"Therefore, we can conclude that Harold and Eli are our grandparents," Henry declared, his voice steady yet laden with a gravity that resonated through the room like the toll of a distant bell.
The room fell into a stunned silence. It was the kind of silence that seemed to expand, pressing against the walls, heavy with the weight of the revelation. I exchanged a glance with Allyson, her brow furrowed in concern, a mirror to the apprehension churning in my chest.
Helix shifted uneasily, breaking the stillness with a cough. "By the way," he ventured, his voice slicing through the tension like a dull knife, "where's Master?"
Allyson straightened in her chair, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her voice was taut with worry. "She's with the Red Foxes," she replied, "but... I haven't heard from her yet."
Henry's words lingered in the air, casting long shadows over the afternoon. Conversation waned, the heavy Victorian walls of the house seeming to absorb our unease. Its khaki-painted exterior stood resolute against the towering green trees, the vivid scarlet roof adding a bold splash to the otherwise subdued landscape.
Inside, Allyson and I shared a room swathed in soft, comforting hues. The walls were a gentle beige, and the bedspread a warm cream, accented with cushions in subtle shades of blush and taupe. A small upholstered armchair nestled by the window, its fabric matching the bed's muted elegance. Normally, this room was my sanctuary. Today, it felt confining, the gentle colors suffocating rather than soothing.
In contrast, Henry and Helix's room was a sanctuary of blues. The walls were painted a calming sky blue, the bedspreads a solemn navy. The curtains, fluttering softly in the evening breeze, added a quiet rhythm to the space. Tonight, however, Henry's usual composure seemed frayed, his expression clouded with unspoken thoughts.
The afternoon passed in a fog of silent tension. Allyson busied herself with tidying up, her movements restless and distracted. Helix paced the hallway, a caged energy simmering beneath his skin. Henry sat in a corner, his gaze fixed on something invisible, lost in thought.
As dusk approached, the weight of Henry's revelation loomed ever larger. By evening, the silence had grown unbearable. We all knew a confrontation was inevitable.
Henry and Helix appeared at our door just as the last rays of sunlight slipped beneath the horizon. Their faces were unusually grim. Henry stepped inside, his hand lingering on the doorknob before he spoke.
"We need to talk."
Allyson and I exchanged a glance. This wasn't a casual visit.
I recalled the conversation from that night. Our parents had gathered us—me, Allyson, Henry, and Helix—and announced their decision with a finality that brooked no argument: we were to stay at Harold's house indefinitely. No explanations, no reassurances. Only a stern warning: we were not to leave the property under any circumstances.
Helix perched on the edge of my bed, his playful demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. "We can't just sit here waiting for answers," he said, his voice a low growl of frustration.
"I almost forgot," I blurted, sitting up straighter. "Yesterday, in my hospital room, I saw a child. She told me she'd guide me to the answers I'm looking for."
Henry's eyes narrowed. "A child? What kind of child?"
"I don't know," I admitted, my hands twisting in my lap. "She just appeared out of nowhere. It was... strange."
"And you're sure it wasn't a hallucination?" Henry pressed, skepticism coloring his tone.
"She was real," I insisted. "I know what I saw."
Helix leaned forward, his brow furrowing in concern. "What did she say, exactly?"
"That she'd guide me to the answers I seek," I replied. "And that I should meet her in the forest. At three p.m."
Allyson's breath hitched. "The forest? Alone? That's not safe!"
"I don't think she meant me any harm," I said softly, though Allyson's concern settled in the back of my mind like a persistent whisper.
"And how are we supposed to get there without anyone noticing?" Helix asked, resuming his pacing.
Henry approached the window, pulling back the lace curtain to peer out at the dark outline of the forest. "The real question is how you'll get there at all. Mom and Dad were pretty clear we're not supposed to leave."
I gnawed at my bottom lip, turning the problem over in my mind. Then, inspiration struck. "The boat," I said suddenly.
Henry turned, one eyebrow arched. "What boat?"
"The one by the lake," I explained. "I can use it to cross over. From there, it's just a short walk to the forest."
A grin spread across Helix's face. "That's not a terrible idea, actually."
"But what about the others?" Allyson asked, worry etched into every syllable. "If anyone sees you…"
"We'll create a distraction," Henry said decisively. "Helix and I can keep everyone busy while Ally sneaks you out."
The plan took shape in hushed whispers, each of us contributing a piece to the puzzle. Helix's knack for mischief would be our ace, while Allyson would guide me through the garden to the dock.
The house was unusually still the next morning, though tension simmered just beneath the surface. When the clock struck 2:50, Helix gave me a sly wink. "Showtime," he whispered before disappearing down the hall, whistling loudly to draw attention.
"Ready?" Allyson asked, her voice low, her hand steady on mine.
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest.
We slipped through the side door, Allyson's firm grip on my wrist grounding me as we hurried toward the garden. The spiral staircase leading to the dock creaked underfoot, each sound amplified by the quiet that enveloped us.
The boat bobbed gently in the water, tethered to the dock with a frayed rope. I climbed in, the wooden planks groaning beneath my weight. Allyson knelt to untie the rope, her fingers trembling slightly.
"Be careful," she whispered, her eyes locking with mine.
"I will," I promised.
With a firm push, I began to row. The oars cut through the water, the ripples spreading out like whispered secrets into the void. Behind me, the house grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely, leaving only the looming silhouette of the forest ahead.
The forest loomed, its towering trees casting long shadows that stretched toward me like eager fingers. I hesitated at its edge, the weight of the silence pressing down on me. Just as I took a cautious step forward, a voice sliced through the stillness like a blade.
"I thought you wouldn't come. I've been waiting for days."
I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat. The child stood there, half-hidden in the shadows, her mischievous grin illuminated by the faint sunlight filtering through the canopy.
"Don't scare me like that!" I snapped, pressing a hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart.
"But it's funny," she replied, giggling—a sound as light and airy as the wind playing among the leaves. Her dark eyes glimmered with amusement.
"Tch," I muttered, crossing my arms. "Remember, I don't trust you," I warned, my gaze locking with hers.
Her smile widened, unbothered by my sharp tone. "Then why are you here?"
I sighed, the fight momentarily leaving me. "I'm curious," I admitted grudgingly. "And you're the only lead we've got. But why the riddles? Why not just tell me what I need to know?"
Her laughter rang out again, brighter this time. "But isn't it more fun this way?" she teased, her voice dripping with mischief.
"It's annoying," I muttered under my breath, but she had already turned, motioning for me to follow her into the forest.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping in behind her. Each step felt heavier than the last, the shadows closing in around us as we ventured deeper. A faint, familiar feeling stirred within me, like a memory hovering just out of reach. There was something about this girl, her presence tugging at the edges of my mind, reminding me of Eli. Who was she?
After what felt like an eternity, she spoke again, her voice carrying an almost melodic quality that sent chills down my spine. "No one knows what the future holds," she said softly, her words weaving into the air like a spell. "Don't let your feelings lead you astray. You have other paths to tread. Now, your life will align."
I opened my mouth to demand an explanation, but before I could speak, she vanished. One moment she was there, and the next, she was gone, swallowed by the shadows as though she had never existed.
Panic surged through me. My breath quickened as I looked around, the endless expanse of trees closing in, the silence oppressive. Was this a trap?
The sudden, sharp click of a gun shattered the stillness.
"Hands up!" a man's voice barked, cold and commanding. "Turn around. Slowly."
Every muscle in my body tensed, but I obeyed, turning slowly to face the source of the voice. A man stepped out from behind a tree, his rugged face partially hidden beneath the brim of a worn hat. The barrel of his gun was steady, trained on me with unnerving precision.
"Anne?" he said suddenly, his tone shifting as recognition flickered in his eyes. He lowered the gun slightly.
My brow furrowed as I stared at him, my mind racing. "You... I've seen you before," I whispered, realization dawning like a distant echo. "You're from my dreams. You are Alistair, right?"
His eyes narrowed, studying me intently. "The little girl brought you here, didn't she?" he asked, his voice wary.
I nodded, unable to form words.
He sighed and motioned for me to follow him. "Come with me. Quickly."
I hesitated, glancing around, but there was no other choice. Reluctantly, I trailed after him. The trees gave way to a clearing, where a small, weathered house stood, nearly swallowed by the forest. The man ushered me inside, drawing the curtains and motioning for me to sit.
The room was sparse but tidy, with a small table, a worn armchair, and a kettle steaming on the stove. He poured a cup of tea and handed it to me. "I know why you're here," he said, settling into the armchair. "Ask your questions, one at a time."
My heart thundered in my chest. "Why did I see you in my dreams?"
His expression darkened, and his grip tightened on the armrest. "Dreams? So she found you earlier than I thought."
"She?" I pressed, leaning forward. "Who are you talking about? The little girl?"
He nodded grimly. "She's... connected to you in ways I don't fully understand."
I swallowed hard. "Then, do you know who I truly am?"
The weight of the question hung between us, heavy and suffocating. He sighed, the lines on his face deepening. "What I can tell you is this: you're an arcanios."
The word felt foreign on my tongue. "Arcanios?" I repeated, confusion knitting my brow.
"In this world, arcanios are those born with special powers," he explained, his eyes sharp, studying my reaction.
A wave of fear and excitement surged through me, clashing within like a storm threatening to consume me. My breath quickened, and my hands clenched involuntarily at my sides as I locked my gaze onto him. I searched his face for any sign of deception, any crack in the facade that might give away a lie. His expression remained composed, but the intensity in his eyes hinted at the weight of something monumental, something I wasn't sure I was ready to face.
The silence between us stretched thin, taut with unspoken truths. Then, as if summoned by the tension, a faint whisper stirred in the back of my mind. It was the same eerie echo I had felt during the invasion of the Red Fox lair—a fleeting voice threading through the chaos, impossible to ignore.
The memory prickled at my senses, sharp and unrelenting, as the whisper grew clearer, more insistent. The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, unbidden and raw.
"Is Dale your son?"
The question hung in the air like a crack of thunder, electrifying the space between us.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. His expression flickered—shock, pain, and something deeper flashed across his face before he quickly schooled it into neutrality. But it was too late; the truth was already written there.
He inhaled sharply, a sound that spoke volumes. "How did you—" He broke off, his words halting mid-sentence as realization dawned in his eyes. "So, you've awakened your power."
The confirmation sent a chill down my spine. I swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
"At first, I didn't understand it," I admitted, my voice trembling as the words tumbled out. They felt fragile, as though speaking them aloud might shatter something inside me. "Everything was chaos—so much noise, so much pain. But once things calmed down... I realized I could read minds."
I glanced up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgment, but his expression remained unreadable.
The memories surged forward, unbidden and vivid. "It started after the Red Fox raid," I said, my voice quieter now. "Seth's... Seth's torture. It broke something inside me. He pushed me so far, I thought I wouldn't survive. And maybe... maybe I didn't. Not completely."
I hesitated, taking a shaky breath. The words were difficult to form, but I needed to say them. "Something else awakened that night. Something I didn't understand. I couldn't even begin to process it—there was too much happening, too much trauma clouding my senses."
The room felt stifling, the memories pressing down on me like a weight I couldn't shake. I gripped the armrest of the chair, my knuckles white. "It wasn't until I was safe in Harold's mansion, when everything finally slowed down, that I started to notice it. The whispers."
His brow furrowed, but he said nothing, letting me continue.
"They weren't voices, exactly," I explained, struggling to put the sensation into words. "More like... echoes. Silent, but there. At first, I thought I was imagining things. I told myself it was the trauma, my mind playing tricks on me. But it wasn't."
I met his gaze, my own filled with a mix of fear and wonder. "I've been trying to come to terms with it, to understand what's happening to me. I thought I was losing my mind, but I wasn't. Those whispers... they're real. They're thoughts. Other people's thoughts."
The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken emotions. Slowly, I unclenched my hands, forcing myself to breathe, to steady the trembling in my chest. "This is my new reality," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm still trying to figure out how to live with it."
He nodded, his expression softening into something that looked like sorrow—and pride. "Yes," he said, his voice low and steady. "Dale is my son. But I haven't seen him since he was five. Our oath to protect you meant he had to watch over you, from a distance."
His words sent a fresh wave of confusion crashing over me. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but the picture they formed only raised more questions.
"Why do I need protection?" I asked, my voice tinged with frustration. "Who are we hiding from?"
His expression shifted suddenly, urgency replacing the calm. "It's time for you to wake up," he said, his voice sharper now, more commanding.
Before I could react, he reached out and shoved me.
The world spun violently, and when I blinked, the room was gone.
I stumbled forward, catching myself on what felt like scorched wood. The air around me was thick with ash and smoke, and the acrid smell of charred timber stung my nostrils. I was standing in the remnants of a burned-out house, the walls blackened and crumbling.
"Anne!"
The voice startled me, and I turned sharply, my heart hammering in my chest.
A man stood there, tall and imposing, with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore a sheriff's uniform, the badge on his chest gleaming faintly in the dim light.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice trembling with equal parts fear and confusion.
His eyes met mine, steady and unwavering, as he took a step closer. "I'm Sheriff Donovan Hale," he said simply, his voice calm but firm.