Angel 👹

CHAPTER ONE: THE BLACKOUT Angel had always known her life was different. Not in the way people liked to romanticize—no secret adventures, no hidden talents she could brag about. Just quiet. Controlled. Predictable. Too predictable. For sixteen years, her world had been carefully contained within the walls of her home. Lessons at the dining table. Books stacked neatly in corners. Her mother’s voice guiding every subject, every schedule, every hour. No distractions. No outsiders. No real life. And now, suddenly— “That’s not fair!” Angel’s voice cracked through the living room, sharp and louder than she intended. Her mother didn’t flinch. “You’re starting school on Monday, Angel,” she said calmly, folding a piece of laundry as if they weren’t standing in the middle of an argument that felt like it was tearing something open inside her daughter. “This isn’t a discussion anymore.” Angel stared at her in disbelief. “Not a discussion?” she repeated. “You’ve kept me at home my entire life, and now—now you just decide I’m going to walk into a school full of strangers like it’s normal?” “It is normal.” “No, it’s not!” Angel snapped. “Not for me!” The room felt smaller. Tighter. Her chest rose and fell too quickly. From the couch, her older brother shifted slightly. “Angel…” muttered, running a hand through his hair. At nineteen, he carried himself with a kind of quiet detachment—as if he’d already figured out something the rest of them hadn’t. “It’s just school. You’ll survive.” She turned to him, eyes flashing. “Oh, that’s easy for you to say. You actually went to school. You had friends. You had a life.” Aaron shrugged. “And now I’m fine.” “That’s not the point!” “Then what is?” he shot back, though not unkindly. Angel hesitated. Because she didn’t know how to explain it. How do you tell someone that the world outside your house doesn’t just feel unfamiliar—it feels wrong? Like you don’t belong in it? Like something is waiting? Her mother finally looked up, her expression softening—but only slightly. “This is for your own good, Angel.” That sentence. Angel hated that sentence. “You don’t get to decide that!” she said, her voice shaking now. “You don’t get to just throw me out there like I’m some experiment!” “I’m not throwing you anywhere,” her mother replied, more firmly now. “I’m giving you a chance to live a normal life.” Normal. The word echoed in Angel’s head like an insult. “I don’t want your version of normal!” she snapped. Silence fell. Heavy. Thick. Even Aaron sat up straighter now. Something in the air had changed. Angel felt it before she understood it. A strange pressure—building slowly in her chest, spreading outward like heat under her skin. Her hands trembled. Her heartbeat quickened. “Angel…” her mother said carefully. “Calm down.” But it was already too late. “I am calm,” Angel whispered, though her voice betrayed her. The lights flickered. Aaron frowned. “Did you see—” “Stop it,” her mother said, sharper now, though it wasn’t clear who she was talking to. Angel’s breathing grew uneven. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Her reflection in the nearby mirror caught her eye—and for a second, just a second— It didn’t move the way she did. Her stomach dropped. “What is happening…?” she whispered. The pressure inside her surged. Her vision blurred. Her mother took a step toward her. “Angel—” And then— Everything went black. — When she opened her eyes again, the silence was different. Deeper. Colder. Angel inhaled sharply, her breath visible in the air. She froze. This wasn’t her house. She was standing outside. Gravel crunched faintly beneath her shoes as she shifted her weight. The air carried a damp chill, the kind that seeped into your bones and refused to leave. Slowly, she looked up. And her breath caught in her throat. The mansion loomed before her. Massive. Dark. Watching. Tall windows stretched upward like hollow eyes, reflecting nothing but darkness. The stone walls were blackened with age, vines crawling across them like veins. The iron gates behind her stood open, unmoving, as if they had been waiting for her. Angel’s heart began to pound. “No…” she whispered. She knew this place. Everyone did. The Blackthorne mansion. No one came here. No one talked about it. And yet— She was standing right in front of it. A cold wind brushed past her, carrying something faint. A whisper. She turned sharply. “Hello?” Nothing. Of course. Swallowing hard, she looked back at the mansion. The front doors were slightly open. Just enough. Darkness spilled out from within like it was alive. “I need to go home…” she murmured. But her feet didn’t move. Instead— They stepped forward. One step. Then another. As if something inside her was pulling her closer. — The door creaked as she pushed it open. The sound echoed unnaturally loud, bouncing off unseen walls and disappearing into the depths of the house. Inside, the air was colder. Still. Dust floated through thin beams of moonlight. The grand staircase curved upward into darkness, its railing coated in age and silence. Angel hugged her arms tightly around herself. “I shouldn’t be here…” But she kept walking. The house twisted around her—hallways stretching too long, corners bending in ways they shouldn’t. Doors appeared and disappeared when she wasn’t looking directly at them. And then— She found it. A door unlike the others. Dark wood. Covered in carved symbols that seemed to shift when she tried to focus on them. Her pulse quickened. Something about it felt… important. Dangerous. She reached out slowly. Her fingers hovered over the handle. “Don’t open it,” she whispered to herself. And then— She did. — The room beyond was untouched. Candles burst into flame the moment she stepped inside. Angel gasped, stumbling back slightly. “I didn’t—” The flames flickered wildly before settling into a steady glow. At the center of the room stood a single table. And on it— A book. Large. Ancient. Bound in cracked black leather. It felt wrong. And yet— She couldn’t look away. Her feet moved on their own. Closer. Closer. “Don’t touch it…” she whispered. But her hand lifted anyway. The moment her fingers brushed the cover— A sharp jolt shot through her body. Angel gasped, her knees nearly buckling as a surge of energy rushed through her veins. The candles flared violently. The book grew warm beneath her touch. Alive. Her breathing became uneven. Slowly—hesitantly—she opened it. The pages flipped on their own. Faster. Faster. Until suddenly— They stopped. Silence fell. Angel’s eyes dropped to the page. Simple words stared back at her. Clear. Waiting. Her lips parted. And before she could stop herself— She read them aloud. “Umbra vex… nocta rise…” The temperature dropped instantly. The shadows shifted. Angel’s heart slammed against her chest. “I didn’t mean to—” The shadows peeled away from the walls. Lifting. Twisting. Rising like living smoke. They circled her slowly. Watching. Waiting. A voice whispered from everywhere at once— “You called.” Terror gripped her. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to!” But the shadows moved closer. And something inside her responded. That same force. That anger. That power. Her hands trembled. But this time— She didn’t fight it. The shadows stilled. Then slowly— They bowed. Silence fell. Heavy. Absolute. Angel stood at the center, breathing hard, her eyes wide. Not just with fear. But with something else. Something deeper. Because the shadows weren’t attacking her. They were obeying her. — Miles away— Something ancient stirred. And for the first time in years— It smiled.