Simon's mother eyed him as he snatched the car keys from the table by the front door.

"Where are you headed at this hour?" she asked.

"Ros and I are grabbing something to eat. We'll be back in a bit, but you don't have to wait up or anything," He forced a smile, trying to ease the tension hanging in the air.

She shifted on the couch, propping herself up on her knees and leaning over the back. Simon could tell there was more she wanted to say, so he lingered by the door, waiting.

"I'm sorry if bringing up your father earlier stirred up... anything you didn't want to deal with."

The car keys dug into Simon's palm as he clenched his fist. A sharp pain shot through his hand, but it was nothing compared to the tightness in his chest. He had no idea why thinking of his father filled him with so much anger. The man had left them ten years ago, yet Simon couldn't seem to let him go.

"It's fine. Really," he said, walking over to her and resting a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes, rimmed red and heavy with exhaustion, were a testament to her insane working hours. He didn't want to add to her troubles. "I let it get to me, I guess. I shouldn't, but... sometimes it just happens. I'll be okay."

Before she could respond, he kissed her forehead, then hurried out the door to where Ros, Andre, and Chang were waiting for him with an unconscious seven-year-old girl. The weight of everything that had happened slammed into him as soon as he stepped outside. He exhaled deeply, his knees wobbling as the strain of holding onto his power caught up with him. It was too much. He'd never used it this much in such a short amount of time.

The drive to the outskirts of the city felt endless, each minute dragging on longer than the last. Simon kept glancing in the rearview mirror, watching Ros still clutching the girl's limp body in his arms. The blue tinge on Ros' lips from the cold hadn't faded, even with the car heater blasting at full strength.

"That one," Andre said, pointing out a house near the end of a cul-de-sac.

Even without Andre's pointing, Simon was pretty sure he could find the place. Strings of bones dangled from the gutters, clattering lightly in the night breeze. Stones with strange markings were carefully laid out along both sides of the walkway leading to the front door. Some of the symbols Simon recognized—Norse runes and ancient Greek script—but others were completely foreign to him. Something about the place made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Before we go in, I need to welcome you," Andre said to Chang. The old man gave a nod of approval. "I welcome you into my home."

Simon half-expected something dramatic to happen—power surging from the house to pull the ghost inside. From the way Chang was looking around nervously, he had the same idea. But when nothing happened and Andre turned away, Chang spat to the side in annoyance and floated up alongside him.

At the front door, Andre paused, warning them to carefully step over the broom and the line of salt laid across the threshold. He added, almost as an afterthought, that they should let him know immediately if they found any broken salt lines or circles.

"Is your grandmother a witch, too?" Ros asked, crossing the threshold slowly.

Andre bit his lip, thinking for a moment before answering. "Not that I know of. She just likes to stay protected. You never know what might come your way. She's probably downstairs—said she'd be ready for us."

The interior of the house looked relatively normal, apart from the chest-high stacks of books in nearly all the unfurnished space. There were also the salt lines on the windows and the symbols etched into the wood of every entry. Simon decided it was best to keep an eye out for anything strange.

"Hey, Grandma! We're here!" Andre shouted, jumping down the stairs.

A sharp voice answered back, "Boy, I told you not to come into my house with all that racket. I know I raised you better than that!"

Where was old Ms. Laguerre? The kind grandmother that Andre had told them about? This woman was tall and curvy. He could see her figure even through the long white robe draped over her. Her face glistened without a single wrinkle on her beautiful ebony skin. Her regal presence filled the room.

She tapped neatly manicured nails against the wooden table in front of her. "Bring her here."

Ros made his way past the rows of tables lined with books, scrolls, and glass containers of various types, placing the girl in front of the woman.

Simon scanned the basement, if you could call it that. It stretched far beyond what should have been the backyard, with no windows in sight, giving it an eerie, cavernous feel. On every wall, sat wooden figures of men and women pointed directly at the center of the room. As if watching for something. His attention was drawn to one particular figure—a wild-haired man gripping a harpoon, ready to strike at something unseen below him. Next to him, a statue of a man with an oversized head bared his teeth, one hand clutching a club overhead and the other outstretched. There had to be thousands of these figures, each one more strange and unique than the last.

Ms. Laguerre silently moved around the room, pulling out a bag of tiny glass vials. She poured their contents over a thick, green leaf before pressing the leaf firmly against the unconscious girl's mouth, forcing the liquids down her throat. The girl didn't move—not even a twitch.

"What are you—" Chang started, but fell silent when Ms. Laguerre shot him a sharp, warning look. She pressed a finger to her lips and continued her work, unbothered by the interruption.

Then, she began to humming—a low, deep sound resonating from within her chest. The sound was almost hypnotic as she moved her hands over the girl's body. Green smoke spewed from her palms, lifting the child and coiling around her. The smoke wrapped itself around the girl, covering her entirely, and then solidified into what looked like a sarcophagus, molded to the shape of the tiny girl within.

"Well, now we wait," Ms. Laguerre said, wiping her hands on a cloth before gesturing to a set of stools nearby. "Please, take a seat."

Simon chose the stool closest to the girl. Andre's urgent tone had made it seem like the cleansing process was something drastic. This, while flashy, was quickly handled.

If he looked closely, he could see her chest rising and falling ever so slightly, each breath slow and shallow but present. He wasn't a praying man, but this seemed like one of those rare moments that called for it. Clasping his hands together, he bowed his head and silently begged for everything to turn out alright. He didn't know who he was praying to—maybe anyone who would listen—but he hoped someone, something, was out there.

Ms. Laguerre settled into a metal chair in front of them, her eyes sweeping the room. "Where to begin?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap. "I suppose the simplest thing would be to answer any questions you have."

Ms. Laguerre locked eyes with each of them in turn, her eyes deepening to a dark shade of green as she examined them. When her eyes finally landed on Simon, a strange sensation washed over him, like invisible fingers had brushed through his hair, lightly scratching the top of his scalp.

"I am a psychic, Mr. Rossini," she began, her voice smooth and deliberate, "not a witch. Yes, I can read minds, and no, you do not possess this ability." Her lips pressed into a tight line, as though she had anticipated Ros' disappointment. "I believe your ability to see spirits stems from a connection to a strong well of abundant psychic energy."

Her beautiful eyes honed in on Simon sharply. "Mr. Lux, it's a pleasure to finally cross paths with you."

"Lux?" Andre's voice cut through the tension. "Like Victor Lux? There's no way you're related to him! Man, I love that guy. He's awesome—well, for a fake psychic, I mean. My grandma told me he wasn't legit, but I still think he's cool. I didn't know you were loaded like that."

Simon's head throbbed. The last thing he needed was anyone finding out about his connection to that man. He'd been nothing more than a tool to that man and Simon would never give him the satisfaction of calling him dad.

"Yep." Simon muttered.

From the corner of the room, Chang, who had been silently admiring the statues along the wall, spun around, his eyes gleaming with amusement. The mischievous grin that spread across his face was enough to make Simon's stomach twist. The old phantom's raised eyebrow hinted that there would be a flurry of unwanted questions in Simon's near future.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Your father's a grifter?" Chang chuckled, his voice filled with delight. "Well, now it all makes sense. No wonder you have such a deep-seated mistrust of people." He floated closer, circling Andre's grandmother with an almost playful air. "I promise you, Simon, I'll never leave you, son."

Chang turned back to Ms. Laguerre, his curiosity now fully piqued. "You simply must tell me everything you know about this Victor Lux, madam."

Ms. Laguerre pointedly ignored Chang and raised an eyebrow at her grandson. "Simon is different. He is like us, Andre. In time, with the right training, he has the potential to be stronger than you."

Andre immediately sprang from his seat, his voice rising. "Okay, okay, but right now, who's stronger? Me, right? Is it still me?"

Chang tried to cut in again, "Ahem, excuse me. I'd like to discuss—"

Ms. Laguerre didn't even look at him this time, pushing him aside with a casual wave of her hand. Simon suddenly realized that bringing a ghost into the home of a powerful psychic probably wasn't the wisest decision. Chang, looking somewhat deflated, shrank back down beside Simon, his ghostly form now appearing only half the size of a normal human.

Simon straightened in his chair, waiting for Ms. Laguerre's response. Though grateful the conversation had shifted away from his connection to his father, he was already tired of Andre underestimating him. Even without formal training he'd fought and exorcized plenty of spirits, long before Chang ever came into the picture.

A tight smile tugged at the corners of Ms. Laguerre's mouth. "It would be easy to find out. There's a little test I can perform that works regardless of power type. It measures the strength of the espren within."

Simon and Ros exchanged confused glances, and Ms. Laguerre, noting their uncertainty, elaborated. "Espren is the energy that resides within every psychic—the force that allows us to do what we do."

She extended her hand, and a Russian nesting doll flew from a nearby table, landing gently in her palm. "All beings have a soul. That soul is constantly pulled in three directions—by the body, the mind, and the spirit."

Ms. Laguerre opened the nesting doll, revealing the smallest one inside: a little figure dressed in black and red. She arranged the dolls, placing the smallest one at the center and positioning the other three in a triangular pattern around it.

"Humans," she said, pointing to the central doll, "are an almost perfect balance of these three forces. Almost. They experience all three aspects of life, though only to a limited degree. The aspects are realms that feed energy into our world."

Ms. Laguerre shifted the center doll towards the one at the top of the triangle. "Psychics have a stronger connection to the mind." With a simple gesture, she knocked the center doll and the mind doll together without touching them. "When a soul is that close to one of these aspects, they clash and release energy."

"Espren?" Ros asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

Ms. Laguerre winked at him, smiling. "Exactly!" She rearranged the dolls, pulling the body doll away from the others and positioning the soul doll between the mind and spirit. "Spirits, on the other hand, are pulled tightly between two aspects. They no longer have a body. All that's left of them is their soul, their mind, and their spirit—or life energy, as some call it."

With another wave of her hand, the dolls slid back into place. "The test measures how much espren your soul produces based on its proximity to the mind. All I have to do is give your brains a little push."

Ms. Laguerre's enthusiasm made Simon nearly forget to consider the implications of what she was saying. How much of a "push" were they talking about? Andre, seemingly unfazed, stepped up to his grandmother, cracking his knuckles and grinning.

"I'm ready for whatever you got," he said.

Ms. Laguerre pressed two fingers to Andre's forehead, and a glowing green aura, like fire, spread from her hand. It traveled down her arm, wrapping around Andre, engulfing him in flames.

"Now push back. Let your espren erupt from every pore of your body and force me back," the old woman instructed.

Andre's face tensed in concentration, and soon enough, a deep crimson fire ignited at his feet. It crept upward, consuming him as he growled with determination. His fists clenched tighter as his growls turned to roars, louder and louder, as he fought to repel his grandmother's overwhelming energy. The red flames continued to rise, pushing back the green aura until it was at his chest.

"That's good enough," Ms. Laguerre said calmly.

"No, I can handle more!" Andre protested, his voice strained. His legs quivered beneath him, but his red flames surged higher, fighting to gain more ground. For a brief second, it seemed like he could push further—before he collapsed to the ground. The green fire pinned him down, locking him in place, as he struggled even to lift his head.

"I said, that's good enough." Ms. Laguerre's voice was firm now and with her free hand she gestured to Simon. "Your turn."

Chang slapped him on the shoulder. "You've got this, kid. Remember what I taught you about the clothes, right? Do that again, but this time, picture that golden armor I used to kick your ass."

Simon scoffed, shrugging off the old man. "Get off my back already. And you better not interfere."

"Oooh. A competitive side, huh? That's what makes you move?" Chang's voice taunted him.

Simon stood next to a still-recovering Andre, trying to steady his nerves as Ms. Laguerre raised her hand toward him. His gut churned, and instinctively, he spread his stance—feet shoulder-width apart, fists clenched. He pictured the sharp golden boots around his feet and the massive, otherworldly armor enveloping his body. It was far too big for any regular human, just as he'd imagined it as a child.

The moment her fingers brushed his forehead, Simon's arms went limp, dropping uselessly to his sides. It was as if the weight of the world had suddenly tripled, pressing him down into the ground. His eyelids squeezed shut as he fought to maintain the mental image of the golden armor that had become his only defense. Green flames spread over him, but they didn't burn. His skin remained unscathed, his clothes untouched. Even so, he could sense the crushing intensity of Ms. Laguerre's power—it was a force that would destroy him if he fought back for too long.

But Simon wasn't planning on breaking. Slowly, he began to rebuild himself, his imagined armor growing more real around him. The green flames receded—quickly, much faster than they had with Andre. Tightening his right fist, Simon envisioned a massive sword materializing, gleaming in the golden light of his armor. Once again, the green fire retreated.

"Come on, kid! Fight hard!" Chang's voice rang out from behind him. "Show them who the world's best pupil really is!"

Ms. Laguerre's hand pressed harder into Simon's forehead, her strength increasing, but he held his ground. Taking a step forward, Simon opened his eyes and focused entirely on her. She pushed again, trying to overpower him, but he inhaled deeply and then, in one sudden motion, exhaled and pushed back.

A golden aura erupted from within him, radiating outward and pushing the green fire back in a bright, blinding surge. The flames retreated completely, curling away from his body and rushing back toward Ms. Laguerre.

Simon's light only intensified. He pushed once more, and his aura expanded, engulfing and snuffing out Ms. Laguerre's own energy.

Ms. Laguerre blinked, her expression shifting from confidence to confusion. Before she had a chance to react, Simon's light burst forward, slamming her against the wall. The entire room shook violently. The statues on the walls rattled, but none fell.

Ms. Laguerre, despite being thrown back, floated gracefully to her feet. A look of utter bewilderment crossed her smooth, youthful face.

Just then, a loud crack echoed across the room. Simon's head snapped toward the sound. The green coffin floating on the long wooden table was splitting open. Energy leaked out from the cracks, filling the space with an eerie, unnatural green light.

What did I do? Simon's heart pounded, realization hitting him as the coffin continued to break open.