The moment I step out of bed the next morning, the air feels different—charged, heavy, alive with something unseen. I pause, listening for a sound, a sign, anything to explain the unease crawling through my chest. Nothing. The house is still. But the feeling lingers, curling tighter with every breath.
I shake it off and head to the bathroom. As I brush my hair, my gaze drifts to the mirror. I stare at my reflection, searching for something—some hint of the fae in me. My face looks the same, but my eyes linger on their dark brown depths, waiting for something to change. For a flicker of light. For proof that I'm not just imagining all of this.
The necklace from Lilly sits on my dresser, gleaming in the soft light. Its crescent shape is elegant, deceptively simple. I reach for it, hesitating just before my fingers touch the silver. The memory of the energy it unleashed courses through me, vivid and electric. Not yet. I'm not ready for what it might awaken again.
Downstairs, Mom greets me with a worried glance, her movements stiff as she pours coffee into a mug. "Morning, monkey. How are you feeling?"
"Tired," I answer, forcing a small smile. The tension in her eyes tells me she doesn't believe me, but she lets it go. She places a slice of toast on a plate and slides it across the counter. I take it without a word, grateful for her silence.
The walk to school feels longer today. The neighborhood is eerily quiet, the wind cold against my face. Every crunch of gravel beneath my shoes feels too loud. I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting Lilly to appear, her unnerving smirk pulling at the edges of my mind. But there's nothing. Just me and this growing sense of dread.
At school, the usual buzz of student chatter feels muted, distant, like it's happening behind glass. Every sound presses against me, sharp and unrelenting. My senses are on edge, every detail magnified until it's almost unbearable. The scrape of chairs against linoleum, the hum of fluorescent lights, the rustle of papers—it all feels too loud, too close.
By the time I reach my seat in class, I can barely think. The teacher's voice fades into the background, replaced by the memory of Mom's words.
You're fae.
Two words, simple but heavy, unraveling the life I thought I knew. The signs had always been there, hidden in plain sight—the heightened senses, the flashes of light, the whispers in the dark. I should have known.
Out the window, a shimmer of light catches my attention. My breath catches, and I lean closer, squinting. It's faint, barely there—a flicker, like sunlight on glass. But when I blink, it's gone, leaving me staring at the empty schoolyard.
By lunchtime, I can't take it anymore. The cafeteria feels suffocating, the noise closing in around me. The hum of conversation is a constant buzz, every word sharp and clear, no matter how far away.
"…she looks pale…"
"…probably didn't sleep…"
"…what's wrong with her today…"
The whispers slice through my mind, their words blurring together. I grip the edge of the table, trying to steady myself. Then I smell it—Lilly's perfume. Floral and musky, faint but unmistakable.
My pulse spikes. She's not here. She can't be here. But the scent wraps around me, filling my senses until it's all I can think about. Panic flares, and I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.
I don't stop moving. I push through the cafeteria doors, ignoring the stares. The hallways stretch endlessly ahead of me, the walls too close, the air too thin. My vision blurs at the edges, the fluorescent lights overhead warping as my chest tightens. I shove through the school doors and stumble outside, gasping for air.
The cold wind stings my face, but it's grounding. I press my hands to my knees, breathing hard. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, fumbling with the screen. Justin's name flashes across it, his call unanswered.
I can't talk to him. Not now. Not when everything is unraveling.
Another buzz, this time a text from Mom.
The principal called me worried about you. Come home. We will talk.
My hands shake as I read it, but I don't hesitate. Whatever is happening to me, I need answers.
********
By the time I get home, Mom is already waiting on the porch. Her arms are crossed, her face a mix of worry and resolve. The sight of her grounds me, but the weight of the unknown still presses heavily on my chest.
She doesn't say a word as I approach. Instead, she opens the door and motions for me to follow.
We sit at the kitchen table, the same place we had our conversation last night. The same tension hangs in the air, thick and suffocating.
"I'm losing control," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Mom, I can't stop it. It's everywhere—the sounds, the smells, the…" I trail off, my hands trembling as I grip the edge of the table.
She nods slowly, her expression softening. "I know, monkey. It's the awakening. Your senses are heightened because your connection to the fae world is getting stronger. It's overwhelming now, but it will pass. You'll learn to control it."
"How?" I snap, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know what's real anymore."
Her gaze hardens, her voice steady. "You are real, Sarah. Your power is real. And you're stronger than you think. But you have to trust yourself."
I open my mouth to argue, but before I can speak, the air shifts. A familiar vibration hums in my chest, faint but insistent. My eyes dart to the window, and there it is—the shimmer, brighter now, pulsing faintly against the trees.
"Mom," I whisper, my heart racing. "Do you see that?"
Her eyes follow mine, narrowing. "Yes." Her voice is sharp, laced with something I can't place. Fear? Concern?
"What is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
Her hand grips mine tightly, her warmth grounding me. "It's your connection to the fae realm. It's reaching out to you."
I don't move, frozen by the sight of the light shifting, beckoning me forward. The hum grows louder, vibrating through the air until it feels like a song just out of reach.
Mom's voice pulls me back. "You're not ready yet, Sarah. But soon, you will be."
I nod, my throat tight. The pull of the fae realm is undeniable, but for now, I'm anchored here, with her.
And for the first time in days, I feel a sliver of hope.
But then, just as that thought takes root, the air around us shifts again—heavier, darker. A sense of dread slithers through the room, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I look at Mom, and I can tell she feels it too.
"Something's coming," she murmurs, her voice tense.
I glance at the window, half-expecting to see the shimmer again, but this time, there's nothing. Just the stillness of the room and the weight of the unknown pressing down on us.
"What do we do?" I ask, my pulse quickening.
Mom's eyes harden with resolve. "We prepare. Your powers are awakening for a reason, Sarah. And whatever is coming… we need to be ready."
As the weight of Mom's words settles over me, exhaustion hits me like a tidal wave. My body feels heavy, my mind overloaded with everything I've learned.
"I think I just need to sleep," I murmur, rubbing my temples.
Mom nods, her expression softening. "Rest, monkey. We'll talk more tomorrow."
I nod, grateful for the brief escape, and head upstairs. The moment I close my bedroom door, the tension in my chest loosens just a little. I glance at the pendant resting on my dresser, and for a second, I swear it hums—like a faint vibration in the air, pulsing with energy I can't quite grasp.
But I'm too tired to question it. Too tired to let my mind spiral further into what-ifs and unknowns.
I slip into bed, pulling the covers around me, hoping for just a few hours of peace. But the moment my eyes close, I'm pulled into a dream—one that feels too vivid, too real to be just a product of my imagination.
*******
I'm standing in the middle of a forest. The trees around me are taller than anything I've ever seen, their branches twisting high above, casting strange shadows on the forest floor. The air is thick with mist, and a soft glow emanates from the ground, as if the earth itself is alive with magic.
I hear whispers—soft, melodic voices that seem to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. They speak in a language I don't understand, but I feel the meaning of their words deep in my bones. They're calling to me, urging me forward.
I take a step, and the ground beneath me pulses with light. It's like walking on a living, breathing thing—something ancient, something powerful. The further I go, the louder the whispers become, until they're a chorus in my mind, pulling me deeper into the heart of the forest.
And then I see it.
A figure stands at the edge of a clearing, their back to me, bathed in the soft glow of the fae magic that pulses through the ground. They turn slowly, and though their face is obscured by shadows, I know they're watching me. Waiting for me.
The pendant around my neck—the same one from my dreams and the one Lilly gave me—glows softly against my chest, vibrating in sync with the heartbeat of the forest. I reach up to touch it, and the moment my fingers graze the surface, a surge of energy rushes through me, filling every part of my being.
The whispers grow louder, filling my ears, and I close my eyes as the energy overwhelms me. It feels as if the very air is alive, wrapping around me, pulling me deeper into the magic of the forest.
The figure steps forward, their presence commanding, yet gentle. The shadows around them begin to clear, revealing features I almost recognize—sharp, ethereal, yet not entirely human. They reach out a hand toward me, and I can't move. I'm rooted in place, my heart racing as the connection between us deepens.
"Come," the figure says, their voice like music, soft and familiar. "Come home."
The words echo in my mind, resonating with the very core of my being. Home. But where is home? Is it here, in this strange, magical world? Or is it somewhere I've forgotten, a place that exists only in memories I've lost?
I try to take a step forward, but my feet feel heavy, as if the ground itself is resisting me. The figure smiles—gentle, knowing—and their hand twitches, urging me to come closer.
"Sarah," they say, their voice now a whisper in the wind. "You are not alone."
And then, just as suddenly as it began, the dream fractures. The figure, the forest, the whispers—they all dissolve into nothingness.
******
My eyes snap open, and I'm back in my room, my heart hammering in my chest.
The air feels cold, and I gasp for breath, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat. The pendant is still around my neck, cool against my skin, but I can still feel the echo of its energy—still vibrating with that same pull.
A soft creak outside my door jolts me from my thoughts. My pulse spikes, and every nerve in my body goes taut. I take a cautious step toward it, the floorboards groaning under my weight. But the sound is swallowed by the rush of blood in my ears, thickening the silence.
"Mom?" I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath.
No answer.
My hand reaches for the doorknob. I hesitate, the air heavy with the same oppressive energy I felt earlier, like something is waiting just beyond the threshold. Slowly, I twist the knob, the cool metal biting into my palm as I pull the door open.
The hallway is empty, but it doesn't feel empty. The shadows seem darker, deeper, pulling at the edges of my vision. I can't shake the sensation that something is lurking just out of sight, watching me.
"Mom?" I call again, louder this time, the echo in the silence unsettling.
Still, there's nothing.
Then I hear it. A low hum, almost imperceptible at first, but growing steadily louder with every step I take. My heart pounds, every instinct screaming at me to run, but I can't move. I grip the banister at the top of the stairs, my feet cold against the wooden floor.
The house feels different now. The silence presses against my ears, each sound magnified. I lean over the railing, peering into the darkness below.
And there it is.
A faint shimmer, like the one I saw earlier, but this time stronger, more defined. It pulses softly, almost as if it's alive, glowing gently near the front door. My breath catches in my throat, and I take a step back, instinctively clutching the pendant around my neck. It reacts, pulsing in sync with the shimmer.
The light moves—slowly, deliberately—toward the stairs. My legs stiffen, panic rising. I should run, lock myself in my room, but I can't tear my eyes away. I'm rooted in place, mesmerized by the strange light as it inches closer.
"Sarah."
The voice is soft, melodic, a whisper that cuts through the silence like a blade. I freeze, my lips parting, but no sound comes out. The name feels too familiar, too intimate, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Come home."
The voice grows insistent, and the shimmer flickers, shifting, taking on a faint humanoid shape. I can barely breathe as the figure steps closer, its outline growing sharper, more defined with every movement. It's tall, ethereal, shifting like water in the moonlight.
"Who are you?" I whisper, my voice trembling, barely a sound.
The figure doesn't answer. Instead, it raises one long, delicate hand and points toward the pendant around my neck.
The air grows colder. The hum increases to a deafening roar, filling my entire being, drowning out every other sound. The pendant grows unbearably warm, the heat flooding through my chest as the pull intensifies.
"Sarah!"
Mom's voice cuts through the chaos like a lifeline. The shimmer vanishes in an instant, and the noise stops as abruptly as it began, leaving only the hollow silence behind. I turn, my heart racing, to see her standing at the top of the stairs, eyes wide with fear.
"What are you doing?" she demands, rushing toward me.
"I… I saw something," I stammer, clutching the pendant tightly in my hand. "It was here. It was calling to me."
Mom grabs my shoulders, her grip firm but gentle. "Sarah, listen to me. Whatever you saw, whatever you heard, it was trying to pull you into the fae realm. You can't let it. Not yet."
Tears well in my eyes as I shake my head. "But it felt… familiar. Like it knew me."
"That's how they work," she says urgently, her voice shaking with the weight of her fear. "They use your emotions—your fear, your confusion—to lure you in. But you're not ready, Sarah. If you go now, you may not be able to come back."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel the weight of the pendant pressing against my chest. The hum has faded, but the pull remains, quiet but persistent, an ache I can't ignore.
Mom pulls me into her arms, holding me tightly. Her voice softens, filled with warmth. "I know this is hard, but you have to trust me. I'll help you through this. You're not alone."
I nod against her, my breathing slowly calming. But even as I cling to her, I know the truth deep down.
I'm not ready now.
But soon, I will be.
And when that time comes, I'll have to face whatever's waiting for me in the fae realm—whether I'm ready or not.