Going home
915 Words
Chapter Two
Selene’s POV
The shrill scream of my alarm yanks me from sleep like a rope around my neck.
I shoot upright, heart hammering, breath shallow. My eyes dart across the room, searching the corners for… something. But it’s just me. The dim shape of my art desk. My easel by the window. Shadows, soft and familiar in the early dawn.
And yet my chest is tight. My hands tremble.
It was that dream again.
Only, it never feels like a dream. Not really.
Whispers. Ice trailing down my spine. A scream—sometimes mine, sometimes someone else’s—echoing from nowhere.
I rub at my temples, blinking away the cold sweat clinging to my skin.
Then I realize… I’m clutching it.
My necklace.
A silver crescent moon hanging from a delicate chain—one of three. Mom gave them to us when we were kids. Enchanted charms that glow when pressed in fear, linking the three of us like a thread across distance.
“You’ll always know I’m with you,” Mom had whispered the day she gave it to me. “No matter how far away we are.”
But this morning… it’s cold. Dark.
No glow.
I loosen my grip, forcing myself to breathe.
Just a dream, Selene.
Except it wasn’t.
⸻
The water in the shower scalds at first, and I let it. Let the heat bleed through the icy weight in my chest. Steam curls around me, fogging the mirror, clouding my thoughts. The rhythmic pulse of the water is grounding. Familiar. Normal.
Until it’s not.
It hits all at once.
A dizzying pull—like the ground has opened beneath me.
My knees buckle. The walls ripple like liquid. My heart races, then stops.
Pain shoots through my chest, sharp and blinding, like claws digging inward.
I can’t breathe.
“Mom—”
Her name claws its way out of my mouth right before the world goes black.
⸻
I come to in a rush of light, sound, and panic.
“Selene! Selene, open your eyes!”
Nini’s voice.
I blink, my vision swimming. Her face hovers above mine—wild curls, worried eyes, holding my hand like a lifeline.
“Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” she chokes. “Don’t ever do that again.”
My throat feels like sandpaper. “What happened?”
“You passed out. In the shower, Selene. I came back from getting coffee, and I heard the water still running. When you didn’t answer, I checked the bathroom and found you on the floor.” She shudders. “Half out of your towel, by the way.”
Despite everything, I groan. “Perfect. Naked and unconscious. That’s how I want to be remembered.”
But her face doesn’t crack into a smile. Not even a smirk.
“You scared me,” she says, softer now. “This isn’t just stress or dehydration. Something’s wrong. You need to call your family.”
I hesitate, staring at the charm still resting against my collarbone.
It should have glowed.
But it didn’t.
⸻
Back in my room, wrapped in my softest robe, I sit on the edge of my bed and scroll through my contacts.
Mom first.
Straight to voicemail.
I try Dad next.
No answer. No text. No call back.
My fingers tremble as I hover over Thalia’s name.
She answers on the first ring.
“Well, well,” she says, voice light but guarded. “Look who’s finally gracing us with a call.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “But this is important. I’ve been trying to reach Mom and Dad. They’re not answering. I—Thalia, something’s wrong.”
The smile in her voice fades immediately.
“You’re not the only one,” she says, tension slipping in. “Amara called me last night. She’s been trying, too. Layton went by the manor when he got back from his time off. They were gone. No note. No message.”
My breath catches. “That’s not like them.”
“I know,” she says. “I know.”
“I… something happened this morning. I passed out. In the shower.”
“What?! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine now. But before I collapsed… I felt something. Like a punch to the chest. I think it was them. I think—I felt them.”
There’s silence on the line. Not because she doesn’t believe me.
Because she does.
“Get home,” Thalia says. “Now.”
“I’m already packing.”
⸻
As I fold the last of my sketchbooks into my bag, I catch my reflection in the mirror.
There’s a look in my eyes I haven’t seen in a long time. Not fear exactly. Not panic.
Awakening.
⸻
We were never normal.
Not really.
We grew up in a manor filled with enchanted books and hidden doors. We were taught not just math and history, but spellcraft and energy balance. But our parents only ever let us brush against magic—like tasting frosting but never getting the cake.
Because there was always a line. One we were never allowed to cross.
But now they’re gone.
And that line?
It’s disappearing.
⸻
I pull my suitcase to the door. My fingers graze the necklace one more time.
Still dark.
Still cold.
But not for long.
Because I’m going home.
And this time?
I’m not walking away from the truth.
- Writer
