Ryleigh stood at the small bathroom sink, her toothbrush lazily working back and forth as she stared into the mirror. Her hazel eyes stared back—wider, more alert than usual. Beneath the sleepy puffiness, there was something steely. Something sure.
This was the day.
She spat, rinsed, and wiped her mouth with a towel, studying herself. There was no magic spark, no sudden transformation—but she could feel it. The invisible shift inside her. She was about to do something Margaret Blackthorn hadn’t seen coming.
And Ryleigh couldn't wait.
The house was quiet as expected. It was still early—just after sunrise. No footsteps echoed in the grand halls, no distant clangs of kitchenware or voices drifting through the stairwell. But she knew the others were awake. Working. Quiet little shadows who
