The roar of the crowd was deafeningâa tidal wave of sound that reverberated through Ava Novaâs body. Madison Square Garden was packed to capacity, every elated face glowing in the light of their phones as they screamed her name. Ava stood at the center of it all, radiant in a sequined jumpsuit that glittered like starlight. Booking an event like this was the culmination of her lifeâs work. Blood, sweat, and more than a few tears had brought her here, and the feeling was indescribable. As Ava strutted across the stage, a strange tingle traced her spineâfleeting but insistent. She shook it off with practiced ease, her smile never faltering. She was a professional, after all.
Avaâs heart raced as she delivered the final chorus of her breakout hit, âLarger Than Life.â Her commanding presence held the crowd spellbound; in that moment, she felt less like a performer and more like a force of nature. This was itâthe moment she had dreamed of for years. All those miserable formative years acting on tacky childrenâs sitcoms and suffering through the exploitative pageantry of dance recitals had finally paid off. This level of success was something others spent their entire lives chasing to no avail. Yet here she stood: an indisputable star at just twenty-five. As the song reached its final notes, she prepared to step offstage and bask in the calm of her green room.
That was when the heat came on.
It started as a faint warmth in her chest, spreading outward in waves. At first, she dismissed it as post-performance adrenaline. But as the searing sensation intensified, it became impossible to ignore. Something was wrong. Her body began trembling, wracked with spasms as her hands grew slick with sweat, making it impossible to hold the mic stand.
Her knees buckled.
The mic slipped from her hand, clattering to the stage. The crowdâs cheers faltered, replaced by murmurs of confusion. Ava doubled over, clutching her stomach as a strange, crackling energy traveled through her limbs, as though her body had become a furnace of tiny coals radiating heat. Panic attack? She hadnât had one in years. Besides, this felt⌠different.
âIs she okay? Whatâs happening?â someone shouted, their voice laden with fear.
Ava convulsed. The sequins on her shimmering jumpsuit split apart and fell to the ground as her arms and legs stretched like taffy, her torso expanding in proportion. The stage groaned beneath her growing mass, its supports creaking ominously under the strain.
âGet outta here!â a stagehand yelled, waving at the crew as he fled.
Avaâs boots burst violently as her feet swelled, her toes pressing against the stageâs edges. The first crack echoed through the arena as the supports gave way, the sharp tang of burnt wiring filling her nose as sparks leapt from severed cables. Beneath her palms, the concrete crumbled like wet sand under her weight.
Seconds later, a loud tear signaled the demise of her jumpsuit, its remnants lying in a heap. Now naked, Ava reflexively cupped her hands over herself in a futile attempt to salvage some modesty. Her body stretched beyond reason, her joints groaning in rebellion. Panic gripped her, distant and muffled, like a scream swallowed by static. Vulnerability overwhelmed her, far surpassing anything performance anxiety could conjure.
âStop filming and help me move her!â a man yelled, dragging a stunned woman away from the debris while another bystander aimed their phone at the unfolding chaos.
Ava surged upward, her head crashing into the ceiling with a deafening boom. Glass and steel rained onto her hair and the crowd below as the roof collapsed, exposing her to the night skyâand the city beyond.
âN-no,â Ava stammered, her trembling voice barely audible despite her size. Her enormous, exposed body quaked. âThis canât be happening to me.â
Her gargantuan hands clawed at the ground, trying to steady herself, but every frantic movement only caused more destruction. Her fingers crushed rows of seats like brittle twigs. One foot slipped into the audience, flattening dozens beneath her bare sole. The crunch was so sickeningly loud that it made Ava wince.
A security guard sprinted toward the stage but froze as Avaâs colossal hand swept nearby, obliterating a row of chairs. Nearby, a middle-aged woman shielded an injured elderly man, dragging him toward the nearest exit as camera flashes continued to flicker, documenting the carnage through dispassionate lenses.
The pop star froze, her stomach twisting as her gaze fell on the wreckage at her feet. Mangled bodies lay scattered among the debris, twisted beams and shattered glass piled around them like burial mounds. The moans of the injured and dying rose to her ears, forcing her to confront the scale of her unintentional destruction.
âNo⌠no, no, no,â Ava murmured, her wide eyes brimming with tears as she struggled to comprehend the devastation. âWhat have I done?â Her voice cracked as she instinctively pulled her bloodied foot back, inspecting it with desperate hope. Maybe it wasnât as bad as it looked. But the truth was worse: fragments of bodies clung to her wrinkled sole, smeared and broken like insects crushed beneath a careless step.
She shuddered. There was no denying it. People were dyingâbecause of her.
âI didnât mean toâI didnâtââ Her words crumbled into incoherent stammers.
The crowdâs screams intensified, drowning out her attempts to speak.
âSheâs going to kill us all!â a man bellowed, his voice cracking with panic.
âThereâs a way out through the garage!â a woman shouted, waving toward a crumbling exit corridor. âMove, now!â
Avaâs chest tightened as the cacophony of terror and rage grew. The accusatory glares of fleeing survivors pierced through the haze of her transformation, each glance cutting her like glass. She stared at her hands, dirty and dusted with shards of metal and glass, tinged red with blood.
âThis canât be real,â she murmured, almost dissociative.
And then, amidst the chaos, a single voice rang outâcalm, reverent, and somehow louder than the rest.
âSheâs more than human⌠sheâs divine,â a man whispered, his words trembling with awe.
Ava blinked, momentarily stunned. She turned her head toward the source of the voice, her shadow sweeping across the stage like a storm cloud. The faint arcs of electricity and sparks from the ruined stage lighting barely illuminated the scene, but it was enough. A small group of fans had dropped to their knees, their faces painted with wonder.
âGoddess!â one of them shouted, raising their arms as though in worship.
âFor Christâs sake, get out of here!â another voice barked, dragging one of the kneeling fans by the arm. âYouâre gonna get killed!â
âNo,â the man insisted, his voice trembling but resolute. âLook at her! Sheâs⌠sheâs a goddess!â
Avaâs lips parted, but no words came. Her gaze darted between the destruction around herâthe flattened rows of seats, the lifeless bodies, the crumbling remains of the stageâand the small group kneeling in awe. The way they looked at her, as if she were the center of the universe⌠wasnât that what she had always craved?
âStop it. Iâm not a goddess!â she snapped, her voice cracking with equal parts frustration and desperation. But even as the words left her lips, they felt hollow. She didnât believe them herself.
The remaining crowd continued to flee, trampling over fallen chairs and one another in their rush to escape. Some paused just long enough to gape at her impossible scale, their faces frozen in a mix of horror and disbelief. Others simply stared, too stunned to move. But the small group of worshippers near the stage remained, their devotion unwavering.
âBless us, goddess!â one of them cried, tears streaming down his face.
Avaâs stomach twisted. âIâm notâŚâ Her voice faltered as she tried to mount a response, finding herself speechless before an audience for the first time in years. The sheer gravity of her situation silenced her, leaving her to wrestle with a confusing mix of guilt, horror, and something else she couldnât yet name.
Instinctively, she reached out, her huge hand brushing aside the wreckage of the stage. Her fingers moved with the precision of a performer, the slightest twitch causing wood and steel to crumble like sand. The worshippers erupted into cheers, their faces glowing with joy at what they saw as a display of her divine might.
âYouâre all insane!â a fleeing fan shouted, their voice nearly drowned out by the growing swell of activity.
Avaâs gaze lingered on the worshippers, their devotion an unsettling balm against the chaos she had caused. It was absurdâridiculous, evenâbut the way they looked at her, like she was their savior, infected her mind with unsettling feelings.
Her mind was reeling at a thousand miles per hour. She surveilled the demolished arena around her, the mangled bodies, the ruined stageâand then back to the kneeling fans. This was too much. She needed to get away.
Rubbing her temple, Ava stepped carefully over the wreckage that had been Madison Square Garden. Everything felt different. The night air was sharper, the sounds of the city more pronounced. Her bodyâonce the finely tuned instrument of years of dance rehearsals and performancesâfelt alien. She glanced down at her hands, filthy and impossibly large, now the size of telephone poles. Slowly, she flexed her fingers.
âThis is insane,â she murmured, the words tinged with wonder and dread.
Her stomach growledâa deep, earth-shaking rumble that echoed through the city and sent birds scattering into the sky. Ava frowned, clutching her abdomen. She hadnât eaten in hours, but how could she possibly find nourishment now?
She scanned the cityscape, her massive frame casting shadows over rooftops. Then, inspiration struck. She reached out, plucking a water tank from the roof of a nearby building. With a single squeeze, the metal crumpled in her hand, releasing a cascade of water that gushed into her mouth. Thousands of gallons disappeared down her throat in seconds.
The remaining crowd, scattered across nearby streets, gasped audibly at the sight.
âI guess this city wonât miss one water tank,â Ava muttered dryly, though the quiver in her voice betrayed her unease. She stood, towering over the skyline, and stretched, her muscles stiff from the tension of the last few minutes. Her foot accidentally toppled a streetlight, and she glanced down with an exasperated sigh.
âOops,â she muttered weakly. Her attempt at softening the situation with levity fell flat, even to herself. The weight of her actions pressed harder than the ruined streetlight. It was all so absurd, but there was no room for laughterânot when her every movement left destruction and terror in its wake. She wouldnât be able to rely on the crutch of self-deprecation the way she had as a young starlet cutting her teeth in show businessâ this was life and death.
Her thirst quenched for now, Ava wandered aimlessly through the city, her footsteps echoing like thunderclaps. Each step left a crater in the asphalt, sending tremors through the surrounding blocks. Shattered windows, overturned cars, and gaping sinkholes marked her pathânot out of malice, but as an unavoidable consequence of her sheer existence.
She paused briefly, crouching to rest her manicured hands on her knees. Her manicured nails, so meticulously polished just hours ago, now gleamed with dirt and fragments of shattered glass. In a nearby alley, a group of streetwalkers clung to each other, trembling, their wide eyes fixed on her.
âPlease⌠donât be scared. I didnât mean for this to happen,â she boomed, her voice warbling with guilt despite her attempt to sound calm. But the group didnât move, their fear paralyzing them. She realized any attempt at a gentle tone wouldnât translate, amplified by her enormity.
Ava sighed, her breath generating a gust of wind that knocked over several trash cans. She straightened, her titanic frame blotting out the moonlight. For years, people had reacted to her presence with joy and excitement. Now, they cowered in fear. There could be no coming back from this: her career was sure to end tonight. For reasons she couldnât make sense of, however, the idea of that didnât feel as devastating as she might have imagined it would. Perhaps it was because this, whatever âthisâ was, felt bigger than any performance or public image, both more and less real at the same time.
Ava turned away from the alley, her gaze falling to the pavement beneath her feet. She had started scanning the ground instinctively, her every step now a cautious act to avoid crushing somethingâor someoneâelse. It was tedious and disorienting, constantly looking down, but she supposed it was necessary to avoid creating more damage than was unavoidable at her new size.
Her foot hovered over a fire hydrant, and for a moment, she hesitated.
The hydrant seemed impossibly small, insignificant in contrast to her monumental presence. It looked more like a childâs toy than a vital piece of city infrastructure. She flexed her toes, hovering above it, struck by the sheer fragility of the object. One careless step and it would be flattenedâa warped, unrecognizable scrap of debris. A single electrical impulse in her brain was all it would take.
The thought sent a chill down her spine. A memory surfaced from her past, as vivid as it was unwanted. She had been standing in the backyard, fascinated by the bustling activity of an anthill. Sheâd eventually succumbed to morbid curiosity, crushing the mound in an instant beneath a sandaled foot. A puff of dirt rose into the air, and the ants had scattered in every direction, their world upended by the casual movement. Within a minute or so she had lost interest, not giving the act a second thought.
That had been years ago, but recalling it now sent her stomach churning. What had been a thoughtless act of whimsy to her must have felt catastrophic to the ants. She glanced down at the fire hydrant again, then at the jagged remains of the streetlight she had toppled minutes earlier. Was that how the people of this city saw her now? An agent of casual cruelty who could bring about cataclysmic destruction with a single step?
Avaâs foot hovered a moment longer before she shifted her weight, carefully planting it beside the hydrant. It remained intact, untouched amid the wreckage. A small victory.
Her chest tightened as conflicting emotions surged through her. She wasnât the same woman who had once crushed an anthill for amusement, was she? But now, as a giant, every movement carried the weight of that same careless power, only in a different proportion. Ava Nova glanced at the horizon, her pulse quickening as the distant wail of sirens reached her ears. She clenched her fists, unsure if the sirens meant rescueâor retaliation. Either way, the city was surely reacting to her existenceâand she had no idea what came next. There was no denying it anymore: the world was her anthill now.