Clara couldn't sleep after the man's visit. The black feather sat on her nightstand, a silent reminder that her life was no longer her own. She had questions—too many questions—and nowhere to start looking for answers.
The next morning, she sat at the breakfast table, picking at her toast. Alan and Daniel chatted about Daniel's upcoming soccer match, but Clara barely registered their words.
"Clara?" Alan's voice broke through her thoughts. "Are you feeling okay? You've been quiet lately."
Clara looked up and forced a small smile. "I'm fine, Dad. Just a lot on my mind."
His brow furrowed, but he didn't press further.
Evelyn, however, wasn't as considerate. "If you spent less time daydreaming and more time being useful, maybe you wouldn't look so lost all the time."
Clara flinched at the harsh words, but Alan intervened. "That's enough, Evelyn. She's allowed to have her moments."
Evelyn scoffed but didn't say anything more. Daniel gave Clara a sympathetic look as he stood to leave for practice.
Clara excused herself shortly after and retreated to her room.
---
Sitting on her bed, Clara stared at the feather, twirling it between her fingers. Its edges shimmered faintly in the sunlight, like it wasn't entirely of this world.
"The truth of who you are," the man had said.
Clara didn't even know where to begin. The only thing she could think of was the box of old photographs Daniel had found. Maybe there was something they'd missed.
She crept into the garage and found the box on the workbench. Her hands trembled as she sifted through the photos and papers again. Most of it seemed ordinary—pictures of birthdays, vacations, and random family moments.
But then she found a piece of paper folded neatly at the bottom. It wasn't a photo—it was a certificate.
Clara's eyes widened as she read the heading: Adoption Certificate.
Her breath hitched. Her name was on it, but the names under "Parents" weren't Alan and Evelyn.
She dropped the paper, her mind reeling.
Adopted? How could that be? Alan had always been so kind, so warm. But Evelyn's distant, cold behavior suddenly made sense.
A lump formed in her throat. Did Daniel know? Did Emily?
She stumbled back, nearly knocking over a stack of boxes. Her foot brushed against something, and she looked down to see a smaller box tucked away under the workbench.
Curious, she pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a worn journal with faded leather binding. She opened it carefully, the pages brittle with age.
The handwriting was elegant and flowing, and the first entry caught her attention immediately:
"To my dearest Clara, if you're reading this, it means the truth has found you."
Her heart raced as she turned the page, her eyes devouring the words.
---
The entries were cryptic, filled with references to "the forest," "a curse," and "power hidden within." The writer—her biological mother, apparently—had left the journal as a guide.
"Our family carries a gift and a burden," one entry read. "You will feel it awaken as you grow. Use it wisely, for it can either protect or destroy."
Clara's hands shook as she read the next line: "They will come for you when the time is right. Be ready."
Who were "they"? The man outside her window? The creature from the forest?
Before she could read further, a voice startled her.
"Clara? What are you doing in here?"
She spun around to see Alan standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
"I—uh—I was just looking through the old photos," she stammered, quickly closing the journal.
Alan stepped closer, his gaze falling on the open adoption certificate. His face paled.
"Clara…" he began, his voice soft. "Where did you find that?"
"In the box," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Alan sighed and sat down on an old stool. "It wasn't my secret to tell, sweetheart. Your mother and I wanted to wait until you were older, but…"
"But what?" Clara pressed, tears welling in her eyes.
Alan hesitated. "Your birth parents… they were involved in something dangerous. We took you in to protect you."
"Protect me from what?" Clara demanded.
Alan shook his head. "I don't know all the details. Your mother never wanted to talk about it, but she was terrified. She said you'd understand when the time was right."
Clara clenched her fists, frustration boiling over. "So I'm just supposed to figure it out on my own?"
Alan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know it's a lot, but you're stronger than you think. Whatever this is, you can handle it."
Clara nodded, though her mind was spinning. The journal might be her only chance to uncover the truth.
---
That night, Clara sat by her window, staring at the black feather. The journal lay open on her lap, its words echoing in her mind.
She felt different—stronger, more aware. The power inside her was no longer dormant, and she could feel it stirring, ready to be unleashed.
But with that power came responsibility, and Clara wasn't sure she was ready for it.
The man's words haunted her: "You will have to choose."
What choice would she have to make? And would it cost her everything she loved?
As the moonlight streamed through her window, Clara made a silent vow.
She would find the truth, no matter what it took.