Asrai

Chapter 12: There's a problem

The room had been remodeled—something I was slowly noticing in every space I stepped into. A new daybed stood against the wall, its golden handles gleaming softly in the light. It looked cozy and inviting, dressed in a floral blue-and-white cotton comforter with delicate lace trim. On either side sat two small white shelf dressers, each topped with matching pillows that added a touch of symmetry and charm.

A large round rug sprawled across the floor, so wide that half of it disappeared beneath the bed’s frame. Against the far wall stood a desk and small chair, simple and clean, with a camisole lamp casting a warm glow over its surface. Just beyond that was a door—my closet. Familiar, yet somehow different. Like everything else in this house, it had changed while I was away.

I turned and noticed another panel on the wall—sleek, barely noticeable until you were looking for it. I pressed it, and the surface lit up, revealing two immediant icons: one to release the stairs, the other to retract them. I tapped the retract button, and the steps began folding in on themselves, each section sliding upward in a quiet, fluid motion. Within seconds, the stairs were lifted again.

I slide the floor door shut and locked the latch with a soft click. Curious, I glanced back at the panel. A row of glowing dots appeared at the bottom of the screen. When I touched them, a menu unfolded. A digital interface glowed to life, revealing a grid of labeled buttons and icons—each one precise, intentional. There was a Disable Downstairs Panel. I guessed that it would disable the stair release from the lower level. It was comforting to know no one could come up unless invited.

A Call for Cook A soft green icon shaped like a chef’s hat. I'm sure tapping it sent a signal to the kitchen hub, requesting a meal

The red icon read -Danger Mode.

Below the main controls, a row of customizable settings allowed me to program routines—lighting, music, temperature—all tailored to mood or time of day. It wasn’t just a panel. It was command central for a space designed to feel safe, private, and entirely yours.“Fancy, fancy, fancy,” I murmured, half amused, half impressed.

I was spent. I tapped the Disable Downstairs Panel, dimmed the lights, and sank into bed. The room wrapped around me in quiet darkness, but sleep felt distant. After what I’d seen in the woods today—those lost enchanted, that woman—I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to close my eyes again without seeing it all over.

I thought exhaustion would win. I thought sleep would come. But the night stretched on, long and restless, and I didn’t drift off until the first light of morning crept across the floor.

Morning arrived slowly, like it was unsure of its welcome. Pale light filtered through the loft windows, casting soft lines across the floor where the stairs had folded away. I hadn’t slept—just drifted in and out of thought, watching shadows stretch and shrink as the hours passed.

The woods beyond the house were still. Too still. No docile song outside, no rustling leaves by any of the faelike creatures that constantly play in the thickets . Just silence, thick and deliberate.

I sat up, the comforter slipping off my shoulders.

Downstairs, I could almost hear movement—quiet footsteps, the clink of dishes, maybe Cook humming under her breath. Normal sounds. Familiar ones. But they felt distant, like echoes from a life I hadn’t yet fully returned to.

I pulled on a sweater and padded to the window, peering out at the tree line. Beyond our boarders the woods looked ordinary in daylight. But I knew better now. I’d seen something out there—something that I wouldn't forget soon.

And morning, for all its light, hadn’t chased it away.

After a quick devotion and prayer

I spent at least two hours on my laptop, The wifi was... very slow no doubt effected by the veil. I was trying to catch up with the world. Emails trinkled in—some from Casey, asking why I hadn’t called or answered her messages. I was surprised she had thought to email me so quickly. I thought I would have had some weeks before she thought to do that.

The weight of exhaustion pressed down harder, and a wave of queasiness rolled through me. I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened Netflix, hoping for something to distract me, something light enough to quiet my thoughts. I settled on The Flash, letting the familiar rush of speed and heroics blur the edges of my mind.

Eventually, hunger nudged me out of my cocoon of avoidance and I was starting to get annoyed but the constant buffering. I decided to head downstairs. As I passed the back window, something caught my eye—the fae steed, resting at the edge of the forest. His coat shimmered white as snow, and his antlers stretched long and elegant, glinting with silver and gold.

I paused, watching him. He lifted his head, sensing me. With a soft neigh, he tossed it up and down, acknowledging my gaze.

I may have to give him a name, I thought, as I turned toward the door.

I tapped the panel and watched as the stairs unfolded, cascading downward with quiet precision. My nerves buzzed as I stepped into the hallway. Gran’s floor was silent, the kind of hush that made every footstep feel louder than it should.

As I approached the main staircase, I passed one of the side rooms and caught the sound of shuffling inside. I paused for half a second, then dismissed it and continued down the stairs.

The second floor belonged to Aunt Alexandria, Uncle Austin, and Vianna. As I passed, I spotted my other cousin Vince descending from the opposite end. His eyes widened when he saw me.

“River!” his deep baritone called out, surprised. “I heard you were coming back—I didn’t know you were already here.”

Before I could respond, he pulled me into a hug. I let myself sink into it. I hadn’t hugged a single family member since returning, and Vince had always been one of the few who truly had my back. It felt good—familiar.

Vince Monaco now held the title of Acting Beta—a role long anticipated, with no challengers in the line of succession. From the time he was young, it was understood: Beta first, Alpha eventually. The future had always been his to inherit. And though he never flaunted it, the weight of that destiny lingered in every measured step, every quiet glance. He wore it like a second skin—silent, steady, inevitable.

He carried the quiet elegance of someone born into power but shaped by restraint. Tall and lean, Vince moved like a shadow—more strategist than warrior, more presence than spectacle. His skin was a warm medium brown with carmel undertones, often kissed by moonlight during his late-night patrols. Thick, dark curls framed his face, falling just above his brows and accentuating sharp cheekbones and a jawline that spoke of nobility.

His eyes were the Monaco family trademark stormy gray—deep, unreadable, like clouded glass that hinted at the thoughts beneath. He dressed in tailored layers: charcoal coats, muted silvers, midnight blues. Always refined, never ostentatious. On his right hand, a silver ring bore the Monaco crest—a quiet symbol of legacy.

Vince moved with precision, his presence more felt than seen. He slipped into rooms like a whisper, but when he spoke, people listened. There was a tension in him—not of aggression, but of control. Like a blade wrapped in velvet, he was always watching, always calculating. But never cruel.

“Hi, Vince. How are you?” I asked.

“Better now that you’re home,” he said with a warm smile.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I replied, smiling timidly.

“No, River,” he said, his tone shifting.

“It hasn’t been the same without you. Our little River Wolf.” he smirked

I looked down, unsure how to respond.

“Gran threw herself into her duties even more,” he continued. “She mostly blames my mom—since she was in charge while Gran was stuck in those endless council meetings. You know how long those go… all the fighting, and then your departure. Even Vianna’s been blamed to some extent. Their relationships haven’t been the same.”

“Even the weirdness with the Looking Pool…” Vince started, then trailed off.

I gave him a puzzled look.

He paused, catching himself. “Sorry,” he said gently. his hand hitting his neck “I know it’s a lot. And you just got back.”

I offered a warm smile, not wanting to get pulled into pack politics. Not yet.

He glanced toward the stairs. “I’m heading to the Pavlov mansion to talk about strategy. We’ll catch up later, alright?”

“Riv,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “just… be careful. I know you may want to slip off to the river in the forest.”

He hesitated, then continued, “But things aren’t the same out there anymore. More and more people are getting caught and dragged into The Dark Woods. We don’t know why. It’s like the magic’s turning on itself—backfiring. Some of the enchantments are flickering, fading. Losing their grip.”

His eyes met mine, steady and concerned. “Whatever’s happening… it’s not just strange. It’s dangerous.”

I nodded slowly, the weight of it settling between us.

'Ok, Vince.. I'll be careful' I responded as he gave me a hug goodbye.

I watched Vince disappear down the stairs, his warning echoing in my mind like a distant drumbeat.

The Looking Pool. Flickering enchantments. Failing borders… Is the veil fully intact, I wondered..