't provide. People passed her without looking twice.
Somewhere behind her, someone's dog barked in a sharp, annoyed rhythm. Felicity's thoughts raced: Was she overreacting? She told herself she was fine. Just stress, she insisted—like a doctor would dismiss a woman's pain, irritation mixing with her fear. Her throat tightened with the urge to scream or cry.
She told herself it was nothing because she had spent most of her life surviving by making herself small enough that nothing became a problem, but the pain disagreed. It flared suddenly, an intense pulse that stole her breath and sparked terror behind her eyes. Felicity stumbled off the path and onto the grass, hands bracing on her thighs. Shame burned as she bent forward, hair falling around her face, eyes squeezing shut as she tried to ride it out. Her vision swam, her pulse erratic—her heart jittery, helpless, and a thin sheen of sweat broke across her spine. She pressed her lips together to keep from making a sound.
A scream cut through the air. Felicity lifted her head. Across the path, near the café kiosk, a man had dropped his coffee. The paper cup hit the ground and rolled, spilling a dark streak over the pavement.
He stood very still for a heartbeat, one hand raised to his throat, face twisted, eyes wide with confusion, like he had only just realised he was in pain. He made a noise that was not a word; he fell to his knees. People froze around him. A woman reached for him, hesitant, then pulled her hand back as his body jerked. His shoulders tensed, his spine arched in an unnatural way.
A wet-cracking sound carried across the open space, too loud to be a minor injury; someone yelled for an ambulance. Someone else started filming, because that was what people did when reality threatened to make them helpless.
Another scream rose from further up the path. A ripple ran through the crowd, like the surface of water disturbed by a stone. A stroller tipped slightly.
One of the teenagers dropped their phone, someone cursed loudly, and Felicity's attention snapped to the pain in her hips, which sharpened at the same moment the river sloshed violently against its banks.
Then the screaming started, not one scream, several. Felicity turned just as a man near the railing staggered backward, clutching his head. A crack split the pavement near the edge of the path.
It spread fast, too fast, splitting the concrete like glass under pressure. People began to move without knowing where they were going.
Another tremor hit, harder this time, and the air changed. She smelled earth where there had been none before, damp soil and rot, something green and raw.
A shout rose from the road; someone yelled that the ground was splitting. Someone else yelled to get away from the river.
The earth beneath Felicity's palms cracked open, and something unnatural happened—a vine punched through the soil. It didn't grow slowly; it erupted upward, thick, wet, and dark green, as if forced into being by a power beneath the surface.
It burst upward through fractured soil like something breaking free from a cage.
It forced its way through concrete, through seams in the pavement, through the edges of the retaining walls. People screamed as the path warped. Benches lifted and tipped as roots split the ground beneath them.
Felicity tried to stand, but her hips burned. Buildings across the river shuddered visibly, and glass cracked. A distant car alarm began to scream. Somewhere, something collapsed with a deep, thunderous crash that vibrated through the air.
Heat flooded her lower spine, and for a split second, fear and relief collided in her chest. Then, a sudden, sharp release; the pain vanished. Her breath rushed out, shaking. And something replaced it—a new, electric sensation that set her nerves buzzing. Felicity gasped and sagged forward onto her hands, struggling to steady herself.
Something heavy lay against the grass behind her. As she turned, she saw a tail resting there. Pale and gold, thick and soft, its fur caught the sunlight, appearing almost luminous. As she moved, the tail followed, responding as if it had always been part of her. Her hair fell forward as she moved, now longer than before, the transformation unmistakable. It spilled over her shoulders in bright waves, holding the light around her face. Her reflection appeared in the black screen of a fallen phone nearby. She looked totally different—not dramatically, but unmistakably, as though she had become something more than human. Her skin was clearer beneath the dust, her lips fuller, and her cheekbones more defined. Her eyes were larger beneath lashes, shadows cast across her cheeks. She looked composed in a way that did not match the chaos around her.
Like someone who had stepped out of a film set into the wrong world, her ears twitched. The sensation was weirder than expected, so she lifted a shaking hand to touch them. They were no longer fully human, now softly pointed and covered in fine, pale fur.
Set slightly higher than before, a shout pulled her attention back to the path. The man who had collapsed was moving again. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Someone crouched beside him, speaking urgently.
His back arched, his head snapped up, and his eyes were unfocused. He lunged, and the person helping him screamed as his teeth sank into their arm.
People scattered.
More tremors rolled through the ground, the earth split again, and vines forced their way upward through broken pavement. Thick green growth surged from beneath the soil, splitting concrete and wrapping around nearby fixtures.
They did not grow slowly. Lamp posts tilted as roots pushed beneath their bases. Benches lifted and toppled as the ground fractured further. The city began to change. Across the river, sections of road buckled. Cracks ran up the sides of buildings. Windows shattered.
Felicity pushed herself to her feet; her balance felt different but not weaker, no, her body moved with unfamiliar ease. Around her, more people were collapsing, her tail dragged behind her as the tremors continued.
Vines spread along the ground and up vertical surfaces, forcing their way into the city's structure. The riverbanks were already being overtaken as roots pushed into soil and stone, and the skyline remained intact. But the ground beneath it was still shifting.
Felicity moved toward the street, and cars had begun to collide as drivers reacted to the shaking. Some vehicles were abandoned in the middle of the lane. Others sat with doors open, a man staggered across the road, blood on his shirt.
He fell.
Then rose again, his head turned toward the nearest moving figure, toward her. Felicity moved away quickly; she weaved between stalled cars and scattered debris. An overturned car blocked part of the street ahead, its undercarriage exposed and one wheel still spinning slowly.
Felicity slowed. Someone was crouched beside it. At first, she thought they were hiding, then the figure shifted, a girl. About her height, but built tighter through the shoulders and legs. Like someone who expected to run or fight more often than stand still.Her hair was short and blonde, cut close enough to frame her jaw, and dust streaked her skin, but her features were sharp beneath it. Her ears were not human-like; they were rounded, furred and feline.
Her hands pressed against the overturned car's frame, claws extended from her fingers, not small, not subtle.
Real.
She looked up when Felicity approached, her eyes flicking over the tail first, then the ears, and back to her face. "Well," she said, voice flat with dry disbelief. "That answers that."
Felicity glanced at the claws "You too?"
The girl lifted one hand and flexed her fingers; the claws slid forward slightly. "Yeah," she said, "lion, apparently. Which is great, because I was really hoping for something subtle today."
Another tremor rolled through the street, the overturned car creaked, and she braced against it automatically. Then glanced back at Felicity.
"At least yours looks decorative," she added. "I'm pretty sure I could open a tin can with these."
A scream sounded behind them, and both of them turned. Someone had fallen. Another person tried to help them up, but the fallen figure convulsed. The girl watched for half a second, expression tightening.
Then she looked back at Felicity "So," she said, "you running somewhere specific, or just vibing through the apocalypse?"
Felicity hesitated.
The girl snorted, "Cool," she said. "Apocalypse buddies." She pushed away from the overturned car and stepped beside Felicity.
"I don't know you," she added, "but you don't look like you're about to bite me. And right now that's a strong endorsement."
Another tremor hit. She glanced toward the shifting street and then back at Felicity. "Lead," she said. "I'll complain while we do it."
"My name's Felicity."
"Oh," the girl said. "I'm Rose."
They ran, and they crashed into a corner store. Rose shoved the door shut and dragged a rack in front of it; the aisles were stripped bare. Broken glass crunched underfoot.
"Water. Sugar. Batteries," Rose muttered, sweeping items into her bag. "Civilisation's gone, but somehow AAAs are immortal."
Felicity drifted toward a warped security mirror; she had never considered herself beautiful. The reflection staring back looked carved for appetite, then something slammed against the door.
"They found us," Rose said calmly.
The door burst inward, and a scaled, lizard-like creature lunged through the wreckage, its gaze snapping to Felicity, "Pretties," it crooned.
Rose charged, and the creature lashed out, ripping through her arm. Felicity snatched a bottle and hurled it; it shattered against scales.
Rose seized a length of rebar and drove it up through the beast's jaw. It dropped hard, and another shadow swallowed the doorway. White fur and ice blue eyes.
"No time," the bear man growled.
"And you are?" Rose shot back.
"Finch," he said, "your exit."
They ran, and under the overpass, Felicity faltered. Heat flared inside her; it felt wild and unfamiliar.
"I feel strange," she breathed, light leaked from between her fingers. Gold light poured outward; it felt warm and bright. The ache's vanished. Rose's mangled arm stitched itself whole.
"What the hell," Rose said, flexing her hand. "That was my heroic wound."
Finch drew in a sharp breath, "magic."
And suddenly, both of them were staring at Felicity like she was the most dangerous thing in the city.