The Morning Everything Changes
1229 Words
Malia woke up screaming.
It tore out of her chest before she was fully conscious raw, panicked, the sound of someone drowning in air. She bolted upright in bed, heart slamming so hard it hurt, her hands clawing at the sheets as if they were the only thing anchoring her to the room.
Her bedroom was glowing.
Not sunlight. Not the soft morning haze she was used to. This was brighter, sharper threads of pale gold light curling through the air like smoke, pulsing gently as if the room itself had a heartbeat. The walls shimmered, shadows bending in impossible ways. Dust motes hung frozen midair, sparkling.
“Whatwhat the hell”
Her voice cracked.
The glow responded.
It surged, brighter, warmer, rushing toward her like it recognized her. Panic flooded her veins, ice cold and instant. She scrambled backward, hitting the headboard with a dull thud, breath coming in shallow, broken gasps.
“No. No, no, no, no”
Her hands were glowing too.
Light seeped from beneath her skin, tracing faint patterns along her fingers, her wrists. She stared at them in horror, flexing her fingers wildly like she could shake it off, like this was some kind of hallucination she could outrun if she moved fast enough.
“I’m dreaming,” she said aloud, voice shaking. “I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming.”
The pendant at her throat burned.
She cried out, grabbing at it instinctively and the moment her fingers closed around the metal, the room exploded with light.
The curtains flew open with a sharp snap. The lamp on her nightstand shattered, glass raining down across the floor. Her books toppled from the shelves as if shoved by unseen hands, pages fluttering wildly. The air roared, thick and alive, pressing against her chest until she could barely breathe.
Malia screamed again.
“Mom! MOM!”
Footsteps thundered down the hallway.
“Malia!”
Her bedroom door flew open, slamming against the wall hard enough to c***k the paint.
Elara froze in the doorway.
For a split second, neither of them moved.
The room was chaos light pouring from every corner, the air rippling like heat over asphalt. Malia sat curled against the headboard, eyes wide and wild, tears streaming down her face as golden light spilled uncontrollably from her hands, her chest, her hair lifting slightly as if caught in a current.
“Oh gods,” Elara whispered.
That was all it took.
Malia sobbed, a broken, hysterical sound that ripped straight out of her. “Make it stop,” she begged. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening, I can’tI can’t”
Elara crossed the room in three long strides, stepping through the light without hesitation. She dropped to her knees beside the bed and grabbed Malia’s glowing hands, gripping them firmly despite the heat.
“Malia,” she said sharply, urgently. “Look at me. Look at me.”
“I’m scared,” Malia choked. “I’m really scared.”
“I know,” her mother said, voice trembling despite the control she was fighting to maintain. “I know. But you’re not in danger. You’re not dying. You’re not losing your mind.”
“How do you know that?” Malia shouted, hysteria bleeding into anger. “The room is everything is this isn’t normal!”
“I know,” Elara repeated, softer now. “I know because I’ve been waiting for this.”
That stopped her.
The light flickered.
Malia stared at her mother through blurred vision. “Waiting for what?”
Elara swallowed. Her grip tightened, grounding, steady. “For you to wake up.”
The words made no sense. None at all. Malia shook her head violently. “No. No, don’t say that like that. Don’t don’t make this worse.”
“I need you to breathe,” Elara said. “Just breathe with me, okay? In. Out. Focus on my voice.”
“I can’t,” Malia gasped. “It won’t stop it’s everywhere”
“It’s reacting to you,” Elara said. “To your fear.”
Malia laughed, sharp and broken. “That’s comforting.”
“I know it doesn’t feel like it,” her mom said gently, “but you’re doing this. Which means you can undo it.”
“I don’t know how!”
“You don’t need to know how yet,” Elara said. “You just need to let go.”
Malia stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Let go of what?”
“Control,” Elara said quietly.
The word hit something deep in Malia’s chest.
She’d always held herself together. Always been the one who didn’t make a fuss, who stayed calm, who pushed through. Even now, some part of her was trying to clamp down, to force the fear back where it belonged.
Her body was shaking from the effort.
“What if I can’t?” she whispered.
“Then I’ll be right here,” Elara said. “But you have to try.”
Malia squeezed her eyes shut.
Her breathing stuttered, then slowed. She loosened her grip on the pendant, stopped trying to shove the panic away. Instead, she let it wash through her fear, confusion, anger, all of it crashing together.
The light softened.
Not gonebut gentler. The pressure in the room eased. The air settled, objects slowly drifting back to where they belonged. The glow along her skin dimmed to a faint warmth, like embers instead of flame.
When Malia opened her eyes, the room looked almost normal.
Almost.
She sagged forward, collapsing against her mother’s shoulder as exhaustion hit her all at once.
Elara wrapped her arms around her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Malia clung to her like she was afraid she’d disappear.
They stayed like that for a long moment the only sound Malia’s uneven breathing and the faint ticking of the hallway clock.
Finally, Malia pulled back, wiping at her face with trembling hands. “You knew,” she said hoarsely.
Elara nodded once.
“You knew this was going to happen,” Malia said, disbelief creeping into her voice. “And you didn’t tell me.”
“I wanted to,” Elara said. Pain flickered across her face. “I tried to find a way to keep you safe without burdening you with the truth before you were ready.”
Malia laughed weakly. “Ready? For this?”
“No one is ever ready,” Elara said. Then, more quietly, “But eighteen is the point of no return.”
Malia’s chest tightened. “What are you talking about?”
Elara took a breath steadying herself. When she spoke again, her voice was calmbut heavy, like every word carried years of weight.
“Malia,” she said, “you’re not human.”
The world seemed to tilt.
“I—what?”
Elara met her gaze, eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’re fae.”
The word landed like a thunderclap.
Malia stared at her mother, waiting for laughter. For a just kidding. For anything that would make this feel less real.
None came.
“And that,” Elara added softly, “is why we need to talk.”
The light in the room pulsed once low and steady like it was listening.
- Writer
