Sitting here at the edge of my bed, my feet planted on the worn floorboards, I let the quiet wrap around me. The room is dark except for the faint light spilling in from the streetlamp outside, casting soft, broken patterns on the wall. Whispering Pines sleeps, but I can’t. Not tonight.

My head is heavy, full of too many thoughts bumping into each other like fireflies trapped in a jar. My hands rest on my thighs, fingers twitching as if they’re waiting for something to do. Something to hold onto. Something to fix.

Raven’s words echo in my head, over and over like a haunting melody I can’t escape. “Your light magic... it’s part of the nexus. If the convergence collapses, you might not survive.”

Not survive.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my hair falling around my face like a curtain. My breath shudders, and I press my palms together as if I can hold the world steady by sheer will. It doesn’t work.

Because it’s not just my survival that’s on the line.

It’s the town. It’s them—Finn, Melody, Lucian, Raven, Grumps. It’s Nana. It’s everyone who’s ever called this place home, magical or not. All of it, somehow, tied to me.

I don’t know when I became this person. The one who stands in the center of everything, with people looking to her for answers, for leadership, for hope. There are days—most days—when it feels impossible, like I’m still just the girl who didn’t believe in any of this. The girl who wanted normal. The girl who thought a quiet life would be enough.

But now? Normal is a pipe dream. Quiet is a memory. And I can’t even tell when I stopped wanting them.

My hands glow faintly, a silvery shimmer slipping across my palms. The light feels warmer now than it did all those weeks ago, less like a stranger and more like an extension of me. It’s beautiful. Terrifying. Mine.

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I close my hands into fists, snuffing the glow out. It’s hard to explain why I do it, but it feels necessary, like if I let the light stay too long, it’ll show me something I’m not ready to see.

It’s funny. All this time, I’ve been trying to figure out who I am in all of this—what it means to be someone who carries this light, who stands against shadows, who fights for something she doesn’t always understand. But now? Now it feels like I’ve been asking the wrong question.

The real question is what I’m willing to give.

A shiver runs through me, and I wrap my arms around my middle, squeezing tight. What if Raven’s right? What if stopping the convergence means giving up more than I’m ready for? What if I have to choose between myself and the people I love?

My head falls back, hitting the wall behind me with a dull thud. I close my eyes, the words pressing at the edge of my thoughts like they’re daring me to say them out loud.

What if this is it?

What if this light wasn’t meant to save me? What if it was only meant to save them?

I open my eyes, staring up at the ceiling. The patterns from the streetlamp shift slightly, a faint breeze nudging the curtains. A deep breath in, a slow breath out. The knot in my chest loosens, just a little.

If that’s what it takes—if that’s what I have to do—then I’ll do it.

It’s not a decision made lightly. It’s not even a decision I want to make. But it’s the only one that makes sense.

Finn’s grin flashes in my mind, all teeth and mischief. Melody’s voice, singing in the chaos, trying to keep us grounded. Raven, sharp and steady, unraveling mysteries like it’s her second nature. Lucian, always there, always watching, with that quiet faith that scares me more than anything. Grumps, who pretends not to care but fights harder than any of us.

It’s them. It’s this place. It’s everything.

I’m still scared. Maybe I always will be. But fear doesn’t get to decide what I do next.

Pushing off the bed, I stand, my bare feet pressing into the cold wood. My hands stretch out in front of me, palms up, and the light comes easily this time, soft and steady. It doesn’t flicker or hesitate. It’s waiting.

“What’s mine to carry,” I whisper into the dark, the words anchoring me in a way nothing else can.

The light flares, brighter now, spilling across the room like it’s reaching for something beyond the walls. I let it.

Because no matter what happens next, no matter what I’m asked to give, this is mine. And for tonight, that’s enough.