Aurora stood in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around her body, watching the condensation drip down the glass like the sweat that clung to her skin. Her reflection stared back at her—but something was off. The eyes. Not hers. Not entirely.
Golden flickers danced in her pupils, shifting like embers beneath the surface. When she blinked, they vanished. Normal brown again. She gripped the sink, knuckles whitening.
Behind her, the air thickened.
"You're not going crazy," a voice murmured.
Aurora spun around.
Nothing.
Just silence. And the sound of her own heartbeat, like war drums.
Later that morning, she met Zayne at the greenhouse on campus—a place no one really went anymore, its glass panes cracked and vines reclaiming the paths.
He was waiting in the shadows between a row of dead roses and overgrown ferns, dressed in black, sunglasses hiding those obsidian eyes.
"You said you needed to see me," she whispered, stepping into his space.
Zayne didn't touch her. Didn't speak for a long moment.
Then he handed her a book—thick, bound in leather, its cover etched with unfamiliar runes.
"What is this?"
"Your mother's. Found it in the archives under her maiden name."
Aurora opened it. The scent of old magic wafted out. The first page had a name scribbled in gold ink:
Celia Edevbie Lane
She blinked. That name. She'd seen it on an old photo once, hidden in her dad's drawer. Her mother, wrapped in Ankara fabric, eyes alight with secrets.
"She knew?" Aurora asked, voice barely audible.
Zayne nodded. "She was one of them. A Seer. Stronger than most. The curse started with her bloodline."
Aurora clutched the book to her chest. Her throat tightened.
"You okay?"
She looked up, her voice dry. "Do I look okay?"
He smiled, finally. Crooked and tired. "You look like fire trying not to burn everything down."
She stepped closer. "And you look like someone trying to put it out with gasoline."
He tilted his head. "Dangerous combo."
"Maybe I like dangerous."
Their lips almost touched when the air shifted. Cold. Wrong.
A scream echoed from somewhere on campus.
Zayne cursed. "Stay here."
But Aurora was already moving.
They reached the arts building in time to see a girl on the ground, convulsing. Her eyes were rolled back, her mouth foaming.
Students circled her, shouting. Phones recorded. Some prayed.
Fiona stood at the edge of the crowd. Her skin was paler than usual. Her smile too wide. Her fingers twitched like she was playing an invisible piano.
Aurora marched up. "What did you do?"
Fiona looked at her, head tilting like a doll. "She just saw something she shouldn't. Not my fault some minds snap easier than others."
Aurora stepped forward, hands blazing.
Fiona didn't flinch. "Want to fight me here? In front of everyone? Go ahead. Show them what a freak you really are."
Aurora hesitated.
Fiona leaned close, whispering, "You're glowing, little witch. And that means you're ripe. The curse is hungry. You can feel it, can't you? Each time he touches you, it feeds."
Aurora shoved her back. Fiona laughed and vanished into the crowd.
That night, Aurora curled in bed with the book from her mother.
She lit a candle. The flame danced higher than it should. She opened the pages.
Spells. Warnings. Dreams.
And a page titled: The Mirror Ritual.
To see what hunts you, you must let it see you first.
She hesitated.
Then gathered what she needed: a silver mirror, a drop of her blood, the candle.
She knelt. Whispered the incantation.
The flame flickered.
Her reflection shifted.
In the mirror, she saw herself standing in the woods. Her eyes glowing gold. Her hands red with blood.
And behind her, a figure.
Fiona. No. Something wearing Fiona's face. Hollow eyes. Mouth dripping shadows.
It whispered, "You were born to bleed."
The mirror cracked.
The candle blew out.
Aurora screamed.
From outside her window, a dark mist coiled against the glass. Watching.
Waiting.
End of chapter 8