Whitelighter?
1032 Words
Thalia’s POV
The call ends, and silence presses in like fog.
I stare down at my desk, my fingers curling tightly around its edge as I try to steady my breath. Selene’s voice still rings in my ears, full of fear she tried too hard to hide.
Selene never faints. She never gets sick. She’s sensitive, yes—but grounded. This… this isn’t like her. And Mom and Dad? Disappearing for a few hours, a day maybe—that used to be normal. But now? No texts. No calls. Nothing.
The air feels too still.
Something is wrong.
I grab my phone and text Amara.
Me:
“Just talked to Selene. We’re heading home.”
A few seconds pass before she replies.
Amara:
“Is Selene okay? I still haven’t heard from Mom or Dad.”
I hesitate.
I don’t want to worry her. Not yet. Not until I have something solid to tell her.
Me:
“She’s fine. Probably stress. You’re at school. Stay there until we figure things out.”
Three pulsing dots appear, then vanish.
She’s hesitating.
Amara:
“She probably doesn’t want to see me anyway.”
I roll my eyes and type back quickly.
Me:
“Oh, please. You two always argue. Just apologize already. She misses you too—you know she does.”
Amara:
“Okay… I’ll come after class.”
I feel a little weight lift. At least we’ll all be in one place.
I throw a few essentials into a weekender bag and sling it over my shoulder. Just as I’m heading for the door, my phone rings again.
Layton.
My pulse kicks up.
He never calls.
“Layton?”
“You need to come to the manor. Now,” he says, voice clipped and tense.
My grip tightens around the bag strap. “I’m already heading there. What’s going on?”
“You don’t understand,” he says. “Everything’s wrong, Thalia.”
Something in his tone makes my chest tighten. Calm, capable Layton—rattled. That never happens.
“How fast can you get here?”
“Maybe an hour? Less if I—”
“No. Not fast enough. I’m coming to get you.”
“What do you—”
The lights in the room flicker.
And then, they twist.
Tiny orbs of white light flicker into being, dancing mid-air like fireflies forming a pattern—no, a portal. They swirl faster and faster, then stretch outward in a glowing arc.
And through it steps Layton.
Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
My jaw drops.
“What the—what did you just do?”
He brushes imaginary dust from his shoulder. “Transported. Orbed, technically. I’m a Whitelighter.”
“A what?”
He gives me a crooked smile. “Think… guardian angel with teleportation privileges.”
I blink at him. “You’re joking.”
“Not even a little.”
There’s a long pause.
I cross my arms. “So what, you’re just casually glowing your way through magical wormholes now?”
His smile widens, just a little. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Unlikely.”
But the teasing edge in my voice fades as the weight of his expression returns.
“It’s your parents, Thalia,” he says, tone serious again. “They’re not just gone. They’re in trouble. And it’s not the kind you can explain away with another cover story.”
I shake my head. “No. No, they’ve disappeared before. They always come back.”
“This time is different.”
The silence that falls between us says more than either of us can.
“They’ve been taken,” he adds. “And not by anything from this world.”
⸻
Within seconds, the orbs swirl again.
The light envelops us.
And then—
We’re standing in my bedroom at the manor.
Sort of.
Because Layton is half sprawled on top of me, one arm braced beside my head to avoid crushing me. His chest rises and falls just inches from mine.
“I’m going to pretend that was part of the plan,” I mutter.
He laughs, deep and amused. “It’s not an exact science.”
“Clearly.”
I push him off and smooth my clothes, trying not to look flustered.
A knock interrupts us, and Layton’s smile vanishes.
“That’ll be Selene.”
He opens the door, and there she is—my sister, standing in the hallway with her curls pulled into a loose braid and tired eyes shadowed with something more than exhaustion.
She looks at me. I look at her.
And I just… move.
I pull her into a hug before I can even think. “You okay?”
She nods, but her voice is tight. “No. Not really.”
Neither am I.
⸻
Downstairs, the air inside Blackthorn Manor feels off.
The walls are the same—rich wood, ancient tapestries, the quiet hum of magic—but the energy? It’s heavy.
Like the house knows something is wrong.
We settle in the sitting room as Layton paces near the hearth, casting long shadows in the firelight.
“Call your grandmother,” he says quietly. “She needs to tell you the rest.”
I dial Nana, my hands trembling.
She answers on the second ring.
“Thalia?”
“Nana… it’s about Mom and Dad. They’re gone.”
There’s a pause.
And then: “Girls… there’s something I need to tell you.”
⸻
Selene and I sit across from each other, the warmth from the fire doing little to settle the cold twist of dread in my chest. I look over at Layton—our supposed “Whitelighter”—and Nana’s voice filters through the phone like a gust of wind from another world.
“Your parents are part of something older than any of you know,” she says. “The magical world… the one they protected, the one they swore to keep you out of—it’s real. And now it’s found you.”
My blood runs cold.
“I’m coming to you,” Nana adds. “It’s time I told you everything.”
- Writer
