Lilly
The night was calm, the moon bathing the earth in a silver glow. Lilly sat outside, gazing at the sky, letting the vastness of it swallow her thoughts. She needed this quiet, this stillness, to silence the ache inside her.
She traced patterns on the wooden armrest of her chair, her mind drifting back to Grandma Alice. "Keeping hope means hoping when no evidence comes forward," she used to say. The words echoed in her head like a song she couldn’t forget. Alice had been the only one who understood her. The only one who truly saw her.
Since Alice’s passing, life had been a blur of loneliness and empty days. She had moved in with Uncle Sam—a man whose presence was both a comfort and a mystery. Tall, dark, and oddly peculiar, he had golden-brown eyes that seemed almost unnatural. People whispered about him, but Lilly had long since stopped listening.
A warm hand touched her chin, jolting her from her thoughts.
"What are you thinking about?"
Lilly turned to see Uncle Sam standing beside her, his gaze probing.
"Nothing," she muttered.
Sam sighed, shaking his head. "You know I don’t accept ‘nothing’ as an answer. Either you tell me, or I keep asking."
Lilly groaned. "You’re so annoying."
"It’s a gift," he said with a smirk. "Now, spill."
She hesitated before finally speaking. "I was thinking about Grandma… about how we used to go fishing, swimming… and how we stitched torn clothes together."
Sam's face softened. "She was wonderful. But, Lilly, I know she wouldn’t want you to spend your life trapped in sadness."
"I know, but it’s hard to let go."
Sam took her hand gently. "I’m not asking you to forget her. Just… live. Find happiness, even in small things. Life is worth living."
Lilly exhaled. "I’ll try."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Sam grinned. "Good. Now let’s go inside. Those plates won’t wash themselves."
She laughed softly and followed him in.
---
Tuesday morning in Glomsmire was a storm of people, cars, and noise—so different from Elnor. Back home, life was slow, peaceful. Here, everything moved too fast.
Lilly walked through the streets, dodging people rushing in all directions.
"I miss Elnor," she muttered.
Sam, walking beside her, chuckled. "You’ve been doing a lot of missing lately."
She rolled her eyes. "Can you blame me?"
"Nope. But maybe it’s time to start looking forward instead of back."
They reached the bus stop. Sam was heading to work, and she was going to school—alone, as usual.
At Glomsmire High, Lilly kept her head down, earbuds in, even though she wasn’t listening to anything. It was just an excuse to avoid people. She had no friends here. She missed BettySnore and Elina.
As she walked through the hallway, she felt eyes on her. She was used to it. People always stared.
Then came the voice.
"The weirdo is here. Welcome, weirdo!"
Salvador. The school’s self-proclaimed king of sarcasm.
Lilly didn’t respond. She just shot him a look—one so cold it made the group around him shift uncomfortably.
Before he could say more, Mr. Tristan entered the classroom.
---
Mr. Tristan was a short man with a thick accent that didn’t match anyone else’s in Glomsmire. He had a habit of repeating topics, but Lilly didn’t mind. In fact, history had become her favorite subject.
"Class, today we discuss necromancy," he began, adjusting his glasses.
A boy named Saint raised his hand. "Necromancy is the worship of the dead!"
Mr. Tristan nodded. "Close, but not entirely correct. Necromancy is the conjuration of spirits for the purpose of revealing the future or influencing events."
Lilly sat up straighter. Something about this lesson intrigued her.
Mr. Tristan continued. "Seventeen years ago, in Elnor, a powerful witch tried to bring her husband back from the dead. The PERCHES—also known as the CLEANSERS—stopped her. She was executed, but her followers believe she will return."
Berry raised a hand. "Who are the PERCHES?"
Mr. Tristan smiled. "The PERCHES are half-witch, half-werewolf. Long ago, warlocks and werewolves fought endlessly, until a forbidden love between the two created the first hybrids. To keep their bloodline pure, they married among themselves, gaining power to maintain balance between werewolves, sorcerers, and vampires."
Berry frowned. "Do they still exist?"
Mr. Tristan hesitated. "No one knows for sure. Some say they still protect the balance. Others think they faded into myths."
Lilly's heart pounded. She had so many questions, but she was too timid to ask them in front of the class. She made a decision.
---
A Name That Shouldn’t Be Known
After class, Lilly hurried after Mr. Tristan.
"Excuse me, Mr. Tristan?"
He stopped, adjusting his bag. "Yes, Lilly?"
She hesitated before asking, "The woman who was killed… what was her name?"
Mr. Tristan’s face shifted, as if he was debating whether to answer. Then, finally, he spoke.
"Her name was Lilly."
Lilly’s breath caught. "What?"
Mr. Tristan studied her carefully. "Why do you ask?"
She swallowed. "My uncle told me a story about her… but he refused to give me details."
Mr. Tristan sighed. "There are secrets about her that many refuse to share. Even most history books won’t reveal everything."
Lilly's mind was spinning. "How do I find out more?"
He smiled slightly. "Dig. The truth is buried, but if you’re willing to search, you might just find it."
---
Back in class, Peter leaned toward Chanson.
"Did you see how Mr. Tristan was talking to the new girl?"
Chanson smirked. "Yeah. What about it?"
Peter narrowed his eyes. "That wasn’t normal. He seemed… interested. Almost like he knew something about her."
Chanson shrugged. "Maybe he does."
Peter tapped his fingers against his desk. "Something’s weird about her. And I’m going to find out what."
Meanwhile, Lilly sat at her desk, her mind racing.
A woman named Lilly. A forbidden history. Secrets buried deep.
Something inside her whispered that she was meant to uncover the truth.
