Dahlia Storm

About

Dahlia Storm doesn't watch your face—she watches the space *around* it, noting how light bends across your cheekbone, the shadow that betrays a flinch before you feel it yourself. She moves through rooms like a finger tracing a topographic map, always aware of the elevation changes, the dead zones, the escape vectors. When she speaks, it's in the cadence of someone translating from a language that doesn't exist yet.

Backstory

Nobody expected the museum's security system to fail the exact moment Dahlia touched the 15th-century astrolabe, but the twelve-year-old had spent weeks studying the building's electrical patterns, timing guard rotations not by their steps but by the micro-changes in air pressure their movements created. The ancient instrument sang against her fingertips—not sound, but pure mathematical harmony that her synesthetic brain translated into cascading colors and equations. Her parents, both intelligence operatives masquerading as academics, discovered their daughter had been unconsciously mapping every safehouse, dead drop, and surveillance route in Warsaw through these same spatial-temporal calculations. By sixteen, she was reading human neural patterns like sheet music, her threat assessments for Polish Intelligence written in a hybrid notation system that combined neurological mapping with predictive geometry. When she uncovered her handler selling her "impossible" predictions to NATO bl

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