But they do.
Of course they do.
I don’t know when, or if, I’ll be back. The realization guts me. Vanessa’s laugh flashes through my mind, that rare but contagious kind of joy that made everything feel lighter. Aaron’s sassiness always pushes me to try new things. I love them both, but Van… There's just something different about her. That rare kind of female friendship, honest, protective, full of love. We held each other up through things no one else ever saw. The idea that I might never see her again is unbearable. It feels like someone’s pressing a hand to my chest, slowly, relentlessly.
And then there’s Dad.
I pause, hands in my wet hair, staring at the foggy mirror as if it might give me an answer. He’s still unconscious, and no spell, no potion, no ancient chant has been enough to reach him. What if he never wakes up?
What if I never get to say goodbye?
Or worse, what if he’strappedin there, somewhere, waiting for me to save him, and I just... fail?
The walls close in on me, the feeling dizzying, making me reach for the sink. The cold ceramic under my skin grounds me,and I force a breath through my lungs, shaking off the heaviness. Scooping some gel, I try to focus on the present, on something I can actually control.
Of course, there’s no blow dryer. The universe just loves to test me. Letting my hair air-dry is fine, butfineisn’t going to cut it today. I can’t afford to feel small or unprepared. I need to feel like myself, even if I have to fake it. Because if I don’t, this thing, this chaos, will eat me alive.
A small thug tingle from deep in my belly like the wind brushing over your skin, I shiver. A quiet, ancient hum in my blood, and I lean into it, call upon it.
“Cym Cha,” I whisper.
Warm air swirls from my palm, weaving through my hair, a breath of something old andmine. The strands lift, dry, and fall perfectly into place. And for a second, just one, I’m amazed. I did that,me. No spell book, no potion, no Kai or Nalaka to back me up. Just instinct, and I let myself smile, really smile. That rare kind of happiness that bubbles up uninvited, light and unburdened. It feels good, foreign, but good.
Except the moment doesn’t last, it never does. The weight returns as a heavy tide, crashing in hard and cold. The storm inside me isn’t gone, not even close, but at least on the outside, I look somewhat ready. And sometimes, that’s all the armour you’ll need. Good thing my original wardrobe is basically a tribute to black. Makes dressing for surprise monster attacks conveniently simple.
As I look through the clothes, something hard knocks against my hand: my phone. Hope sparks for half a second, then dies just as fast. I turn it on, only to watch the screen glitch. Flickering, green static bubbles across it. I manage to catch a few messages before the screen fades completely, dying with a lovely blue tinge.
Van : Girl, wtf, you better call me or I’ll be at your house in an hour.
Aaron : You think you can go on a date for the first time in forever and not give us updates?!
5 MISSED CALLS — Aaron
20 MISSED CALLS — Van
Aaron : Lyna, answer the damn phone!
Van : FYI I called the poli?—
Fuckingfantastic.
My life’s a complete shit show, I grunt into my hands, refusing to let dread take the wheel or worse, let my bestie,panic attack, show up uninvited. Kai wasn’t lying about the electronics either. One more thing he’s right about, and I’m really starting to resent that. Today’s non-negotiable: I am getting answers. Half-truths and cryptic answers aren’t going to cut it anymore.
This time, I turn to the closet and dig through the back. And that’s when I find it. Not just a wardrobe, but a small armoury like in the Institute dorms. It seems black and weaponry are the dress code here. It should probably make me want to run screaming from this place, but with dad still unconscious, leaving isn’t even an option, not until I know he’s safe.
That thought is the anchor. The reason I keep moving, keep trying, even when everything in me wants to fall apart. I take two blades, one strapped against my thigh and the other slipping neatly into my boot. I ignore the guns; I wouldn’t even know where to start. Nope, no chanting, no glowing hands, no risk of misfiring energy. I want the kind of power I can feel and control, the way I like it.
But something does catch my eye, in the top corner of the closet, a black bandana, tucked between folded gear. I pick it up and twirl it between my fingers, simple, tactical—perfect. I might still be new to this whole spell-casting thing, and obviously, it’s still weird having power run through me like a live wire, but I’ve figured out at least one thing. To cast, you have to speak it out loud, which means every word is a warning shot, so why will you give the enemy a heads-up?
I tie the fabric around my neck.
The scentof breakfast pulls me down the stairs. Warm, sweet, and just tempting enough to make me forget how exhausted I am. I follow it through a narrow, shadowy hallway until I step into a sleek black kitchen, sunlight filtering in through a wall of windows that overlook the yard. The place has been remodelled, with modern fixtures and clean lines, but the bones of the house still whisper its age. You can feel it in the floorboards, the corners, the silence between sounds.
“Looks like someone hit the snooze button a few too many times,” Wyll greets me from the stove, wearing his signature hat and, of all things, an apron. But no shirt, which I am definitely not mad about. He’s back to me, tattooed and broad, as he attends the waffles, stacking them neatly on a plate already full of them. At least he has pants on, small mercies. He turns just enough to flash a grin with full canines on display, and sets down a mountain of bacon, followed by ham like he’s hosting some kind of protein-fueled contest.
That’s when I feel it, the shift. A calm presence behind me, radiating confidence. I don’t need to turn around to know who itis. His scent always hits me first: cedarwood, mint, and just the faintest trace of tobacco. It wraps around me before I even have a chance to brace myself, my pulse spikes.
My body tenses because, of course, he’d show up just when I’m letting my guard down. It’s like he knows, waiting for his prey to be defenceless. Kai brushes past me, all casual control, and heads for the plates without saying a word. Wyll adds a swirl of whipped cream and syrup to the waffles stack as if we’re all just one big, happy, not-at-all-complicated breakfast club, and I just stand there, trying to keep it cool.
