The room was dim, lit only by the flickering flame of a single black candle. Shadows crawled up the stone walls like serpents, and the air was thick with the scent of ash and old paper. Nathan stood still in the center, a rough circle etched on the ground in chalk, symbols drawn with precision from memory. His hand trembled slightly as he raised the obsidian stone to his lips, whispering the incantation from the book Emma had never seen.
Smoke curled from the stone, swirling unnaturally until it formed a figure—a woman, tall and veiled in shadows, with eyes that glowed like dying embers. Amelia. Her voice cracked like dry leaves.
"You're late."
Nathan's mouth twitched, but he didn't argue. "I had to wait till the moon dipped," he replied quietly, as if even the air around her could cut.
Amelia studied him with her cold eyes. "You're getting soft."
He looked down at the stone. "I'm not."
"You feel guilt."
He said nothing. But a single tear slipped from his eye, falling onto the floor inside the chalk circle. Amelia's eyes narrowed.
"She's beginning to trust you," she said, her tone growing sharp. "And I know you. You're hesitating."
Nathan flinched, but he stayed still. "She tells me everything now. She believes I'm her friend."
"And are you?" Amelia hissed, stepping closer, her form flickering. "Have you grown fond of the little lamb you're meant to lead to slaughter?"
Nathan didn't answer. But the silence said enough.
A slow, twisted smile crawled across Amelia's face. "Poor Nathan. You always were the weakest link."
Still, he said nothing. But the guilt on his face burned like a mark.
...
"Em, wake up."
The sunlight barely filtered in through the curtains, but Liam's voice was already tugging me out of my dream. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket higher over my head.
"Nope," I muttered. "Five more minutes."
"You said that twenty minutes ago."
"I meant five more minutes… again."
He laughed, and I felt the bed dip as he sat beside me. "You know, you're lucky I didn't bring the ice bucket this time."
I peeked out from under the blanket. He was grinning down at me, a cup of coffee in his hand and a mischievous glint in his eye.
"You wouldn't dare," I challenged.
"I would," he said smugly. "But then I remembered you threatened to erase all my music playlists if I ever did it again."
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. "Smart choice, Mr. Rockstar."
He handed me the coffee and I took it with a grateful groan. "Bless you."
"I'm practically a saint," he said, puffing up dramatically.
I laughed, my heart warming at the easy banter. Even though yesterday had been heavy, even though his eyes still held something unspoken from the night before, today—just for a moment—it felt normal.
"By the way," he said as he stood, "I made breakfast. Yes, me. No, you're not dreaming."
"You sure I'm not dead?" I joked.
"Not yet. But if you don't come downstairs in ten minutes, I'm feeding your eggs to the neighbor's cat."
"I hate eggs."
"Exactly."
He winked and left the room, and for a second, I just sat there with a smile on my face.
....
I spotted Nathan near the lockers, his hoodie pulled up even though it wasn't cold. His eyes had dark circles underneath them, like sleep had been a stranger last night.
"Hey," I called, approaching him.
He looked up quickly, like I'd startled him. "Oh, hey, Emma."
"You okay? You look like you wrestled with a demon in your dreams."
He chuckled softly. "Yeah… something like that."
"Did you not sleep?"
"Barely. You know me, overthinking things again."
I tilted my head. "You've got that 'I read something forbidden' vibe today."
Nathan smirked. "Just old stories. You know I like that weird stuff."
"Yeah," I said, nudging him gently. "You're the only guy I know who thinks demonology is a fun bedtime read."
He gave a small laugh, but his eyes darted over my shoulder like he was checking to make sure no one heard us.
"You're not backing out, right?" I asked, my tone dipping lower.
"No. No way. I told you—I'll be there for you, even if you want to do it alone."
I sighed. "It's not that I don't trust you. It's just… this ritual, it's risky. If something happens to me, I can't have anyone else getting hurt."
Nathan's jaw clenched slightly, but he nodded. "I get it. But I'll be close. Just in case."
....
I was grabbing a water bottle from my locker when Chloe appeared out of nowhere, like the nosy little pixie she was.
"You've been talking to Nathan a lot lately," she said casually.
I glanced sideways. "So?"
"So," she said, raising an eyebrow, "you two whisper like you're planning a heist. Or summoning Satan."
I laughed nervously. "Please. Nathan just has questions. You know how he is. Curiosity level 9000."
Chloe crossed her arms. "Emma. I know when you're lying. You blink too much."
"I do not blink too much." Blink. Blink. "Okay maybe a little."
She smirked. "Fine. Keep your secrets, Blanders. But if you turn into a vampire or your hair starts floating mid-air, I'm telling your mom."
"Deal," I said, grinning.
"Seriously though," she added, her voice softening, "if something's bothering you, I'm here, okay?"
"I know," I said, giving her a small smile. "And I'll tell you. When I can."
She nodded slowly, but I could still see the worry in her eyes.
Lunch break was our favorite spot—the little corner table under the tree where the sun filtered just enough to make Peter's eyes glow that ridiculous shade of gold.
He was already there, his notes spread out like a mini library.
"Studying or building a shrine?" I asked as I sat next to him.
"Bit of both," he said without looking up. "You're the goddess I worship, after all."
I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my past lives.
"That was cheesy."