The past few hours had been a blur of disarray. Time had folded in on itself, stretching and compressing as the surreal reality of their situation clawed its way into focus.
The thought struck Lily again as she glanced sideways at Ariella. The woman stood in the hallway, her posture rigid with an unspoken tension, and Lily caught a faint whiff of earth and sweat. They were both overdue for a shower, but Ariella’s travel-worn state made it clear the newcomer needed the luxury far more than she did.
She had seen Terra briefly as she and Ryan came back from speaking to Goose Payne at City Hall, but her roommate’s usual spark seemed dulled under the weight of something unspoken. Terra had needed air—said she’d go for a walk—but Lily hadn’t pressed, her attention split between immediate needs and a nagging voice in the back of her mind.
Inviting a stranger—one from another world—into her home went against every grain of common sense she’d inherited from years of raising herself. Yet here they were. And to Lily’s surprise, Ariella looked just as uneasy about the arrangement.
“This is it,” Lily said, stepping aside to let Ariella enter the apartment first.
It was almost unsettling how ordinary the space looked, as if the walls themselves were defying the cataclysm that had engulfed their lives. The power was out, but natural light from the early morning spilled in, touching the edges of a modest kitchen and living room. She looked at the analog clock on the wall. It was six in the morning. But the sun has already been up for hours, suggesting it was closer to nine. She briefly wondered if she should change the clock.
Ariella lingered by the door, her gaze sweeping over the room with a detached wariness.
“It’s... small,” she remarked softly.
Lily let out a dry laugh, stepping into the kitchen. “Welcome to Ladysmith. Not exactly palatial, but it’s home.” She hesitated, flicking the tap. Water poured freely, though cool to the touch. Relief fluttered in her chest. “At least the reservoir’s still working. Hot water’s out, but this’ll do until the backup generators give out.”
Ariella nodded absently, her fingers brushing the jagged scar along her left forearm. “This building… it’s made from timber, yet its size… it endures?”
“Yeah, well,” Lily said, handing her a clean towel. “You’d be surprised how good we are at building houses of cards.” She paused, a thought striking her. “Wait—do you even know what indoor plumbing is?”
Ariella raised an eyebrow. “There are public baths with running water. Hydromancers and Pyromancers work together to create systems of pressure and heat. Complicated, but functional.”
“So like, water magic and fire magic? Isn’t that a little like cats and dogs?”
Ariella tilted her head. “I don’t follow.”
“Never mind. Tell you what, I’ll start the bath. I’m not sure if we’re going to have hot water, but better that than… well…”
Ariella smiled. “Thank you. So where is the bath?”
Lily grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen drawer and flicked it on, motioning for Ariella to follow her down the hallway. She noticed Ariella eyeing the flashlight with quiet curiosity but chose not to comment. Everything here was alien to her—flashlights, cars, generators. Even the concept of plumbing. Back in Ariella’s world, such conveniences seemed possible only through magic, yet here, they existed without it. Lily could only imagine the questions swirling in her head.
Reaching the bathroom, Lily instinctively flipped the light switch, only to remember the power was out. She chuckled softly at her mistake and stepped aside. “It’s in here.”
Ariella peered into the small, tiled space, her expression skeptical. “This is your bathing room?”
“Yeah, small, but it works.” Lily leaned over and turned on the faucet. The sudden rush of water startled Ariella, making her flinch. She hesitated before extending her hand under the stream, her eyes widening as she felt the warmth.
“It is… warm. And this is done without mantles?”
“Yep, just science.”
Ariella’s gaze flicked toward Lily. “And everyone in your world has this? Even the poor and destitute?”
“That’s… complicated,” Lily said, leaning against the counter. “In places like Canada, there are shelters where people can get hot showers and meals, but there are parts of the world where clean water is still a luxury, let alone hot water. It’s not as equal as it might seem.”
Ariella nodded, her hand still under the stream. “Even so, it amazes me. To heat water, funnel it into buildings of timber, to have your machines whisk you away like brightstriders, and to do it all without currents. How?”
“That’s a long answer,” Lily said, smiling. “I just trust it works. It’s technology.”
“Tech-knowledge?” Ariella repeated, testing the word. “Without magic, you were forced to master these things through sheer will. Was this knowledge given to you by your gods?”
Lily almost laughed. “That’s another complicated question. Some people think so. Others think we figured it out ourselves. And then there’s the ancient alien crowd who believe they taught us how to build pyramids and grow crops.”
“What do you believe?”
The question gave Lily pause. “I… don’t really know. My parents came from different backgrounds. My dad’s family was from Denmark—far from Ladysmith, back when it was still on Earth. My mom was Coast Salish, from this land, and her people believed knowledge was a gift from the Changers—the beings they believe created our world.” She sighed. “My dad’s side thought we discovered it all on our own.”
“You speak of them as though they are gone,” Ariella observed.
“My dad died when I was young. My mom… she’s alive, but she’s not herself anymore. Her mind…” Lily hesitated. “She’s a stranger wearing my mom’s face. I made my peace with it years ago.”
Ariella’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s okay,” Lily said. “She’s somewhere back on Earth, and honestly, it’s a relief knowing she won’t pop up here.”
“I lost my mother last year,” Ariella said quietly. “And my brother… he’s changed. I’m afraid of seeing him, knowing he cannot return to who he was.”
“Two peas in a pod, then,” Lily said with a faint smile.
“Peas?”
“Never mind.” Lily turned off the faucet, noticing the tub was nearly full. “Bath’s ready. I’ll grab us some food. It won’t be hot, but—” She paused, an idea forming. “I’ve got some music on my phone. Spotify’s down, but I saved tracks for times like these. I don’t know what music is like in your world, but I get the sense that good music is universal.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “It’s—”
A crackling jolt surged through her hand as she pressed her finger to the screen. The phone flew from her grasp, embedding itself with a sharp thunk into the drywall. Sparks danced from the shattered casing as the room plunged into a tense silence.
“What the hell—” Lily started, but the words froze in her throat as a second arc of electricity snaked from her fingertips to the nearest light fixture. The bulb exploded, glass shards sprinkling the floor like glittering ash, causing Ariella to duck instinctually.
“Lily!” Ariella said sharply. “Stop!”
Lily’s chest heaved, her hands trembling as faint blue light crackled around her palms, like distant lightning seeking an anchor.
“I—I didn’t mean to,” she stammered, panic creeping into her voice. “What the hell is happening?”
“You must calm yourself,” Ariella said, her voice steady but firm. “It will react to your emotional state until you’ve learned to master it.” She stepped closer, her hands raised in a gesture of reassurance.
“Master what? What’s happening to me?”
“You’re manifesting your mantle,” Ariella said. “I had already suspected something of this nature might happen. If it’s happening to you, it will happen to more of your people.”
“Mantle?” Lily’s gaze snapped to Ariella, her pulse racing.
“Electromancy,” Ariella replied, her tone grim yet understanding. “The Broken Choir’s gift. Or curse, depending on how you wield it.”
Lily clenched her fists, trying to will the current away, but the air buzzed with residual energy, her anxiety feeding the glow. “I don’t like this,” she whispered.
Ariella stepped closer, reaching out cautiously. “You must breathe. Slowly, like this.” She demonstrated her movements, calm and deliberate. “When I was first touched by the currents, I lost control too. See this?” She held up her scarred forearm, the faint lines of an old wound illuminated by the light cast by the flashlight. “This was my reminder to respect it, not fear it.”
Lily followed her lead, inhaling shakily, then exhaling in a measured rhythm. Gradually, the crackling faded, the room settling back into stillness.
“That’s it,” Ariella said softly. “It’s not the mantle you should fear. It’s your doubt.”
Lily sagged into a heap on the floor, her hands trembling against her knees. “What the hell do I do now?”
Ariella knelt beside her, holding a steady gaze. “You learn,” she replied. “You are its master, but you are new to it. It usually sets in near the time of your first bleeding, but you are from a place where the currents couldn’t touch you. Here, it does. And it’s manifesting.” She paused. “It’s probably happening everywhere in Ladysmith right now.” She placed a tentative hand on Lily’s shoulder. “There, now. Just recognize how it feels. Hold up your palm, and push that feeling into it. Gently, though.”
Lily did as she asked, gently recognizing the cool sensation coursing through her body. She breathed slowly, feeling it coalesce in her stomach, and then guiding it up to her shoulder, and down her arm. She opened her eyes just in time to see short, quick arcs of electricity dance between her fingers.
“There,” Ariella said. “You have it. Remember that feeling. It is subservient to your will now, not the other way around.”
For the first time that day, Lily felt something anchor her amidst the chaos. It wasn’t certainty, but it was enough. She experimented with it, flaring it up in intensity, and then back down.
“This is… wild,” she said. She looked at her phone, still embedded in the wall, the screen and casing all but destroyed, then she looked to Ariella. “You said this is happening all over town right now?”
Ariella nodded. “It’s likely,” she said. “One in every fifty gains a mantle. Ryan had said there were eight thousand that live here.”
“That’s…” she quickly did the math in her head. “That’s a hundred and sixty people. Jesus, this is going to be a problem.”
----------------------------------------
The hum of tense conversation seeped through the thin walls of the emergency meeting room, fading into murmurs as Cale leaned against the hallway’s peeling paint. He traced a scuff on the linoleum floor with the toe of his boot, trying to focus on something, anything, other than the gnawing uncertainty that had been his constant companion since the Blacklight Event.
The door creaked open, and Sergeant Boone stepped out, his face set in a mask of frustration and fatigue. For a man who seemed unshakable most days, the deep furrows in his brow now spoke volumes.
“Committee’s decided,” Boone muttered, his voice low and gravelly as he glanced back toward the still-murmuring room. He pulled the door shut with a sharp click before turning to Cale. “And guess what? Yours truly’s been voluntold to be on it.”
Cale raised an eyebrow. “On it how? You mean...?”
“Security division, I guess,” Boone clarified, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Apparently, I’m the highest-ranking officer left on this side of whatever the hell happened to us.”
Cale let out a low whistle. “That’s... something.”
Boone’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah, something,” he echoed grimly. “I didn’t ask for this, but I can’t say I’m surprised. It was always gonna be someone, and apparently, that someone’s me.”
Cale nodded slowly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess the badge has its privileges.”
Boone snorted, his expression softening for a moment. “Privileges, sure. Let’s call it that.” He paused, then gestured for Cale to follow him. “Walk with me,” he said, pushing his way out the front door. There weren’t as many people now lingering in front of City Hall, and the usual hustle and bustle of the highway was absent. Cars still zipped from place to place, but they moved with purpose and cause.
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As they walked toward Cale’s cruiser, Boone listed off the names that had been chosen for the committee. “Goose Payne was unanimous. No surprises there—they made him the chair. Eleanor Beale, that professor from VIU, she’s sharp. Elena Varga, the doc over at the Acute Care Centre. Then there’s Jimmy Coombs—” Boone’s voice dipped into a growl. “Can’t stand that guy, but he knows machines better than anyone. Maggie from the Stz’uminus Nation, an elder. Markus Flynn, he’s an engineer. A veteran too, so he’s on the security team with me. And Rupert Singh, he runs that big farm out by the airport.”
Cale whistled again, slower this time. “Hell of a team.”
Boone nodded but didn’t respond immediately. His footsteps slowed, and when he turned to face Cale, his expression had hardened. “Something heavy’s coming, Shephard. Something big.”
Cale felt the words settle over him like a weighted blanket, suffocating and impossible to shrug off. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s a military force somewhere south of us,” Boone said bluntly. “Hostile. We don’t know how close they are, but we’ve been warned to bolster our defenses. This... committee? It’s not just about making plans. It’s about survival.”
The air seemed to thicken, the warm morning air grew colder as Boone continued.
“And that’s not the half of it,” Boone added. “We’re about to make a public statement, but there’s another piece we need to act on first.” He fixed Cale with a steely gaze. “We’re sending a team north. There’s a kingdom—or whatever they call it—up there, and we need to try to make a deal with them. Supplies, reinforcements, anything we can get.”
“Do we know who’s on that team?”
“Yeah,” Boone said. “Ryan Stills and Terra Murphy.”
Cale blinked. “Wait. The guy in the band and that goth girl?”
“Stills is a smart kid. He’s got the gift of gab and he’s got some experience at business negotiation.”
“Yeah, but so do like a hundred other people who are better suited for—”
“I agree with you, Shephard,” Boone said, “But we’re also going to need a lot of those people here. At least he’s young and fit enough to make the trip.”
“Fine, but the goth girl? Make that make sense.”
“There’s—” He paused. “It’s complicated,” Boone said, his tone brooking no argument.
“Complicated? That’s the best you’ve got?”
Boone sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, you’ll understand soon enough. But this isn’t a time for twenty questions, Shephard.”
Cale’s frown deepened. “Okay, so who else is going?”
For a moment, Boone said nothing, his jaw working as though he were chewing over his next words. Then he simply stared at Cale, his silence louder than anything he could have said.
Cale’s stomach dropped. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Shephard—”
“No,” Cale cut in, shaking his head. “I can’t just leave Ladysmith right now. What if something happens here? You said it yourself—things are about to get worse.”
“And that’s exactly why I need you on this mission,” Boone said, his voice rising, sharp with conviction. “You’re steady, reliable. I trust you more than anyone else for this job.”
The words hit Cale like a punch to the chest. Trust. It wasn’t a word he heard often these days, least of all from someone like Boone. For a moment, his thoughts wandered to his ex-wife, to the strained silences and arguments that had led to their split. Trust had been a casualty of their relationship long before it ended.
But this was different. Boone’s trust wasn’t a fragile thing—it was firm, unyielding. And that, perhaps, made it heavier.
Cale looked away, his jaw tightening. “You’re asking a lot, Boone.”
“I know,” Boone said quietly. “But this isn’t about what’s fair or easy. It’s about what’s necessary. Ryan and Terra are good, but they’re green. They need someone to anchor them out there. Someone who knows how to lead without panicking the second things go sideways.”
Cale let out a long breath, his hands resting on his hips as he stared down the empty hallway. The weight of responsibility pressed against him, relentless and unyielding.
“What if I screw it up?” he asked, the question barely audible.
“You won’t,” Boone said firmly. “I’ve seen you under pressure, Shephard. You don’t flinch. And if you do? You find a way through it.”
The knot in Cale’s stomach tightened, his doubts warring with the flicker of validation Boone’s words sparked. After a long pause, he finally nodded, though the movement felt more like a surrender than a decision.
“Fine,” he said, his voice low. “But if this goes south, you’re gonna owe me big time.”
Boone’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He clapped Cale on the shoulder, his grip firm. “Go home, get some rest. Start packing. We’re leaving first thing tomorrow. Time’s wasting.”
Cale watched as Boone walked away, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. For a long moment, he stood there, the weight of the decision settling over him like a storm cloud.
The words lingered in his mind, circling like vultures. Time’s wasting.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that it already had.
----------------------------------------
The marina smelled of salt and sawdust—familiar, grounding, and real in a way nothing else had been since the Blacklight swallowed Ladysmith. After leaving City Hall, Terra had told Ryan she needed time to think about the proposal. Instead, her feet had carried her across the highway and down the narrow street to the marina, her thoughts dulled by the weight of everything she couldn’t yet say. The faint creak of wooden boats against their moorings and the sharp cries of gulls drifted through the wind, a chorus of sounds that felt like home.
Murphy’s Marine & Salvage stood just above the high-tide line, its hand-painted sign still proud despite the years. The edges were worn, the blues and yellows faded, but it was unchanged—a constant in the chaos. Through the wide front window, Terra saw her father bent over a sawhorse, planing a board with steady, practiced hands. Nearby, her brothers, Jace and Wes, wrestled with a coil of rope, their muffled shouts and laughter filtering through the glass.
It looked normal. It felt normal.
For one more moment, the world hadn’t moved on without her.
She pushed the door open, the bell above it chiming brightly. The sound rang in her chest like a memory, years of after-school visits and summer afternoons rushing back all at once.
“Terra?”
Her mother’s voice cut through the sawdust and noise. Darcy Murphy rounded the corner from the storeroom, her eyes wide with disbelief. She dropped the box she was carrying, bolts of line scattering across the wooden floor as she rushed forward.
“Terra!”
Before Terra could react, her mother’s arms were around her, squeezing her so tightly she could barely breathe. Darcy smelled like soap and coffee, and her voice trembled as she held on. “We met Lily… she told us you’d gone with Ryan up the mountain! Terra, we thought—"
“I’m okay, Mom,” Terra said softly, returning the hug as guilt curled in her chest. She pulled back slightly, meeting her mother’s searching gaze. “I’m okay.”
Darcy touched Terra’s face with both hands, brushing a lock of dark hair back behind her ear. “You look half-starved. What’s happening out there?”
“I’ll explain,” Terra promised, glancing past her mother as her father stepped inside from the shop floor. Markus Murphy was a man of broad shoulders and a lined, weathered face, his hands perpetually calloused and flecked with grease. He wiped his palms on a rag as he approached, his brow furrowed.
“What’s up, kiddo?” Markus asked. The lightness in his tone betrayed his worry. “Your mom’s been pacing holes in the floor since we got here.”
Terra swallowed. “You’re not going to like this, but you need to hear it.”
Her family stood in a rough circle around the front counter as Terra explained. She told them about the Pactlands—about the strange, impossible lands beyond the limits of town and the war waiting on Ladysmith’s doorstep. She spoke of their displacement, the mountains, the strangers, and the magic.
The words came more easily than she thought they would, each piece snapping into place like planks in a boat’s hull.
Her father leaned back against the counter as she finished, crossing his arms. His expression was unreadable for a moment. “So, let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “We’ve been dropped into some… magic-infested world on the edge of a war? You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s not about believing it,” Terra said, meeting his gaze. “It’s about seeing it. You’ve seen the… moon, right? They call it the Azure Dream.”
Markus stared at her for a long beat. Then he sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Well, you’ve always had your mother’s knack for spinning a story,” he muttered. “But… I see it in your eyes, kiddo. You’re not lying.”
Terra exhaled, shoulders sagging in relief. “Thank you.”
Jace, now sitting cross-legged on a crate, piped up. “So, what happens now? We just wait? Is someone coming to get us back home?”
Terra hesitated. “No. I don’t think anyone’s coming. They’re probably just as confused back… home.” She paused. “But how would they even know we were still alive? Let alone on another world. And even if they did know, how would they even get here? That’s why…” She paused, her voice dropping. “That’s why I’ve been asked to go. With Nalya. To Halen.”
“What?” Her mother’s voice rose sharply.
Darcy stepped forward, her face pale. “You can’t be serious. Halen? Where even is that? You don’t belong out there, Terra.”
“Mom—”
“No.” Darcy’s voice cracked as she reached for Terra’s hand. “You’re staying here. With us, where it’s safe.”
“There’s nowhere safe, Mom,” Terra said, trying to keep her tone calm. “Not anymore. If I can help—if I can figure out what’s happening to us—how can I stay here and do nothing?”
“Because you’re my daughter,” Darcy replied, her eyes glistening. “And I won’t lose you.”
Markus cleared his throat softly. “Darcy.”
His voice was steady, a gentle counterweight to her mother’s fear. He turned to Terra, his gaze softer now. “You’re stubborn like your old man. You’re gonna do what you think is right, no matter what I say.”
Terra looked down, guilt creeping into her chest. “I don’t want to leave you guys.”
“I know,” Markus said. “You felt guilty moving into that apartment. Your mom didn’t want you to leave then, either. But sometimes, doing right means going where you’re needed. Not staying where you’re wanted.”
As if to punctuate his wisdom, Jace and Wes broke into an argument over the rope coil again, their voices carrying over the heavy silence that followed.
Terra turned toward them, her mouth opening to tell them to stop—but the room shifted.
The air thickened, like the weight of a storm about to break. Her lungs felt squeezed, the sounds of her brothers' shouting distorted and distant, as if underwater. A flicker of movement caught her eye—Jace, just beyond the rope coil, except... it wasn’t him. Not really.
Her brother hung there, suspended by the very rope he’d been playing with moments before. Limp. Pale. Lifeless.
No, no, no—
She couldn’t move. Her mother’s scream pierced the unnatural silence, sharp and raw. Terra turned to see her father stagger backward, a sword’s gleaming edge buried deep in his chest. His rifle slipped from his hands, clattering uselessly to the floor as blood spread like ink across the wooden planks. Beyond him, the charred form of Wes lay lifeless on the ground, the smell of electrified flesh filling her senses.
It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
Terra jolted, gasping for air. The room snapped back to its familiar state—the bright windows, the smell of sawdust and salt—but the vision left its mark. She was trembling, the echoes of her mother’s scream lingering in her ears.
Her family stared at her in stunned silence.
“Terra, what the hell just happened?” Markus asked, his voice steady but tight with alarm. He stepped closer, reaching for her shoulder. “Your eyes just went green.”
“My eyes are green,” she replied automatically, her voice thin, distracted.
Something felt wrong. The sharp sound of crackling reached her ears, and she looked to her brother. Jace wore a look of deep concern on his face, looking back at her. She looked down at his arms. Small flames were curling, impossibly bright, along the edges of Jace’s sleeves.
“Jace!”
“Fire! He’s on fire!” Markus bellowed, lunging forward with a kind of force Terra had never seen before. His rough hands clamped down on Jace’s arm, hauling him toward the open marina doors.
“Dad—what are you—”
The sound of Jace hitting the water rang out like a slap, followed by splashes and sputtering gasps. Terra rushed to the edge of the dock, panic clawing up her throat. Markus stood frozen, his hand clutched tightly to his chest, the skin already red and blistering.
“Jace!” Terra shouted, leaning over. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, what the hell?” Jace spat water, furious and confused. “I’m fine! Why did you throw me?”
“You were on fire!” Markus shouted back, his voice breaking under the strain.
Jace pulled himself up with Terra’s help, water streaming from his hair and shirt. She tugged him onto the dock, her hands immediately going to inspect his clothing. The shirt was charred and hardened at the edges, but…
She froze. Beneath the burned fabric, his skin was untouched.
“It didn’t… hurt you,” she whispered.
Jace stared at her, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”
Markus staggered closer, still cradling his hand. Darcy was there in an instant, taking one look and shouting over her shoulder. “Wes, get the First Aid kit!”
“Mom, I’m fine!” Jace insisted, pulling his shirt off and staring at it like it might hold answers. “It just got my clothes, that’s all.”
Darcy ran her hands over his arms, his shoulders, everywhere, her fingers trembling. “How is this possible?” she whispered. Her voice cracked as she looked back at Terra. “What’s happening?”
Terra took a deep breath, steadying herself. She knew. The realization hit her like ice water.
“Jace,” she said softly, “you—you were using magic.”
Jace blinked at her, disbelieving. “What? No, I—what?”
Terra glanced back at her parents. Markus’s face was pale, and he looked down at his blistered palm like it no longer belonged to him. Darcy turned to Terra, her eyes wide, frightened.
“No,” Darcy said firmly, shaking her head. “No. This can’t be happening.” She stepped forward, her hand trembling as she reached for Terra. “We need to get back to the house, all of us. You can’t be serious about—about going out there. We need to stay together. You belong here. With us. With your family. Where it’s safe.”
Terra swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at the edge of her resolve. “Mom, there’s nowhere safe. Don’t you see? It’s already happening.”
“But you don’t know what’s out there!” Darcy’s voice rose sharply. “You don’t know what you’re walking into.”
Terra’s throat tightened, the weight of her mother’s fear pulling at her. Her eyes darted to Markus. He was silent, watching her carefully, his brow drawn with something between understanding and grief.
“I know it’s dangerous,” Terra said softly. “But I can’t stay here. How could I? If I can help—if I can stop whatever’s coming—I have to go.”
“Terra—”
“Darcy.”
Markus’s voice cut through the room like a blade, steady and deliberate. He stepped up to stand beside his wife, laying his good hand gently on her shoulder.
“She’s got your stubborn streak, you know that,” he said quietly. “When Terra was little, she’d scrape her knees bloody learning to ride that old bike because she refused to give up. She’s like you. She’ll go where she thinks she’s needed.”
Darcy turned toward him, shaking her head. “She’s our daughter. How can you—”
“And she’s right,” Markus said simply, his gaze fixed on Terra. “This thing’s already here. It’s not a question of if she’ll leave—it’s when. Whether we like it or not.”
Terra met her father’s eyes, guilt tightening in her chest. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want any of this.”
“I know, kiddo.” Markus sighed, rubbing his jaw. “But sometimes doing right means going where you’re needed. Not staying where you’re wanted.”
The room fell silent except for the distant creak of boats and the water lapping against the dock.
Terra looked at Jace, now sitting on the dock, his soaked hair plastered to his face, confusion and fear written into every line of him. She thought of the fire. The vision. She wanted—needed to know what was happening to her.
It wasn’t a choice anymore.
She turned toward her family, her hands still trembling, her voice steady.
It was time to say goodbye to normal. “I have to go.”