Nathan didn't summon Amelia that night. He just sat alone on the old stone bench behind his house, staring at the stars like they had answers written on them. His fingers played with the black stone he always kept in his pocket—his so-called "lucky charm." But it wasn't luck he needed. It was a backbone.
The wind rustled around him, but he didn't flinch. He felt cold, but not from the breeze. It was that internal cold—the one that gnawed at his gut and made him question what he was doing. Emma had trusted him. Told him everything. And he was… still on the other side. Half-truths. Hidden guilt. Silent deals with darkness. And now, with the ritual just a day away… he didn't know which side he wanted to be on.
And somewhere, Amelia was watching.
---
THE MORNING — EMMA & LIAM
I was deep in a sleep so comfortable that even the annoying crow outside Liam's window couldn't ruin it. It was the kind of sleep where you drool on the pillow and dream nonsense. Until—
"Emma. Em-ma." Liam's voice was soft at first, but the warning tone of a big brother was creeping in. "C'mon, if you don't wake up in the next five seconds, I swear I'm pouring water on you."
I groaned, barely twitching under the comforter. "Try it, and I swear I'll tell everyone you cried while watching Titanic."
"I didn't cry. I sniffled. And it was one scene!" he grumbled.
Next thing I knew, strong arms scooped me up effortlessly. "Wha—Liam?!"
"Since my threats don't work, I've resorted to kidnapping," he muttered, carrying me like a sack of potatoes. "You're heavier than you look."
"Rude," I yawned, hiding a small smile.
He plopped me on the couch and tucked a blanket over me dramatically. "There. Princess on her throne."
I blinked up at him, half amused, half grumpy. "Why do you like cooking me breakfast when we literally have like twelve people to do it?"
He shrugged, heading toward the kitchen. "Because none of them make your coffee the way you like it. And maybe because it's the only time you're not being annoying."
"I'll pretend that was sweet."
---
AT SCHOOL — NATHAN & SUSPICION
I found Nathan leaning against the lockers near the hallway window, dark circles under his eyes and his usual spark dulled. His gaze lifted when he saw me.
"You okay?" I asked, brushing hair from my face. "You look like you haven't slept."
"I didn't," he said softly. "Stars were nice last night."
"Stars?" I squinted. "Okay, poetic boy. What's wrong?"
He forced a small smile. "Just… tomorrow. It's scary. Your ritual. I keep thinking, what if it goes wrong?"
I looked around cautiously, biting my lower lip. "I know. But it's the only way. It's the only way to kick Amelia out for good. You know it too."
He looked away. "Yeah. I just—wish there was another way."
Peter walked past then, slowing just slightly when he saw us. His eyes flicked between us—Nathan's tired face, my low whisper. His jaw clenched just enough for me to notice.
Great.
He didn't say anything. Just walked away.
Nathan didn't notice. But I felt that suspicion in Peter's gaze. Like he knew I was hiding something. Because… I was.
---
LUNCHTIME — CHLOE & THE AMANDA DRAMA
Chloe dropped her tray next to mine in the cafeteria, already rolling her eyes.
"Guess who decided to grace us with her royal presence this morning?" she asked.
"Ugh. Don't tell me Amanda?"
"Bingo." She twirled her spoon like a wand. "Her majesty is back, with her minions in tow. And a new hair color that looks like expired ketchup."
I choked on my juice. "Stop!"
Chloe smirked. "She walked in like she owns the place. Tossed a fake smile at Peter and called me 'Claire' on purpose."
I raised my brow. "She's brave. You could destroy her emotionally in three sentences."
"Two if I've had coffee," she replied, flipping her hair.
We both laughed, the moment feeling blissfully normal in a week that had been anything but. I let my head fall to her shoulder.
"Hey," she said suddenly. "What's up with you and Nathan?"
I blinked. "What?"
"You've been talking to him a lot. And Peter's been watching you like he's in a Netflix drama titled My Girlfriend Has Secrets."
I pulled away, trying to act casual. "Nathan's just asking about the whole magic thing. He's curious, you know that."
She gave me a look. "Mm-hmm. Curious like a raccoon with a flamethrower."
I laughed nervously. "He's harmless. Just a nerd."
But deep inside… a knot tightened. Because Chloe always knew when I was lying. And today, I wasn't sure if she believed me.
---
AFTERNOON — PETER
After lunch, I found Peter waiting near my locker, leaning against it like some misunderstood YA novel boy. His expression was unreadable—calm on the surface, storm underneath.
"Hey," I said softly.
"Hey," he replied, eyes flicking to me, then away. "You and Nathan seem pretty close lately."
I hesitated. "He's just been helping. With… magic research."
"You've never needed help before."
Ouch.
I looked down. "I'm just being careful this time. That's all."
There was silence. Then he said, "If there's something going on—anything—I want to help. But I can't if you keep shutting me out."
My chest tightened. "Peter, I'm not shutting you out. I just… can't tell you everything yet."
He didn't answer. Just reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Okay. But if you ever feel like you're in trouble—you come to me. Got it?"
I nodded. "Got it."
"Good." He leaned closer, whispering, "Because I'm already planning our second kiss and I need you alive for that."
I turned tomato-red. "Peter!"
He winked and walked off.
Jerk. Cute jerk.
---
NIGHT — EMMA, ALONE IN BED
The room was dark, except for the soft, golden spill of my bedside lamp. Everything else was silent. Too silent.
I lay curled up in my bed, the blanket pulled up to my chest like it could somehow protect me from the storm inside my head. My eyes were wide open, glued to the ceiling as my mind ran miles ahead of me. Tomorrow. It was tomorrow. The ritual.
I exhaled slowly, but the breath came out shaky. My heart was racing even though I hadn't moved an inch. I tried to close my eyes, hoping sleep would pull me under and give me some kind of break—but every time I did, flashes hit me like lightning bolts.
That tree.
Those voices.
The screams.
The blood.
The face of the girl who looked exactly like me, burning behind my eyelids.
I turned to the side, clutching the pillow tightly. It still smelled like my shampoo—lavender and vanilla—but even that familiar scent couldn't calm the panic building in my chest.
What if something goes wrong tomorrow?
What if I mess it up?
What if I lose control again?
What if I hurt someone?
A fresh wave of guilt washed over me, sudden and sharp. Amanda. Even if she's a nightmare dressed in Prada, what I did to her wasn't normal. That pain. That moment. It wasn't just teenage rage—it was something… deeper. Darker.
I felt my eyes sting.
I don't want to be a monster.
I tried to shake the thought off. Focus on something else. On someone else.
Peter. His voice, his stupid little smirks, the way he looked at me today like he knew something was off but didn't push me. That small moment by my locker where he just… existed beside me without asking for anything. His hand brushing mine. The quiet promise in his eyes: "You're not alone."
But even thinking about him made it worse. Because what if he saw what I really am? What if tomorrow rips off every mask I've been wearing and shows everyone the truth?
Would he still look at me the same way?
Would Chloe still joke with me like always?
Would Liam still lift me up like I was just his annoying little sister and not some ticking time bomb?
Tears slipped down my cheek without warning, warm and silent. I didn't sob—I couldn't. It was the kind of sadness too heavy for sound. It just… sat on me. Like a weight on my chest.
I turned to the other side, facing the window now. The moon was out, half-full, hidden behind pale clouds. I watched it like it was watching me back.
"I'm not ready," I whispered into the dark. "I don't think I'll ever be ready."
I wrapped my arms around myself tightly. The blanket was no longer enough. I wanted someone to crawl into this bed and tell me it'll be okay. I wanted my mom to hum lullabies again, even though I used to pretend to hate them. I wanted Peter's hand. Chloe's voice. Liam's annoying comfort.
But all I had was this room. This silence. And this fear.
My fingers reached toward the necklace around my neck—an old thing, but the only thing that had stayed constant through all this madness. I clutched it hard and squeezed my eyes shut.
Please. Just let me make it through tomorrow. Let me stay me.
And finally… somehow… sleep took me.
But the fear stayed curled up in the dark like a second heartbeat.
---