The doors to the outside were deadbolted and locked twice over, each one checked and rechecked, every window bore the weight of hastily constructed wooden shutters, thick and nailed deep into the frames, but rough as they were, they were sturdy enough to hold. Or so we hoped. Every last entryway leading to our living room was bolted down, now we could only pray that they would keep us safe if any creatures of the night decided to try breaking inside.

Just last week, when the windows were still bare, unguarded against the blackness outside, we learned exactly what was waiting in the night. An honest-to-God gremlin, hideous and twisted, burst through the glass. I remember the sight all too well: it was hunched and bony, a creature wrapped in patches of taut, sickly gray skin stretched over bones that seemed ready to burst through. A misshapen maw split its face, lips ragged and wet, teeth crooked and sharp, snapping in gleeful rage.

We were quick that night—Marcus, my brother, had the crossbow at the ready. When the thing leapt for him, he fired, and the bolt buried itself deep into the creature’s side. It screeched, a sound that scratched at the mind, high-pitched and wet, spewing dark, greasy blood across the wall.

Panicked by the loud screeching that broke the deep silence of the night — all I could think at that moment was to make it go quiet as soon as possible. I ran to it and before I could think of anything else I brought down my iron fire poker onto it, its body letting out a wet crunch with each swing. I swung, again and again, a high pitched yelp with each thump, until it finally crumpled, motionless, with one last twisted gasp.

Mom cleaned up the aftermath as good as she could. Even after she scrubbed the walls and floors, faint, greasy blotches remained, dark reminders of what had trespassed here. Each time I looked at the stains I shivered, the sound of breaking bones echoing in my mind.

Tonight, we waited, huddled on our mattresses in the warm light of a single flickering oil lamp, dreading the sounds we’d learned too well, wondering if tonight the scratching and clawing would come again.

“What do we have here today?” My mom took a peek inside the bags with the supermarket loot my brother brought inside.

“Let’s see…” Marcus pulled out multiple packs of various cereals, two cans of soup, and a big bag of apples. Looked like I was having a muesli with dried strawberries for dinner. I took it and eagerly started munching it, after the long day I had — the food felt like a blessing.

Before Theodore, my dad, got started with his cereal, he looked at Marcus and me and said, “Cutting it pretty close today, arriving right before sunset, you know Anne and I got pretty worried.”

“Sorry,” I said after swallowing,”You know we don’t want to linger outside as well. The padlock for the propane canister cage at the gas station was huge and we couldn’t find the keys. Had to use a blowtorch on it.” I returned to my meal.

Marcus spoke up now,”By the way, did you guys hear the announcement on the radio today?”

“Was there something interesting? I was outside in the garden for most of the day.”

I let Marcus tell them about the supply depot the military will be opening at St.Michael’s church.

Mom’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a small, surprised “o” as she turned to Dad. “Finally, something!” she breathed, the weight of exhaustion lifting just a little from her voice. “All those reports and promises, but I was starting to think they’d forgotten about us entirely out here. When will it be?”

“The day after tomorrow, so pretty soon.”

Dad leaned back, exhaling a slow breath as he processed this. “About time they did something,” he muttered, then looked toward the barred windows. “If they’re serious about holding the depot for a while, it means more than just supplies. Maybe this is part of a push to reclaim the area.”

Mom nodded quickly, her excitement bordering on relief. "Think about it—a real supply line, one where we’re not relying on what we get from the supermarket, or what’s in the garden. I can barely remember the last time we had any meat.”

I watched as a soft smile crept across her face, the first I’d seen in what felt like weeks. She turned back to her cereal, stirring it with a kind of reverence, as if she were already imagining the meals she’d cook with supplies we hadn’t had in ages.

"Even if it is temporary," Dad said slowly, as if savoring each word, "it’s something we can rely on. Just for a bit." He allowed himself a small, tight smile, the kind he rarely wore these days. “Hey, Max could bring some of those trinkets along for trade, maybe? Speaking of which, how is that crystal thing working out for you?”

He means the powdered essence crystal I started eating at Bryndrels suggestion. Shortly after we befriended it, the dryad showed us this tree where the crystals grew and let me take some. The dryad said doing so could help me attune to the essence of the world, whatever it meant by that.

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“Oh, that, I think it’s starting to work. I’ve begun to feel those auras Bryndrel was talking about, It’s faint, but definitely there. Like…” I struggled for the words, watching as the faintest shimmer appeared around the objects I had next to my mattress: an old pocket watch, a strange chunk of blue glass I’d picked up from one of the supermarket shelves, even the herbs Bryndrel had bundled together. Their auras seemed to pulse faintly, giving off this hazy glow that told me—somehow—what they were meant to do.”That blue crystal? It gives off this kind of… binding aura. Almost like it’s meant to hold things together, stabilize them.”

“So a magic glue rock?” Marcus said.”The rest of your things in the garage also have that aura thing?”

I nodded in confirmation, most of that stuff was apparently magical.

“Hell, maybe I should start eating that powder too.”

Mom glanced up from her cereal, eyebrows raised. "So, you’re saying you can now feel what objects want to do?” Her tone held a mix of fascination and that same guarded worry Dad had.

I scoffed. "It’s not like they’re talking to me, alright? It’s just this gut feeling—a vibe. It’s faint, but I’m telling you, it's there."

Mom and Dad exchanged a look, and for a moment, I thought they’d get concerned. But to my surprise, they didn’t. Mom just nodded, more serious than I’d expected. Guess it’s fine for me to continue exploring this magic.

The aura perception was faint now, a mere flicker, but if it could be honed… it was something, at least. Something I could do. Since the world has turned into some kind of fairy tale, maybe I could even become some kind of wizard? Or maybe an artificer? I couldn’t let such a chance pass me by.

Ever since things started getting worse, we brought all our mattresses here and we’d been sleeping together in the living room, it was the most fortified part of the house. At first, it felt strange, cramped, but now it was the only way any of us could feel safe enough to sleep.

After dinner, as everyone cleaned up the last traces of our meager meal, I found myself drifting toward the narrow slit between the boards on the window, peering into the night outside. The darkness beyond was dense, unnaturally still, like the blackness had weight to it, a silence that seemed to swallow sound. But tonight, it was worse—the shadow people were closer (yes, that is how we called them, since that’s what they looked like). I could barely make them out through the murk, vague figures hovering at the edge of the property line, their forms shifting like smoke caught in a sudden draft.

They drifted closer each night, just a few feet at a time. It wasn’t that bad at first, but now they were close enough that I could throw something at them and probably hit my target. They were patient—almost cruelly so, as if waiting for that one moment when we’d slip up, leave a window cracked, or let the door open a beat too long. Seeing them was just another reminder of how little separated our fragile home from whatever waited in the dark outside.

I left the window and turned back to the living room, trying to put the shadows out of my mind.

“Hey, I’ll take first watch tonight,” I said, grabbing my crossbow from where it rested against the wall, the warm wood reassuring in my hands. It might look scrappy, being homemade and all, but it had proved it’s worth.

Dad looked over at me, his eyes tired but grateful. “You sure? I can take it if you’re too tired.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m good. Besides,” I added, a small smirk creeping onto my face, “I think I might get some practice with these auras of mine. Figure I should get used to whatever I’m seeing.”

“Thanks, Max. Wake your dad when it’s his turn, alright?”

“Will do,” I replied, offering her a quick nod as they all laid down.

I didn’t want to worry them, but the trip in town today must have taken it’s toll on me, I didn’t think I could fall asleep anytime soon. I stationed myself by the far wall, the window in front of me on the other side of the room, my back safely pressed against the wall.

The silence of the house settled around me, and soon enough, I was alone with the heavy, hushed breaths of my family as they drifted into uneasy sleep. Alone now, with only the faint glimmers of aura and the silence of the room, I let myself slip into that strange awareness Bryndrel had hinted at, the one they told was supposed to pull me closer to their world. I was starting to believe that.

I relaxed my body, tuning in to the hum of magic from the objects next to my mattress, focusing as Bryndrel had advised. Bit by bit, the room shifted, the walls blurring slightly, the corners of the room turning even sharper, as the faint auras glowed around the objects, revealing glimpses of the essences within them. Each time I practiced, the sensation felt stronger, clearer.

My thoughts drifted back to the supermarket. That place had never felt right, even before I could sense magic. But now… now, with this growing awareness, it was like my skin crawled just thinking about it. I’d felt something there, something beyond just a lingering sense of decay or emptiness. Its aisles too long, the shelves casting shadows that seemed too deep. But now, with this faint perception stirring inside me, I understood it was more than just the emptiness that made the place feel so unnerving.

The aura around It had been overwhelming, thick and dense, like a space where something dead had been left to rot in the walls. There was a strange, cloying pressure to it, almost like an unseen force was lingering, twisted up in the metal of the shelves, the cracked tiles, and even the grimy fluorescent lights above.

Back to the present moment, I could sense more than the objects near my bed, the shadow people were out there, I could feel their presence pressing at the edges of my awareness, an unsteady energy that felt almost alive, like a thousand eyes staring from just beyond reach.

I blinked, the room around me returning to normal as my focus waned.

Time passed slowly as I sat, my back against the wall, crossbow close at hand. The house silent around me, the air thick with quiet as my family slept.

When the time finally came to wake Dad, I felt strange, like I’d slipped a little further into the strange world of magic. I leaned over to nudge him, and he blinked awake, giving me a grateful nod as he stretched, rubbing the stiffness from his shoulders.

"Anything unusual?” he asked in a low voice, voice rough with sleep.

I shook my head. “Just the usual. The shadows are still out there, watching.”

Dad sighed and stood up, stretching his arms. “Well, get some rest.”

And so I did, laying down on my mattress, wrapped in the safety of my blanket. Soon enough, sleep took me.