Chapter 1
The morning sun spilled golden light over Eldergrove, but Leah barely noticed the tremor in her hand or the strange heaviness in the air as she habitually wiped down the counter of the Bluebird Café. But the familiar hum of regulars and their endless stream of orders no longer grounded her. Something was off. Even as she tried to pretend the restless ache in her chest was just exhaustion.
Outside, children darted beneath the skeletal oaks, laughing and chasing one another before school. Leah’s eyes followed them, distant. Memories of younger days drifted in unbidden— hours spent exploring forgotten corners of town, her grand-mother’s stories letting her imagination run wild like the wind. Those carefree afternoons felt impossibly far away now, buried beneath the quiet ache of the ordinary life she led.
Back then, the world had seemed larger, softer, and filled with possibility. She had always dreamed of adventure and wondered who she would become. But growing up with only her grandmother had made her childhood unlike that of the other kids at school. Whispers and rumors followed her everywhere. Most of the children were cruel and quick to judge her and her grandmother, whom they found odd and eccentric.
It was true that Selene Gardner was certainly odd. She grew herbs in chaotic garden beds and sang strange songs to the stars. But to Leah, Selene was simply home and the only family she had ever known.
Selene taught her to recognize the healing in nature, to notice how a plant leaned toward the sun or how the air shifted before a storm. But with all her curious teachings, she also had a way of keeping the world small. For as long as Leah could remember, Selene had gently discouraged her from wandering too far beyond town, as if safety could only be found within its borders.
Still, there had always been something mysterious threaded through Selene’s bedtime stories and daily conversations. She spoke in riddles that didn’t always make sense to Leah growing up and told tales too vivid to be pure imagination.
Leah sensed early on that there were things left unsaid, but she learned not to press. She had known since she was old enough to understand that her parents had died shortly after she was born. Selene never shared much more than that, and Leah never asked. Part of her had always wondered what truly happened, but she kept that curiosity tucked away. Whatever the truth was, it seemed easier to leave it in the past.
Selene had given her a life full of care and meaning, and for a long time, that had been enough. But those memories felt like they belonged to another lifetime now. The scent of coffee grounds had replaced herbal teas, and the hum of locals filled the space where Selene’s stories used to live.
Just before the lull between the morning rush and the afternoon pastries, Leah was wiping down the front counter when she overheard two young women seated near the window. Their voices were lowered, but not enough.
“That’s the one up on the hill, right?” one asked, stirring her coffee. “The one practically pressed into the forest? We passed it as soon as we drove into town.”
“Oh yeah,” the other said, brightening. “People at the inn were talking about it. Apparently, some witch lives there. Super reclusive and strange. They said she doesn’t have any friends and lives cooped up in that place.”
Leah’s hand stilled mid-wipe. Her jaw tightened until she felt pressure bloom in her temples.
She was still new to adulthood, only recently out of high school, and these women, who looked to be in their mid-twenties, reminded her far too much of the girls who had made her last years at school unbearable. They had the same glossy, effortless confidence. Somehow, these strangers carried the same amused cruelty and easy superiority as the girls in her school.
“They said she’s weird,” the first woman added, smirking. “One of the shopkeepers said she talks to the stars. Honestly? I believe it. That place looks creepy.”
“Totally creepy,” her friend laughed. “Kind of want to go up there later to see if the rumors are true.”
“Well, careful,” the first teased, nudging her. “You might get hexed. Or sacrificed.”
Their laughter clawed at Leah. Her fingers curled tighter around the rag, white-knuckled. They didn’t know Selene. They didn’t know anything. And yet, they spoke with the same smug certainty of people who treated someone else’s life like entertainment.
She had hoped graduation would let her escape the rumors and start fresh. Guess that had been a dream. As long as she stayed here, they would follow her.
Just as she braced herself to snap, a gentle voice pulled her back from the edge.
“Hey, you okay?”
Thomas, the café’s newest hire, appeared beside her with a quiet stack of clean mugs. He’d moved to town recently, just in time to fill the hole Edgar had left when he quit. Edgar had been irritable and snarky, making Leah’s mornings unnecessarily tense. Thomas, by contrast, was a breath of fresh air.
She blinked up at him. His dark curls were half-tamed beneath a backward cap, his green eyes already scanning her expression.
“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Just tired.”
He followed her gaze to the women by the window and raised a brow as he lifted a mug. “People say stupid things when they don’t know better. That doesn’t make them true.”
Leah exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. There was something about the way he said it that made her feel as if he already knew exactly what those words meant to her.
“She isn’t crazy,” she said softly, not looking at him. “She just… sees the world differently.”
Thomas nodded, setting the mugs down gently. “Sounds like someone I’d love to meet.”
Leah gave a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You would like her.”
“Well,” he said, offering a crooked grin, “if I can’t meet her, I guess I’ll settle for liking her granddaughter instead.”
Warmth crept into Leah’s cheeks, sudden and unexpected. She wasn’t sure why, but the easy confidence in his voice caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to reply, only for the bell above the café door to chime.
“Morning, Sunshine!!”
Sage breezed in, her usual bright smile lighting up the room. Within seconds, Leah was enveloped in what could only be described as a full-force bear hug. A customer nearby flinched, nearly spilling his latte.
“Sage…” Leah wheezed, trying to pry her arms free. “I can’t breathe.”
Sage loosened her grip just enough for Leah to inhale, then pulled back. Her eyes darted between Leah and Thomas in a quick, instinctive scan. It lasted no more than a second, but something in her posture shifted as a mischievous grin spread across her face.
“Well, Leah,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows, “and who do we have here?”
Still rubbing her shoulder, Leah froze, then groaned. Oh no.
“Sage,” she said firmly, pointing at her, “this is Thomas. He started two days ago. Be nice.”
Sage narrowed her eyes, pretending to scrutinize him like a bouncer at a club. “Hmm. Suspiciously cute for a new hire. And conveniently standing next to you during peak drama hour…”
Thomas raised both hands. “Innocent bystander, I swear.”
Leah rolled her eyes, warmth creeping into her cheeks again. She wasn’t used to being caught off guard like this, and it made her feel oddly self-conscious. “Sage, stop.”
“Fine,” Sage laughed. “I’ll behave. For now.”
She turned back to Leah, pulling her into a gentler, one-armed hug. “I missed you. You still hoarding lemon bars in the back, or did you finally learn to share?”
Thomas chuckled and slipped away toward the back count-er, giving Leah a subtle nod of support before disappearing.
Leah laughed softly. “Maybe a little hoarding. You know me too well.”
“Some things never change,” Sage said.
Leah smiled. “Apparently not.”
She took in Sage’s familiar wild curls and unmistakable hazel eyes. Sage hadn’t changed at all since she moved away. There was still that magnetic energy that drew people in like firelight on a cold night.
Unlike Leah, Sage had always been certain of her future. Animals were her whole heart, and she’d known since childhood that she would become a vet. True to form, she’d landed one of five coveted spots in the Bravo Veterinary Apprenticeship Program which was a grueling full-time rotation that took her to a town called Oakgrove. She’d spent the last few weeks working long days at a clinic and volunteering at a local shelter in the evenings. But that was Sage: relentless, vibrant, and utterly incapable of doing anything halfway.
Leah smiled, grateful for the steady friendship. Sage was her anchor and reminder that not all of life’s mysteries had to be so heavy. Her warm smile and confidence were a comforting contrast to the quiet hum of the café. Sage had been part of Leah’s world since they were seven years old— two scrawny girls meeting beneath the twisted branches of the old elm tree by the schoolyard.
Other friendships had come and gone, light as leaves on the wind, but Sage had been the one who stayed. She had listened when Leah had no words, understood the restless spirit behind Leah’s quiet nature, and grounded her when the world felt too big—or too small. Their conversations drifted seamlessly from silly jokes to the kind of deep talks that left Leah feeling a little lighter and a little less alone, reminding her she didn’t have to carry everything by herself.
“So,” Sage said, leaning on the counter with a playful grin, “how’s life treating you? Same old, same old?”
Leah smiled, the corners of her mouth tugging up more easily than they had in days. “Busy as ever. The café keeps me on my toes.”
Sage nodded. “And your new coworker? Thomas, right?”
Leah laughed softly. “He’s easy to be around. Feels like he’s been here longer than a few days.”
“Ohhh,” Sage said. “Comfortable already.”
“Don’t start,” Leah said. “He just fits.”
Sage smirked. “I’ll keep my eye on him.”
Leah laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Obviously,” Sage said with a mock bow. “That’s why you keep me around.”
A comfortable silence settled between them as the mid-morning rush ebbed, leaving only the soft clinks of cups and the low murmured conversations.
Leah glanced around, then back at Sage. “So, how’s the apprenticeship going? You still survive those marathon shifts?”
Sage threw her head back dramatically. “Barely. Last week I was on my feet for twelve hours straight, and then I volunteered at the shelter after. I swear, I’m one coffee away from becoming a permanent resident there.”
Leah smiled, admiring her friend’s relentless energy. “You’re like a machine. I don’t know how you do it.”
Sage shrugged with a wink. “It’s all about caffeine…and probably some stubbornness.”
Leah pressed her fingers to her temple, wincing. “Speaking of caffeine…I think I’ve had a little too much today. Headache’s been nagging at me all morning.”
Sage’s eyes softened immediately. “Hm. Maybe you should take it easy. You know, actually rest instead of working until you drop.”
Leah shook her head, forcing a small smile. “I’ll be fine. Just one of those days.”
Sage didn’t look convinced but didn’t press, which Leah was thankful for. Instead, she grabbed Leah’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself?”
Leah nodded, her chest feeling lighter. “Promise.”
Sage grinned. “Good. Because I’m holding you to that. Besides, I came down here to celebrate you. I cannot have you stuck in bed all weekend with a headache! It’s bad enough already you didn’t take tomorrow off.”
Leah’s smile faltered for just a moment. Her birthday. She’d almost managed to forget it was tomorrow. Another year older, another reminder that nothing in her life felt like it was moving forward. It would just be another day of pretending everything was fine. But she didn’t want Sage to see any of that written on her face.
“Yeah,” Leah said lightly, forcing a grin. “I know.”
They shared a quiet laugh before the bell above the door chimed again, signaling another wave of customers. Leah exhaled slowly, feeling a little more grounded. She was thankful Sage had decided to visit this weekend, but she couldn’t help the weird sense of dread that lingered.
Once the early afternoon rush was over, Leah made her way to the corner booth where Sage was curled up, deeply absorbed in what looked to be an essay on her laptop about…cats? The glow of the screen lit her face as she leaned forward, completely immersed. Only a few hours into her short trip, and she was already working. Sage really was too loyal.
Leah smiled softly and sat down next to Sage. “Hey, thought you might want a refill,” she said, setting down a fresh cup of coffee beside Sage’s laptop.
Sage looked up, a grateful grin spreading across her face. “You’re a lifesaver. This day needs all the caffeine it can get.” She nudged her laptop a few inches to the side, the screen tilting just enough that the reflection of the window replaced whatever she’d been working on.
Leah let out a short laugh. “I’m heading home a little earlier today. Hopefully rest helps this headache,” she said, pressing her fingers lightly to her temple.
Sage’s brows furrowed as she studied Leah’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” Leah said quickly, brushing her temple again. “It’s just a headache. Not actively dying yet.”
“You’re never one to complain. Hang on.” Sage dug into her oversized canvas bag and pulled out a thin, woven bracelet. It was soft blue, with silver threads knotted into a pattern that shimmered around a cool metal center. “Here,” she said, reaching across the table and gently looping it around Leah’s wrist. “I found this at a market last week. The woman who made it said it’s supposed to help with stress and emotional regulation. Figured you could use a little of both.”
Leah chuckled, touched. “You know you didn’t have to bring me anything.”
“I know,” Sage said, tying it off with a practiced tug. “But I wanted to. Besides, it’s supposed to be waterproof, flameproof, life-proof, the whole shebang. And maybe it’ll remind you to take care of yourself when I’m not around to nag you.”
Leah looked down at the bracelet. It was simple, a little imperfect, and somehow completely comforting.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
“Of course,” Sage replied with a shrug, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. But her eyes lingered on Leah a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll pass by Selene’s tomorrow when I’m free.” She winked before signaling to Thomas. “I think he’ll need some company to end his shift today.”
Before she grabbed her coat, Leah glanced toward Thomas at the counter. He was wiping down tables, looking calm and focused. She gave him a small nod and a quick smile, silently checking if he needed anything before she left early. Then she turned back to Sage, who was already teasing Thomas with a playful grin. Leah raised an eyebrow and shook her head slightly, mouthing, Behave. Sage just winked in response.
Shortly after, Leah made her way up the winding path to her house. The garden rose up around her, wild and tangled, spilling past the stone borders in deliberate abandon. Flowers bloomed where they pleased, softening the chaos with color and various floral scents. She pushed open the creaking gate and followed the trail to the front door. The women’s voices from the café echoed in her mind, along with the comments they’d made about the house. A knot tightened in her stomach. Of course they’d talked about the house. Anyone driving in from that side of town would pass the edge of the property. She glanced toward the trees lining the road, suddenly aware of how secluded it must look to strangers. The thought stung more than she wanted to admit.
She exhaled, rubbing her thumb along the cold doorknob before pushing it open. Inside, warmth wrapped around her, settling into the ache at her temples.
Selene sat in her favorite armchair by the fire with a light blue cloth spread across her lap. She was stitching that same symbol, two gold concentric circles joined by a line across their center that Leah had grown up seeing all her life. Her grandmother never explained it, and Leah had long since learned that pressing her when she slipped into one of her quiet, private rhythms was pointless. It wasn’t fear that kept her from asking, just respect for the small, repeated quirks that made Selene…Selene.
Leah sank onto the couch beside her, letting the quiet of the room seep into her bones. The familiar smell of herbs pressed against the ache in her temples, easing it little by little.
“I am exhausted…” Leah said softly, her voice barely above the crackle of the fire.
Selene looked up, her faded gray eyes gentle beneath softly lined lids. Her silver-white hair fell around her shoulders. Even seated, her tall, lean frame carried a quiet, steady presence. “You’ve been working too hard again.” She reached over and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Leah’s ear.
Leah gave a small smile. “I’ve had to cover a lot of shifts after Edgar quit, but I’m training someone who seems promising and hopefully won’t quit after two weeks.” She chuckled dryly.
“The world outside these walls can take more than it gives,” Selene said gently. “That is why we must learn to rest when we can.”
Leah hesitated. The words had been pressing against her all day, caught beneath her headache and that strange sense of dread. “Gran…do you ever feel like there’s more out there?”
For a moment, Selene’s smile faltered. A shadow passed through her expression, gone almost as quickly as it came. “I have lived long enough to know there is always more, Leah. But not everything is meant to be sought before its time.”
The fire popped, sending a tiny spark into the air. Silence pressed in again, broken only when Selene’s gaze drifted to Leah’s wrist. She reached out, brushing her thumb near the edge of the bracelet.
“That’s new,” she said, her voice calm but thoughtful. “From Sage?”
Leah glanced down at it. “Yeah. She said it should help ground me or something. She passed by the café. She came to visit for the weekend.”
A faint smile touched Selene’s lips. “She’s always known how to choose her timing.” She paused, her thumb still hovering over the bracelet. “I’m glad you have her.”
Leah looked over, surprised by the weight in her grandmother’s tone, but Selene had already returned her gaze to the cloth on her lap.
“You’re becoming someone I’m so proud of, you know that?” Selene said softly, her voice catching slightly. “You have this light in you, Leah. Strength that runs so deep.”
Leah swallowed the lump in her throat. “I wish I felt it.”
Selene looked at her then and reached out to squeeze her hand. “Strength is not always loud,” she said softly. “Sometimes it waits in silence, until the moment you need it most.”
Leah let herself linger in the quiet as the words settled slowly. The silence felt unusually tender, given how rarely Selene spoke so openly. After another long moment together, Leah’s stomach gave a small, traitorous rumble. Selene chuckled.
“Well,” she said, brushing a hand over Leah’s hair with a tenderness that tightened her throat, “I suppose that’s enough heart-to-heart for one day. Let’s eat something.”
Leah laughed, grateful for the way Selene always knew when to let the silence stretch and when to break it. They moved to the kitchen, where Selene warmed a pot of lentil stew while Leah sliced bread and grabbed two bowls. The kitchen was small but cozy, its wooden beams overhead catching the soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the windows. A small round table occupied the center of the room surrounded by four chairs, though only two showed signs of regular use. The scent of herbs lingered in the air, fresh and earthy, drifting from the windowsill where freshly plucked sprigs from the back garden lay drying.
They didn’t say much as they ate, but it was never uncomfortable. Their silence was full of meaning, the kind of quiet that said everything words didn’t need to. After scraping the last of the stew from the bowl, Leah leaned back in her chair with a long exhale.
“I think I’m going to shower,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Maybe hot water might help.”
Selene smiled gently and began to gather the dishes. “Go on. I’ll take care of this.”
Leah squeezed Selene’s shoulder in thanks before standing and stepping into the narrow hallway that led to her room. Along the walls, faded photographs of a younger Leah and pressed flowers were tucked into frames. She passed the other two bedrooms, Selene’s room and her study, both modest and filled with familiar things. Her thoughts drifted briefly to the attic above, a space heavy with dust and things Selene rarely spoke about before getting to her room at the end of the hallway.
The shower was quick but much needed. The warmth eased the ache from her limbs, and for a few blissful minutes, the sense of dread she’d felt all day faded away with the steam. She dressed in soft cotton clothes and wrapped her damp hair in a towel, planning to say goodnight before heading to bed. But when she returned to the kitchen, the lights were dim and the space was empty.
Frowning, Leah stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against her warm skin. She found Selene in the garden beneath a sky of silver stars. Selene was kneeling on the soil, her fingers tracing quiet symbols into the earth before her gaze turned skyward, searching the constellations like they might answer a question only she could ask.
Leah lingered at the edge of the porch, silent. The stillness of the scene made her hesitate, as if she were intruding on something private. The candlelight from the kitchen window barely reached this far, casting Selene in soft shadow. She watched as Selene paused, her fingers resting lightly on the soil, her gaze still lifted, lips moving soundlessly as if speaking to the stars. Only then did Leah take a quiet, reverent step forward.
“Gran?”
Selene turned slowly, but her gaze was still skyward as if finishing the conversation, before finally looking at Leah. When her eyes settled on her, they softened. “I’m sorry, Leah,” she said gently. “I didn’t mean to pull you out here in the cold.”
Leah stepped into the garden, the damp grass cool beneath her feet. “I was coming to say goodnight…I didn’t know where you’d gone.”
Selene gave a quiet hum before rising slowly and brushing her hands clean on her skirt. “Sometimes I come out here when I’m feeling restless. The stars have a way of making the world feel small enough to hold.”
Leah followed her gaze. “What were you thinking about?”
A moment passed before Selene answered. “You, mostly.” She smiled again, more wistful this time. “You, and how quickly time passes. One moment you’re crawling into my lap with your blanket, and the next…you’re eighteen and grown.”
Leah wrinkled her nose. “Well…not yet technically. In a few hours.”
Selene’s smile deepened, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ah, yes. Still seventeen…clinging to childhood by a thread.”
“You make it sound so tragic,” Leah teased, nudging her gently. “It’s just a birthday.”
Selene looked at her then, and something in her expression changed. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s the beginning of everything.”
Leah blinked. “What?”
But Selene only reached out, letting her hand rest on Leah’s head. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and careful.
“Do you remember our promise?”
Leah blinked, caught off guard by the shift. “Our promise…from when I was little?”
Selene nodded slowly and turned to look out again. “If I’m ever not here…you must trust the signs, however they reveal themselves.”
A hush settled over the garden, colder than the night air. The words weren’t new, but their delivery today carried something heavier, and it made Leah feel uncomfortable.
Selene’s gaze was distant now, fixed somewhere beyond the sky. “Not all whispers need words, Leah. Some are waiting quietly and patiently for the right moment to awaken.”
Leah felt her chest tighten as that sense of dread returned full force. She stepped closer, searching her grandmother’s face for meaning. “Gran…why are you saying this now?”
Selene turned fully to her, placing a gentle hand over Leah’s. Her touch was warm, but her eyes looked sad.
“Because sometimes,” she said, “the wind carries whispers we don’t want to hear, and we don’t always get to choose when it’s time.”
Leah’s brows furrowed. “But…is something wrong?” she asked cautiously.
Selene’s smile returned, but it trembled slightly at the edges. “Not more than usual,” she said gently. “And nothing you need to worry about tonight.”
“Come now,” she added, threading her arm through Leah’s as they walked back inside. “The wind’s turning cold.”
Selene lit a single candle in Leah’s room and sat beside her on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t customary for Selene to make a big deal of birthdays, but she had a quiet tradition: the night before, she would hum a familiar tune and sing the lullaby that had cradled Leah to sleep since childhood. Tonight, however, the song carried new weight, sounding less like a simple melody and more like a quiet prayer.
Selene leaned down, caressing Leah’s cheek softly, and sang in a low voice threaded with aching tenderness:
When darkness finds you where you least expect,
And the road ahead leaves your heart unchecked,
Keep the quiet light within your soul,
It will lead you onward and make you whole.
Leah’s eyes drifted shut, lulled by the warmth in her grandmother’s voice. But even as sleep claimed her, she felt the gentle squeeze of Selene’s hand and the way it lingered a moment longer than usual, as if trying to hold on. Instinctively, Leah squeezed back, fingers brushing weathered skin as she clung to Selene’s hand and to the warmth of the moment. She pressed into it, willing away the strange ache in her chest and refusing to believe this could be anything but another quiet night.
Chapter 2
The morning was unusual, wrapped in a thick, ghostly fog that blurred the edges of the streets and softened the shapes of the weathered buildings. The air was heavy and still, carrying a damp chill that seeped into bones. No birds sang in the skeletal oaks, no leaves stirred, and even the faint murmur of distant voices seemed swallowed by the gray haze.
Inside her modest bedroom at the edge of town, a loud BEEP BEEP BEEP shattered the silence. Leah yelped and thumped against the floor, tangled in sheets and hair.
“Ugh—third alarm?!” she groaned, blinking against the morning sun. “I must have slept right through them!”
For a moment, she just lay there with the sheets twisted around her legs and the weight of the day pressing down before it had even started. Today was her birthday—eighteen—but the thought barely registered. Every birthday seemed to blur into the last, another mark on the calendar without much to show for it. Even graduating high school hadn’t changed the rhythm of her days. Same town. Same job. Same…everything.
She tried to summon a flicker of excitement, but all she felt was late. Late to grow up, late to leave, late to start anything at all. Did eighteen even mean anything if she was still caught in the same loop?
Her pulse quickened as she pushed herself out of bed. There was no time for a shower, and breakfast would have to wait. Leah pulled on yesterday’s jeans, grabbed a cardigan that smelled faintly of lavender, and hurried down the hall toward the front door where her boots waited.
“Gran, I’m late! I’ll grab something at the café!” she called, but no answer came.
The house was oddly quiet, the kind of quiet that made her skin prickle. She slowed, lingering in the hallway, and glanced toward the back window, frowning at the empty garden bed. No sun hat bobbed among the leaves like it usually did at this time. Maybe she had already gone into town, Leah thought, pausing halfway out the door. She was probably picking up that fancy tea she liked that got delivered every Saturday.
The doorbell above the café chimed loudly as she burst in, nearly slipping on the polished floorboards.
“Thomas! I am so sorry I’m late—!” Panic and apology tangled in her voice as she skidded to a stop.
Thomas stood behind the counter, wearing that too-calm smirk of his as he handed a steaming coffee across the bar. Sitting on the stool, holding the cup with both hands and blinking at her with mock innocence, was Sage.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up. I was starting to think you’d skip your own birthday and play hooky.”
Leah blinked. “Wait, what are you doing up this early?”
“Well,” Sage said, nodding toward Thomas, who was wiping down the espresso machine, “had to make sure the birthday people got all the celebrations they’d need for a weekend.”
Leah turned to Thomas, surprised. “Wait, your birthday’s today too?”
“Tomorrow,” he said with a polite smile. “Seems like the universe lined us up back-to-back.”
Leah laughed softly. “Whoa, that’s so cool! Happy early birthday, then. I guess we’ll both be eating cake all weekend.”
Sage pulled a small bunch of balloons out from behind the counter with a flourish. “Exactly. Double the parties, double the trouble.”
“You didn’t,” Leah said, grinning despite herself.
“Oh, but I did.” Sage reached into her tote bag and pulled out a flat, wrapped gift, setting it on the counter with a thud. “Don’t get misty-eyed on me. It’s not sentimental…much.”
Leah peeled back the paper and stared. Inside was a small, hand-bound photo journal with thick pages. The cover was plain but all too familiar. It was the same sketchbook they used to pass back and forth in middle school, the one they filled with doodles, notes, and weird little memories.
“You kept this?” Leah whispered, tracing her fingers over the frayed edges.
“Of course I did,” Sage said, suddenly quieter. “It’s our disaster scrapbook. I added some new pages, too, but don’t worry. None of your exes made the cut. I do have standards, after all.”
Leah laughed, blinking fast to fight back the sting in her eyes. “This is…perfect.” She hugged the scrapbook to her chest.
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Sage nudged her shoulder. “Now go make some coffee before Thomas starts thinking I came here for him.”
Leah shot a glance at Thomas, who raised a brow, then back at Sage, grinning.
“Also…” Sage slid her phone across the counter. On it was a blurry selfie of her and Thomas from the night before. He was grinning, and she was mid-laugh, a candlelit table behind them.
“You did not!” Leah gasped, half-whispering, half-laughing.
“Oh, but I did,” Sage said smugly. “Dinner. Drinks. A walk under the lanterns by the river. He’s actually pretty charming when he’s not elbow-deep in a coffee grinder.”
Thomas chuckled under his breath but didn’t look up.
“You little liar,” Leah said, nudging Sage’s arm. “I thought you hated café boys.”
“I do. Except for the ones with forearms like his.” Sage wiggled her eyebrows and glanced at Thomas, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes. “Also, he knows how to make the perfect dirty chai.”
Thomas cleared his throat. “Thank you. I aim to please.”
Sage smiled slyly before turning back to Leah. “I’ll swing by Selene’s later today since I’m already heading back tomorrow. I miss her!” She glanced at her watch, then added, “But I’ve got some things to take care of first.”
With that, she slung her bag over her shoulder, hugged Leah briefly, and headed toward the door.
“See you later, birthday girl! Try not to sleep through your alarms next time!”
Leah rolled her eyes with a grin. “No promises.”
The door swung closed behind Sage, and Leah let out a quiet sigh. The odd sensation from that morning still hovered at the edge of her thoughts, but she brushed it off as nothing more than the chaos of the day.
Thomas leaned on the counter, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Well, you two have a lot of energy in the morning.”
Leah shot him a look of amusement. “We?” she asked, grinning.
Thomas froze for a moment, then grinned sheepishly.
Leah smirked. “So…dinner and lanterns by the river, huh? That was fast.”
He shrugged, playful. “I make friends quickly.”
Leah laughed, shaking her head. “Friends? That photo makes it look like you two were planning a heist or something.”
“Just a highly coordinated dessert heist, at her request, of course,” he said, raising an imaginary glass.
Leah rolled her eyes, smiling. “You’re too much.”
“Only when someone’s watching,” he replied, smiling as the café filled with its morning rhythm.
She let out a quiet chuckle at Thomas’s grin, grateful for this lighthearted moment amid the chaos of her morning. The café was filling fast now with sleepy locals dragging in for their caffeine and the usual hum of conversation and clinking mugs. Leah slipped into the flow, pouring lattes, wiping tables, and laughing at Thomas’s jokes between orders.
Somehow, it felt easier being around him. Maybe it was because they were both August babies, and maybe that little coincidence was enough to make the day feel a bit steadier and warmer, even when everything else felt off.
For a few hours, everything felt almost normal. The café was the kind of busy that made the hours pass quickly and kept the mind from wandering. As the last customer made their way out the door, Thomas sighed, a hand rubbing the back of his head.
“Long day.”
“I didn’t think it was too bad. Being busy always helps,” Leah said as she closed the register and grabbed her cardigan from the employee room, happy she had the next day off.
“So, what’s the plan for your birthday tomorrow? Big party? Skydiving? Or maybe another highly coordinated dessert heist?” Leah asked, slipping on her cardigan with a mischievous grin.
Thomas snorted. “Tempting…but I’m trying to pace myself. Can’t keep up that kind of criminal energy.”
Leah chuckled. “Okay, then at least cake. You do like cake, right?”
“I never really celebrated birthdays,” he said, shrugging as though it were nothing. “It’s usually just another day.”
Her expression softened. She understood more than he realized. She hadn’t really celebrated birthdays either, not in any big way. Most years had passed quietly, marked only by a card from Selene or a small treat at the café. It wasn’t sad to her anymore, just the norm.
She nodded slowly. “That’s…kind of depressing,” she said softly, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “I get it, though. I’ve never been much for big birthday things either.”
He smirked, grabbing his bag from beneath the counter. “Given the fact you chose to work on your birthday, I can see that.”
Leah laughed. “Look who’s talking! Don’t you work tomorrow? You’re at least getting one cupcake with a candle. No arguments.”
Thomas gave a mock sigh, brushing a hand briefly over his temple as they stepped toward the exit. “A cupcake, huh? Dangerous. I might get used to this whole ‘being celebrated’ thing.”
“Good,” she said, shooting him a grin. “Then I’ll consider it my civic duty to corrupt you with sugar on your workday.”
Thomas chuckled. “Well, we still need to see if I survive this cupcake of yours.”
Leah shook her head, amused, but as she stepped outside into the crisp air, the laughter faded faster than expected. The strange stillness settled over the street again, pressing quietly at the edges of her awareness.
“See you later, Leah.”
“Goodnight! See you tomorrow,” she called back, distracted by the odd tension she felt.
There was no rustle of leaves or chatter from the locals, just the sound of her own boots crunching against the gravel path. The lights inside other stores were beginning to dim, marking the end of another workday. Faded signs swung lazily on creaking hinges and the streetlamps flickered, casting long shadows across the pavement. With each step, the path back home seemed to stretch endlessly and the silence around her grew denser, broken only by the occasional shop door locking up for the night.
By the time she reached the crooked gate of her home, her steps had slowed. The garden remained untouched, not a single tool out of place. She looked around as she turned the key to open the door, then paused with her hand on the doorknob, a knot tightening in her stomach.
“Gran?” she called, stepping inside the house. “I’m home!”
Silence answered.
She wandered through the living room, noting every detail. Everything was exactly as they’d left it the night before. The tea they had brewed still sat cold on the stove. The half-finished knitting project remained draped over Selene’s chair, needles paused mid-stitch as if Selene had only stepped away for a moment.
“Gran?” Leah’s voice wavered, louder this time. She checked her bedroom, the study, the back garden, and even the small reading nook where Selene sometimes dozed off. She could feel it now. It wasn’t just silence, it was absence. A subtle void, like the warmth had been drained from the walls. A flicker of unease tightened her chest. Selene was never this quiet.
Maybe she had gone out again and had gotten distracted by a conversation with the owner of the butterfly nursery, as she often did. But Selene had a habit of making sure she was home by the time Leah finished her shift. Something just wasn’t right.
Leah stood frozen in the kitchen, tension rising in her chest. Where is she? The stress built into a pressure that crept up behind her eyes. Leah leaned against the kitchen table, trying to focus on anything other than the dread curling in her stomach and the headache beginning to form once more.
Her eyes scanned the kitchen and settled on Selene’s mug. Is that a new cup of tea? Is the tea still warm? Leah stepped hesitantly toward it, and the instant her fingers touched the handle, something shifted.
For the briefest second, she saw her grandmother’s hands locking a small chest in the attic. She felt as though she were standing right behind her, watching every careful motion. The image vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving Leah blinking at the mug in her hands while her heart raced in sudden, frantic circles.
The mug was cold…almost as cold as the air outside. Leah set it back down, unease and confusion tightening her expression. Acting on instinct, she made her way to the hallway, drawn toward the attic door above. She reached for the rope and pulled, the hatch creaking loudly as it groaned against years of disuse. The sound was startlingly sharp in the hush of the house, but Leah didn’t notice.
Fogged, disoriented, and with every nerve on edge, she drew a slow breath and began to climb the stairs. Each step seemed pulled by the memory of a vision that wasn’t hers—a silent secret waiting just beyond the attic door.
Hours earlier, at dawn on that very morning, long before Leah’s footsteps ever touched the garden path, another story had already come to its end.
The candle on Selene’s desk had long since burned low, but she hadn’t moved. Her hands trembled as they hovered over the book she had sworn to protect. A soft incantation slipped from her lips, sealing it with a protective spell. Around her neck hung a pendant of deep green stone set in tarnished silver.
Selene rose slowly, joints aching beneath the weight of years and knowledge she had carried alone. She climbed the attic stairs and faced the old chest, a pang of fear and sadness settling in her chest at the thought of the life Leah would soon inherit. Carefully, she placed the book inside, knowing it would call to Leah once she was gone.
With a weight heavier than her heart could bear, she left the attic and moved silently through the house, her slippers barely audible against the old wooden floorboards. She paused in Leah’s doorway, watching her sleep soundly with the sheets tangled around her legs and one hand curled loosely beneath her chin.
Her throat tightened. Eighteen. It was always meant to play out this way. When the Seer’s blood awakens on her eighteenth birthday, the one who sheltered her must pay the price. That was the pact. The cost of shielding a bloodline the world believed long extinct.
Selene stepped closer, brushing hair from Leah’s face. “You were always made for more, Leah. Today you awaken,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Forgive me for leaving you this way.”
She would not run. Her death would be her final act of protection— a cloak, a severing, and a sacrifice— that would keep Leah hidden just long enough. Selene stepped back as Leah murmured something in her sleep and rolled over, unaware. Tears welled in Selene’s eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.
Moving through the house, she murmured soft incantations, weaving old magic tightly around the cottage. The enchantments were precise and powerful, shielding Leah from harm and concealing the house itself from detection by anyone on the other side of the Veil for a precious few days. It didn’t matter if the Order sensed something had changed. By the time they traced it, Leah would already be beyond reach.
With one final breath, Selene stepped into the chill of the autumn morning, protective magic wrapping around the cottage like an invisible veil.
The wind howled through the trees in the Hollow, rattling branches and stirring dry leaves across the desolate hills. Beneath the shadow of an ancient stone tower, Selene stood alone, her cloak tugged tight around her shoulders. This place had once been a refuge. A gathering point. Now it was only a graveyard of what used to be.
She had stood here many times in her youth, when laughter filled the hills. But that was before the town burned. Before the tower fell silent. Before everything changed.
She had known this day would come the moment she took Leah in. That was when she made the sacred pact that bound their fates forever. A promise etched in magic and sealed with sacrifice. As soon as the child turned eighteen, Selene’s own life must end. Only then would the dormant power within Leah awaken, ready to face the darkness gathering beyond their fragile sanctuary.
A cold prickle ran down her spine. The unmistakable signal she had dreaded for years. The Order had found them at last. She had sensed the Order’s agents as she exited Eldergrove. They, having stalked her every step for years, had finally infiltrated the town—posing as tourists and mapping residents for any trace of magic. The quiet hours were over. There was no running or hiding anymore. All that remained was the sacrifice she had prepared for years.
In her trembling hands, she held the delicate pendant she had crafted for Leah long ago, a simple stone cradled a memory that could only be unlocked through this final act. Through it, she would pass on the answers Leah needed, answers she could not give her tonight.
Selene closed her eyes and let the weight of everything press down on her. Years of fear, hope, whispered promises, and stolen smiles had all led to this. The ache beneath her ribs was heavier than any spell, a reminder that magic was never free of sacrifice.
Her thoughts drifted to Leah, the child she had raised, protected, and loved like her own. Selene’s voice broke the silence, trembling at first, then growing stronger as she began to chant. Each syllable wove into a spell, sending ripples through hidden currents of magic and calling allies long scattered across the Hollows.
Each note was both a shield and a summon. Her eyes glowed bright green as the pendant pulsed against her chest, drinking in her voice. As the chant neared the end, her breath grew shallow, her body weakening, but her spirit clung fiercely to the pendant and to the child who would carry everything forward.
With a final, shuddering note, the chant wove itself into the morning mist— a blessing, a burden, and a beacon all at once. Selene opened her eyes one final time to the rising sun, letting its warmth brush her face as she whispered the words she had carried for years.
“You were always made for more, Leah. I love you.”
A tear traced down her cheek before her knees gave way, and she collapsed among the ruins. Her body stilled, but her sacrifice and her love lingered in every pulse of magic she left behind.
The wind outside had quieted. But in the attic of Leah’s home, beneath layers of dust, something had begun to stir, a newly awakened thread of power.
The narrow staircase creaked under Leah’s weight as she climbed, dust thick in the air when she entered the room. The dim light seeped through a grimy window, illuminating boxes, old furniture, and yellowed photographs stacked haphazardly around her. Leah took a slow step forward, letting her hand brush the faded wallpaper as the scent of aged wood lingered in the air.
She hadn’t been up here in years. The last time she had climbed these steps, she’d been no more than eight, trailing after Selene while new bedroom furniture was hauled in downstairs. She remembered wobbling up the ladder, wide-eyed at the treasure trove of forgotten things. But Selene had gently steered her back toward the hatch almost immediately, her tone warm but firm, saying there were things up here “best left to rest.”
Then she saw it.
A small brown chest tucked beneath a pile of old quilts and curtains. It looked mundane, but she was almost certain it was the same one she’d seen in that strange vision. Leah stopped, staring at it, willing herself to break the trance she felt floating in. This was ridiculous. What was she even doing up here? The stillness was unsettling, and yet something inside her stirred, insisting the chest held something important.
Her fingers trembled as she brushed the dust away. The lock was old, but it clicked open easily. Nestled inside on a bed of velvet lay a thick, leather-bound book. Faded gold filigree traced the cover, but the title had worn away, leaving only a few illegible marks.
Leah’s heart raced as she lifted it. It felt warm in her hands, as if the velvet had kept it that way. She slowly turned the fragile, yellowed pages, only to discover they were all blank.
That didn’t seem right.
She flipped through them again, and this time fleeting traces of shimmering ink appeared across a page. She squinted, ignoring the pressure building behind her eyes, leaning closer to inspect it. Before she could think further, the book seemed to come alive, flipping itself to a page near the center. A shimmer rippled across it in waves. Compelled, Leah traced her finger along the flickering spots.
Cold seeped into her bones the instant she touched the page. The room shifted and the air thickened with a strange energy that froze her in place. The pressure behind her eyes was pulsing now, and she was sure she had to be hallucinating from a terrible migraine.
Then, just before she decided it was probably best to go back downstairs, images began surging into her mind. She did not recognize them as memories, at least not her own. These visions and flashes seemed off and distant, almost as if they were visions of the future, sharp and vivid, unfolding faster than she could process. She saw faces—some familiar, some unknown—places she had never been to, and snippets of events flashing too fast to comprehend.
The shimmer on the page flared bright, flooding Leah’s vision in white. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images came anyway, snapping in and out of focus—A stone archway, a man wearing an emerald cloak, a room lit by candlelight, and a sinister smile.
Then, in the midst of it all, a voice whispered her name.
“Leah.”
Her name pulled her upright, just enough to catch a breath, before it was knocked right back out of her. When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the attic.
Mist curled around her ankles and before her, a dead, ruined town stretched silently in every direction where Selene’s boxes should have been. What had once been homes and shops were now little more than broken shells. Walls were split open, roofs had collapsed inward, and doorways gaped. Stone and timber lay scattered across the ground, swallowed by ash and creeping moss.
Leah staggered back, grabbing for something that wasn’t there. “What—” Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “Hello?” she called, her voice trembling.
From the haze, a figure emerged. A man, not much older than she was, stood watching her. His hood shadowed his face, his cloak shifting in the fog. Leah took a step forward, only for the world to spin again.
The ruins dissolved, and a man’s voice spoke softly.
“The time has come. Your power is unlocked. Hold the book close. Its power will guide you.”
The vision cracked like glass and Leah collapsed to her knees, the book slipping from her hands as nausea rolled through her. Her breath came shallow and ragged, spots flickering at the edges of her vision.
When she lifted her head, the attic felt different. The walls felt closer, the shadows deeper. Dust clung to her skin as her eyes locked on the leather-bound book at her feet. Its edges fluttered slightly, disturbed by no breeze.
Your power is unlocked.
The words echoed in her head. Leah squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as nausea twisted again.
“Power? I don’t have power,” she whispered. “I make lattes. I schedule supply orders.”
A brittle laugh escaped her, then died. This wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t even a nightmare. She had seen unfamiliar places and people and heard a voice that sounded so familiar. This was definitely a hallucination. It had to be. She picked up the book with unsteady hands and hugged it to her chest, trying to steady the rush of emotions crashing over her all over again.
Once the pressure behind her eyes eased and her breath evened out, she simply stared at the book. She couldn’t think of anything that she had eaten or drank prior to getting home that could have been tampered with to create such intense hallucinations.
“What are you?” she asked the book, half-expecting it to answer.
The attic creaked, making Leah spin, expecting the hooded man or another vision, but the room was empty. She let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking her head.
What is going on?
Flipping the book open again, she paused at a page where the shimmers spiraled inward. The pull was irresistible.
“Okay,” she muttered.
Her finger traced the page again, and the room responded instantly. Cold rushed in, the page growing brighter and brighter until she stood at the edge of a cliff.
Wind tore at her from every direction, whipping her hair and tugging at her clothes as if trying to hurl her into the sea below. Waves smashed against the rocks with a thunderous force that vibrated through her bones.
Her heart thrashed. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t real. But every sensation was too sharp and too loud.
And she wasn’t alone.
The realization crawled up her spine. A presence stood behind her, close enough that the air shifted the moment she felt it. Fear coiled tight in her chest, stealing her breath.
Turn around.
With a deep breath, she turned, but the world twisted again.
She blinked, and a library replaced the cliff. Hundreds of books lined the walls, the air scented with parchment and soil. A lantern swayed gently overhead, and at the center of the room stood a figure cloaked in deep blue.
Nico.
The name, whispered in her grandmother’s voice, landed like thunder in her bones.
Before she could think, another vision surged forward. Chaos this time. Faces she didn’t recognize, some kind, some terrifying. And at the center of it all, a man with a crooked smile and dark, unreadable eyes.
When he locked eyes with her, Leah gasped and stumbled back, the air punched from her lungs.
The attic tilted and shadows crowded in. Her breath came in short bursts as the familiar panic clawed its way up her throat. She grabbed the nearest box and forced herself to focus, counting floorboards, steadying her exhales, and blinking away the cold sweat that had gathered at her brows.
Instinctively, her fingers slid to the bracelet around her wrist. She clutched it until her pulse began to slow beneath her touch.
When the world finally steadied, she glanced down at the book. It lay on the floor like any ordinary object, and yet a knot tightened in her chest. She had lived in this house her entire life. She knew every drawer, every crooked step, every hiding place. But this…she had never seen this. Not once.
Is this why Gran didn’t want me up here?
The thought lodged like a splinter just as a soft knock echoed from downstairs, followed by a familiar voice.
“Leah?”
It was Sage.
Leah blinked, disoriented. The attic suddenly felt suffocating, dust swirling like ghosts in the half-light.
“Yeah,” she called hoarsely, her voice catching. “Coming.”
