The Master Psychic

Sage jolted upright, her chest heaving, the sheets clinging damp to her skin. The silence of her room pressed heavily against her ears, broken only by the ragged rush of her own breath. Sweat dripped down her temple, stinging as it traced the curve of her cheek. The dream still clung to her, vivid and raw—two silver eyes floating in the darkness, watching her. Not just looking. Hunting. They had followed her through twisting shadows, unblinking, patient, as if waiting for her to falter. Even awake, she swore she could still feel their gaze burning holes into her. Her fingers fumbled for the lamp on her nightstand, desperate for light, for proof that the creature in her visions was only a dream. The bulb flared to life, flooding the room in a warm glow. Empty corners, familiar walls, nothing but stillness. Yet the unease remained, a shiver rolling down her spine. Sage pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She knew better than to dismiss it. Her visions were never just dreams. And those silver eyes... they were only the beginning A soft knock broke through the silence, followed by the creak of the door easing open. "Sage?" Harper's voice was low, careful, like she didn't want to startle her. Sage blinked against the sudden spill of hallway light as Harper slipped inside. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy braid, her expression somewhere between concern and hesitation. "I heard you breathing... heavy," Harper said, lingering near the doorframe. "Like you were—running or something." Sage swallowed hard, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as if it could shield her from the memory of those silver eyes. "It was just a dream," she murmured, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. Harper's gaze softened, and after a moment she crossed the room, sitting gently at the edge of the bed. "Nightmare?" Sage nodded. She wanted to brush it off, but the truth weighed too heavily on her chest. "It didn't feel like just a nightmare." Harper tilted her head, studying her. "You mean... one of your visions?" The word hung in the air, heavier than either of them wanted it to be. Sage's throat tightened. She hated how easily Harper could see through her, how quickly she cut through Sage's defenses. "I don't know," Sage whispered. "But it felt real. Too real." Harper reached out, hesitated for a beat, then rested her hand lightly over Sage's. "Then whatever it is... you're not alone, okay?" For the first time since waking, Sage's breathing slowed. The shadows in the corners of the room still felt alive, but with Harper sitting beside her, they seemed just a little less close. Harper stretched out beside her without asking, settling on top of the covers. The mattress dipped under her weight, and Sage instinctively shifted closer, drawn to the quiet steadiness of her presence. For a long while, they lay in silence, listening to the hum of the night—Harper's breathing evening out, Sage's finally slowing to match. The shadows no longer pressed so heavily on the corners of the room. Wrapped in that fragile calm, Sage's eyes fluttered shut. Within minutes, the fear of silver eyes melted into the quiet safety of shared warmth. Sleep claimed her once again. An hour later, the door creaked open. Mason stepped inside, his tall frame backlit by the glow of the hallway. His gaze softened at the sight of the two girls asleep, Sage curled small, Harper protectively close. For a moment, he just stood there, torn between amusement and tenderness. Carefully, he moved to Harper's side. She stirred faintly as he slid his arms under her, but didn't wake. Mason lifted her with practiced ease, cradling her against his chest. Sage barely stirred, lost in her restless dreams. Mason glanced at his sister one last time, brushing a hand gently against her blanket to tuck it closer around her. Then, without a word, he carried Harper out of the room and back to their bed. The door clicked softly shut, leaving Sage alone again with the quiet and the dark. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee drifted through the kitchen, sunlight spilling in across the counters. Harper stood at the stove, humming softly to herself as she flipped eggs in the pan. Her braid had loosened overnight, strands of hair falling into her face, but she didn't seem to mind. Footsteps padded into the room, and Mason appeared in the doorway, still tugging a T-shirt over his head. He paused, watching her for a moment before crossing the room. "Smells amazing," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep. Without hesitation, he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. Harper smiled, the corners of her mouth curling upward as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Morning to you, too," she teased, nudging him gently with her shoulder. He leaned against the counter, snagging a strip of bacon from the plate she'd already finished. "You didn't have to get up and play chef." "I couldn't sleep very well after last night," Harper admitted lightly, though her thoughts flickered back to Sage's heavy breathing, her trembling voice. She quickly masked it with a shrug. "Figured I'd do something useful." Mason studied her for a second longer than necessary, but then he grinned and reached for a mug. "Well, I'm not complaining. You're spoiling us." As Harper plated the food, she cast a quick glance toward the hallway. Part of her was waiting, listening, hoping Sage would come down soon—hoping that the light of morning had chased away whatever shadows haunted her the night before. Sage padded into the kitchen, still in her sleep shirt, her hair a tumble of dark waves that hadn't quite decided if they wanted to behave. She rubbed the last of sleep from her eyes, blinking against the brightness of the morning sun. "Something smells good," she mumbled, sliding into a chair at the table. "Breakfast à la Harper," Mason said with a grin, setting a plate in front of her. "Don't get used to it. She's trying to show me up." Harper smirked over her shoulder from the stove. "Please. If I left meals to you, you'd have Sage living off cereal and burnt toast." Sage cracked a small smile, grateful for the easy banter. The heaviness of the night before still clung to her, but the warm smells and familiar voices softened the edges. She picked up her fork and took a bite, then looked between the two of them. "So..." she started, hesitant at first. "What's the plan for today?" Mason leaned against the counter, mug in hand. "I was thinking of running into town, maybe grabbing some groceries, and checking out that bookstore by the square. You want to come?" Harper turned, her expression bright. "It might be good for you to get out for a bit." Sage glanced down at her plate, considering. The memory of silver eyes still lingered at the back of her mind, but sitting here, sunlight pouring in and Harper's cooking filling her stomach, it felt almost possible to push it away. "Yeah," Sage said finally, her voice steadier than she felt. "I think I'd like that." After breakfast, Sage retreated to her room to get ready. She stood before the mirror, tugging a brush through her hair until it fell in loose waves over her shoulders. The reflection staring back at her looked calm enough, but she could still feel the weight of last night pressing at the edges of her mind. She shook it off and slipped into jeans and a soft sweater, tying her sneakers with quick, practiced knots. By the time she returned downstairs, Mason was jingling his keys by the door, already impatient. Harper, of course, was ready before either of them, her jacket zipped and a tote bag slung over her arm. "Finally," Mason teased, holding the door open. "I was starting to think you were backing out." Sage rolled her eyes but managed a smile. "You'd miss me too much if I did." Outside, the morning was bright, the air crisp enough to carry the scent of pine from the woods beyond the yard. They made their way to Mason's car—an old black Jeep that had seen better days but was still reliable. Harper slid into the passenger seat, and Sage climbed into the back, pulling the door shut with a hollow thunk. The engine rumbled to life, and soon they were winding down the familiar back roads that led into town. Sunlight flickered through the trees, casting shifting shadows across Sage's face. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the landscape blur past. For a moment, everything felt almost normal: Mason tapping the wheel in rhythm with the music on the radio, Harper humming along, her hand resting comfortably on Mason's arm. Sage let herself breathe into that normalcy, even as a chill prickled at the back of her neck—a whisper of silver eyes in the dark. She closed her eyes and told herself it was just leftover fear. Just a dream. But deep down, she knew better.