Orryx Enchanted

Missing Parents

Amara’s POV

The phone rings three times before Thalia finally picks up.

“Hello?” Her voice is clipped and distracted, as if she’s juggling ten things at once. Typical. I can already picture her—sitting at her desk in Mom’s old office, heels off, sleeves rolled up, rifling through cosmetic product drafts or another boardroom memo.

“Hey, sis,” I say, pacing the length of my dorm room. “Have you talked to Mom or Dad lately?”

There’s a pause. I shift the phone to my other ear, chewing my bottom lip.

“I’ve been trying to reach them for three days now. Nothing. I even called the house line, which I haven’t done in forever. I wanted to ask them about this study abroad program I’m thinking of applying for, but… I don’t know. Something feels off.”

Another pause. Longer this time. I can almost hear her stiffen on the other end.

“I haven’t spoken to them either,” Thalia admits. There’s paper rustling in the background. “I texted Layton yesterday. He said he stopped by the manor. They weren’t there.”

I freeze. “What do you mean, ‘weren’t there’?”

“No note,” she says, voice flat. “No bags packed. Staff hasn’t seen them since the day before yesterday.”

The room seems colder suddenly, like someone cracked open a window I didn’t know was there. Outside, the low hum of campus life carries on—students laughing, doors slamming, music pulsing from a dorm two floors down—but none of it touches me.

“That’s not like them,” I whisper. “Not anymore.”

It’s true. Our parents were… mysterious. They came and went without explanation more times than I could count growing up. Sometimes days, sometimes weeks. But in the last few years, they’d been different. Grounded. More present.

At least, they tried to be.

“Look,” Thalia says, and I can hear her business mode kicking in, the one that made her the CEO of our mother’s beauty empire at twenty-five. “This might just be another one of their weird trips. They’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, but they always left something behind. A note, a voicemail, some half-assed excuse,” I say, moving toward the window. My fingers tremble as I brush the glass, cold biting into my skin. “This time it’s just… silence.”

I can’t explain it. This isn’t panic. It’s something deeper.

It’s dread.

Thalia must hear it in my voice, because hers softens. “I’ll get in touch with Layton again. Have him do another sweep of the property. Maybe they just needed space and forgot to check in.”

That’s not it.

Our mom, Aurora Blackthorn, was practically married to her phone. Dad, too. No way they’d both vanish at the same time without warning. Not unless something was very, very wrong.

“Okay,” I say quietly. “Let me know if you hear anything.”

“I will. Don’t worry too much, Amara. We’ll figure it out.”

I hang up and sit on the edge of my bed, the phone heavy in my hand. The silence in my room stretches like a shadow—unsettling and unfamiliar.

Something isn’t right.

And the worst part?

I can feel it.

Deep in my gut, in the place my magic stirs when danger is near, something is unraveling.

⸻

Flashback

I stare at the ceiling, the weight of memory pressing down on me like a storm.

Growing up, the Blackthorn house was never normal. Neither were we. Mom was elegance wrapped in mystery; Dad was fire hidden behind charm. They disappeared often, leaving behind only questions and the scent of lavender and sandalwood.

Thalia took it the hardest. She became the adult long before any of us were ready. Strong. Cold when she needed to be. The kind of sister who held it all together because no one else could.

Selene? She felt everything. I remember how she used to cry silently when Mom and Dad were gone. She always knew more than she let on—sensed things we couldn’t. Sometimes I’d catch her staring into the distance like she was watching a storm roll in no one else could see.

And me? I was the baby. The one they tried to protect from all of it. I asked too many questions. Never accepted vague answers. I wasn’t content with “Mom and Dad are away for work.”

Because I always knew it was a lie.

⸻

Magic runs in our blood. That’s no secret. Little things—flickers of it—peeked through even when we were kids.

I could move objects if I focused hard enough. Selene could read your entire emotional state just by touching your arm. Thalia… she could freeze time when she was angry. Or scared.

But there were rules. No big spells. No questions. No exploring the attic.

And definitely no touching the locked chest beneath the hearth.

That was our childhood.

And now they’re gone.

⸻

I glance back down at my phone.

No calls. No messages. Just silence.

I inhale deeply.

Whatever’s happening… it’s not something we can ignore anymore.

I have to go home.

To Blackthorn Manor.

Where the answers are waiting.

Even if I’m not ready for them.