No one spoke at first. Staring at one another making things more awkward. Ms. Holt was writing something in a notebook. Susan was upstairs watching a movie. Hopefully the whole fight didn’t ruin her chances at being loved by these people.

“So . . .” Victor began breaking the silence. “Arin went crazy and bashed the shapeshifters' skulls open with a hockey stick?”

“Be thankful. She protected your family,” Mr. Lightfoot exclaimed gratefully and Victor shrugged. The fireplace crackled giving off an eerie glow.

“Yeah but she almost got us killed! Those dogs are gonna kill us because of her!” Victor glared at her. Sweat beaded on her forehead. What was he talking about?

“Look, Victor, just admit that you’re scared and stop putting blame on this poor child!” Ms. Holt snapped slamming her notebook shut.

“I’m not scared! I’m just saying—”

“Do you want to be part of this meeting or not? You may be my son, but I could easily rescind your invite to my college. . .” their father threatened. Victor lowered his head, obeying his father.

“Anyways. Arin, we have decided to tell you everything since you’re now in the middle of all of this nonsense,” Ms. Holt explained.

Arin drew back, trying to calm down “Sorry.”

“Oh it’s fine! We were always targeted but now—we are just noticed more. I’ll probably get a promotion,” he smirked.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Mrs. Lightfoot asked walking into the living room.

“We’re good.” Their mother left. Arin’s throat tightened at the mention of water.

“So who are you being hunted by? What promotion could you get because of me? How was that a trap? What were those dogs? What is the Plaque? Am I—”

He held up his hand for silence. “All are wonderful questions. Who we are being hunted by and what secret organization are we part of? Well, we—Martha and I—are Watchers. The jobs you see are just acts. Who are we actually? We are part of a society that protects our world from universal evil and protects those with supernatural powers. It was slightly intentional for you to be pulled into this and I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

She hid her surprise, replacing it with sadness. Arin asked another question, trying to avoid the touchy subject of being intentionally dragged into a dangerous situation. “So you both are Watchers. What kind of name is that?”

“We are the eyes of the prophecy. Each Watcher has sworn to try to decipher this prophecy in hopes of protecting this world.”

“Philip, perhaps you tell her too much.”

“No. She must know. She is a Lightfoot now. Hunted by the Others. Guardian of the world.”

“Who are the Others? Were they those dogs?”

“Yes. Some Others can take any form they please. That man I arrested on Tuesday was an Other, I believe. He must have escaped by shape shifting. He is part of their army of monsters. Nearly invincible and a pain to keep secret. Their goal is to conquer the universe. However, the Plaque is supposedly a prophecy that states how the Others will fall. But it is in an unknown language. We only know the rudiments. The basics. We need to decipher it, but how . . .?”

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“I want to see it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Martha, she can’t possibly read it!”

“Yes, she can. I know it. The Plaque reacted earlier to her vision, so why do you think she can’t do it?”

“I guess you’re right.” He looked at the fire deep in thought. After a minute of thinking he sat up and nodded, “fine, she can see it. However not until tomorrow!”

“So be it.”

“Anyways. Arin. We, Watchers, must keep an eye on all that have supernatural powers, ones that have the chance of bringing peace. You may be one of them, but we are still uncertain.” He paused. “I think I covered everything.”

“No. You never mentioned where the Others are from.”

“Right, right. We have reason to believe that the Others aren’t from Earth. We dubbed their dimension Spirit World. The Others come from the continent called Fynne.”

“So they’re aliens?”

“Ha, no! They are humans that live somewhere else.”

“Why don’t they live with us?”

“They were different. They were outcasted by us and left to find a better home. Oh, but now they live with unimaginably amazing creatures! Sadly, the inhabitants are hungry for power. Thus, wars began. Not simple wars though, wars that can ruin both our world and their world. The current war that we are trying to end is called the Crimson War.”

“This is a lot to take in.”

“I know. It’s hard. This is all we know though. Tomorrow morning you can see the Plaque, I think this is a big enough discovery for now.”

Mr. Lightfoot groaned, struggling to stand. Everyone else mimicked his actions. With a wave of his hand, he signaled that the meeting was over. While the “Watchers” made their way to the kitchen, Arin longed for some quiet time to think. Nothing that Mr. Lightfoot said could be true.

She shuffled right to her room, not wishing anyone goodnight. The only thing Arin desired was quiet time to think.

Once situated for bed the whole family seemed to come to say goodnight. Was this Other nonsense that bad? When the family left, covers draped over shoulders, she listened. The garage door opened under her and she released a deep breath. They must be looking at the Plaque. They must be preparing for tomorrow.

***

That night Arin had another vision, and this time she wouldn’t let it slip away. She needed answers. Everything was black again, an empty void. Arin knew that her eyes were open in this dream, but she couldn’t see anything.  

Then a light appeared in front of her. The familiar radiant red and white glow floated a few feet away from her. Intimidated by this spectral being, she backed away. The very familiar, and slightly annoying, voice stopped her.

“Please. Don’t be afraid. Please listen to my plea. If you are a human, then tell me who you are. If you can hear me tell me your name,” the voice begged.

Arin held her breath being as silent as possible. This was only a dream. It had to be. It can’t be possible for someone to communicate to her telepathically. She promised herself she would be brave, but this sudden confrontation scared her.

“Why don’t you speak? I know you can hear me. Please tell me who you are,” the voice repeated.

“I—I’m Arin.”

“Arin . . . if you can hear me then you can see me, but if you can’t hear me then you cannot see me. Therefore, you can help me,” the voice explained flustering Arin.

“What does that mean? I want to help but I don’t why you speak to me or who you are, therefore I can’t trust or help you,” Arin countered.

“Child, please. I can tell you what is going on if you help, why you were chased by those wolves—the Others,” the voice pressed on. Arin stopped, heart pounding against her chest. He did have her answers . . . “Now tell me who you are. One more time.”

“I’m Arin. I guess I can help, but I need answers first.” The light floated closer to her. Was it fascinated?

“Thank you, child. Tomorrow, I will answer all of your questions.” the voice began to fade, no longer echoing.

“Wait, who are you?” Arin shouted walking closer to the light.

“Soon enough you will find out, for now rest, Arin. I promise that we will continue this tomorrow.” the voice reassured and suddenly she jolted awake.