6
1278 Words
The silence that settled over the living room was as thick and suffocating as fog. Dust motes swirled lazily in the fading amber light filtering through the windows, but the weight in the room was anything but light. Tension crackled like a storm on the edge of breaking.
Evanna’s parents sat on opposite ends of the couch, their bodies tight with restraint, but their eyes betrayed panic. Her mother, Lia, wrung her hands until her knuckles paled, eyes flickering toward the front door as if expecting someone—or something—else to barge in.
“If Daas found us,” Lia whispered sharply, her voice trembling, “then the high elves won’t be far behind.”
Aaron shook his head, jaw clenched. “We don’t know that.”
“We do!” she snapped. “Daas has always followed him. He’s the harbinger, Aaron!”
Rowen, still sitting cross-legged on the floor near the cold fireplace, began to cry softly. Her face crumpled, overwhelmed by the strange atmosphere—by the fear, by the arguing, by the unfamiliar weight of secrets pressing in from all sides.
“Stop!” Evanna shouted, rising to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. “Both of you! Stop treating us like we’re five. Someone needs to tell me what the hell is going on. Right now.”
The words rang out like a gunshot, silencing everyone in the room. Her parents looked at her—truly looked at her—for the first time in days. Aaron exchanged a glance with Lia, who was already shaking her head. But he let out a slow sigh, the kind that sounded like surrender.
“She has a right to know,” he said quietly.
“If you tell her, there’s no turning back,” Lia warned, her voice laced with fear. “Not for her. Not for any of us.”
Aaron nodded solemnly, then turned to face Evanna. “We know you still have the book.”
Evanna’s breath hitched, her mouth parting in stunned silence. She instinctively looked away, but her father pressed on.
“We saw it when we were packing. You hid it under a floorboard in your old room, it was easy to find actually. You were never supposed to take it, but... I guess it’s good you did.” He gave a tired, grim smile.
Evanna's fingers curled into fists. “You mean the fairytale?”
“It’s not a story,” Aaron said. “It’s a memory. A truth written down so it could survive.”
Her heart thundered in her chest. “The Outlands... That was a real place?”
Aaron nodded. “Before the human world and the supernatural were combined, all of these lands were called the Outlands and you've been here before... in another life.”
Evanna staggered back a step. “You're lying.”
“No," he said sadly. "Think about how connected you feel to the book—think about how you've always felt different compared to me, Mom and Rowen. It's because you are different."
"Think about the men earlier—the delivery drivers. The way they reacted. That wasn’t just local superstition. They could feel the energy here. They’re right. Supernaturals exist. They’ve always existed. And that man who came earlier? Daas? He’s a werewolf.”
The name struck her like a bolt. She gasped, eyes widening. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest.
“Yes,” Aaron confirmed. “And he’s here to protect you.”
“From what?” she asked, her voice trembling.
"Not from what, but from who," Lia explained.
"OK then, from who?"
Before either one could answer, the front door exploded open with a bang so forceful the hinges screamed. A gust of wind roared through the house, curling around Evanna like icy fingers. A massive figure stepped inside, the floor creaking under his weight.
He was tall—well over six feet—and broad, his presence more beast than man. Dark, shoulder-length hair spilled around a face that looked carved from ancient stone, rugged and sharp. His eyes—glowing faintly gold—searched around the room like a predator sighting its long-lost prey.
“I asked for one thing,” he growled, his voice rough like gravel and low thunder. “To see the girl. And you’ve kept her from me.”
The moment Thorne's eyes met Evanna’s, he froze.
He was no longer in the tiny, dusty living room—but in a forest painted with moonlight, where laughter echoed and a girl with firelight in her hair danced in the shadows. Amariel. The name almost slipped from his lips, but he bit it back.
Evanna stared at him, transfixed, heart stammering in her chest. He was the most frightening, beautiful man she had ever seen. Massive. Wild. Untamable. Everything about him screamed not human. She could feel it—something primal in her blood answering a call she hadn’t even known was there.
Behind her, her parents argued, voices rising like a storm. Her mother’s was desperate, pleading. “Please, let her stay just one more night—she doesn’t know what’s going on.”
Thorne turned his gaze on them, unimpressed. “I’m not keeping wolves outside my den another night for a girl who should’ve never been hidden from me in the first place.”
“We’ll come with her,” Aaron snapped. “We’ll join your pack.”
Thorne crossed his arms. “You have three choices. Come with her and be sworn members. Stay here while she comes with me. Or take your chances fending off the high elves alone.”
Rowen sniffled. “Who are the high elves?”
Everyone turned to look at her, even Thorne. He knelt slightly to her sitting level, his voice dry and heavy with history. “They’re the self-proclaimed rulers of the old world. They started the war that tore the realms apart. The ones hunting your sister. And if they find her... they won’t just take her. They’ll take everything.”
He stood again, towering, and looked back to Evanna’s parents. “Decide. Now.”
A heavy silence followed. Lia’s face was pale, lined with old grief.
“Take her,” she whispered. “Give us time to think.”
“Mom?” Evanna’s voice broke, her betrayal clear.
“You’re out of line,” Aaron warned, but Evanna wasn’t even looking at him anymore.
Before she could protest, Thorne crossed the room in three strides. In one swift motion, he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. She yelped, kicking, but it was like fighting a mountain. He didn’t flinch.
“Put me down!” she shouted. “I swear I’ll scream!”
“Do it,” Thorne muttered, barely sparing her parents a glance as he turned toward the door. “The wolves will enjoy the entertainment.”
“Wait—stop!” Aaron called, moving forward.
But Thorne didn’t turn back.
Evanna’s fists pounded against his back. “You can’t just take me!”
“I can,” he said quietly, but firmly. “And I will.”
She went still at the words—not because of fear, but because of the way they vibrated with something else. Something older. Familiar. Something true.
Thorne’s jaw clenched, memories threatening to break through. The girl who’d once given her life to protect their world now thrashed against him, blind to the truth that burned behind his eyes.
He wouldn't let her die again.
Even if it meant she would hate him for now.
- Writer
