Chapter 1: One Womb, One Grave

Every night Irina finds herself in a dark forest, surrounded by unnaturally colored fauna. Crimson Red, Blue, Orange, and Purple as far as the eye could see. Fauna with colors that shouldn’t be possible. Mushrooms of crimson dark red, black roses, and even unnatural eerie blue grass. Nothing about this realm makes any sense, as if it were twisting and bending reality itself. This dream, this unnatural realm always seems to worm itself into her subconscious.

Whether it’s a prophecy, or merely her own guilty emotions remains undecided. But she already knows the path she will, and must, take. Wooden chipped roadway lines the road in front of her.

The air is murky and foul, like a swamp, contradicting the supernatural beauty of the ethereal forest. She can smell moss and polluted water that feels like it burns her nostrils. She walks through the wooden pathway and can hear laughing, seeing the ever-shifting presence of shadows around her. Ever-looming. Just waiting for her to take the wrong step or let her guard down so they can pounce.

As she navigates the twisted path, the trees seem to close in around her, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands. She ducks and pushes vines and branches out of her way but no matter how much she navigates, there always seems to be more. The forest is alive, watching her, judging her. Her heart pounds in her chest, each beat echoing in the unnatural silence.

She has this dream hundreds and thousands of times. Despite minor details being different, slight variations of this irreality, the core of the dreams stays the same. However, this time is different. This time… there is a man in her dream.

Suddenly, a faint light flickers ahead, a ghostly glow amidst the dark trees. Irina hesitates, her instincts screaming to turn back, but something compels her to move forward. The light grows brighter, revealing a small clearing bathed in an ethereal glow.

In the center of the clearing stand...a woman? She doesn’t recognize her but something about her feels so familiar to Irina. A tall and handsome woman with broad shoulders, dark blonde hair and white colored eyes. Irina looks into her eyes and feels herself enchanted.

Her eyes tell of hunger, no rather, they demand it.

Her eyes feel like the death of winter, as if they absorb all the coldness from the air. Irina, despite her instincts telling her not to, steps towards the woman. Irina feels as if gravity lessens its restraint on her body as she approaches the woman.

The woman is tall and muscular, with tattoos of black ink lining her forearms. Symbols that Irina couldn’t even begin to recognize. Her skin is pale and shimmering with an otherworldly light. But none of it takes away from just how utterly terrifying her eyes are.

“Lost?” the woman asks, a smirk crossing her face. However, behind that playful smirk, Irina can sense emotions she can’t begin to understand. Is it sadness? Regret? Fear?

Irina wipes her eyes and shakes her head. “I know exactly where I’m meant to go.” she says. “But who are you? And why are you in my dream?”

The woman laughs. “Clever girl. My name is of little importance to you. Just know that I am a watcher, a messenger sent to witness the beginning of all things and the end of things.”

Irina stares at the woman dumbfounded. Her bright, cheerful, and infectious smile brings comfort to Irina, despite knowing what she must do and where this dream will lead her. “A watcher?”

The woman nods, “I witnessed the first birth, the first sunrise, the beginning of everything. And I will be here, at the end, to witness the last sunset. When the last living creature dies, and even the birth of a universe born anew. For this was the purpose of my birth. I am Azazel, the Watcher of the Morning.”

Irina tries to think of a response, something witty or clever to say, but her words evade her, all she can manage is a single question. “Why are you in my dream?”

Azazel fully focuses her gaze on Irina and for the first time Irina sees it. The sadness in her eyes, the tremble of her lips, the sad smile on her lips. “Because I have been assigned to give you a warning.”

Irina finds herself drawn to the woman.

“Two sisters, both shared one womb upon birth. And they will share one grave. However, this grave won’t be their end, rather a new rebirth.”

“I…I don’t get it.”

Azazel however isn’t interested in Irina’s confusion and continues. “You have untapped power. Left behind by your mothers. It is your birthright to unlock these powers. And if you don't…I'm afraid you won't be able to save Kiara.”

Her words chill Irina to her core. She…she doesn't know what to say.

“Seven wives, one mistress. If you are to save this world from premature death you are to find them. Irina.”

“None of this makes any sense. What power? What wives and mistresses? Please help me. How do I save Kiara?” Irina reaches to grab the woman’s arm but her hand passes right through her.

“Goodbye Irina. The choice is yours. You must remember who you are.” and then the woman blinks out of existence, leaving behind a single black feather.

Irina bends down and picks up the feather and then she realizes she has been crying. Why? She doesn’t understand. The encounter leaves Irina shaken, coldness returns to the world around her. But she is also strangely resolute. She continues down the path, the ghostly encounter fresh in her mind. The shadows around her seem to grow darker, the air heavier, as if the forest itself is aware of her resolve.

And then through the unnaturally dark trees, in this cursed forest, she can hear singing. A corrupt siren song. In other versions of this dream she tries to ignore this singing, to run in the opposite direction, to cut through the forest; but she always finds herself there, where she is meant to be.

She learned long ago not to run, so she doesn’t even bother. Learned helplessness, a therapist would say. She walks down the cracked and bristled brick road until she finally reaches the cabin. This wooden cabin, covered in moss with chipped paint. It is a run-down old brown and red pile of wood, and it is a miracle it is even still standing.

This cabin is a painful reminder to her of memories from so long ago. Her father used to take her here for “training”, back when he wanted her to toughen up or take her hunting. Back when her name was “Isaiah”.

Irina stands at the threshold of the cabin, the door creaking ominously as she pushes it open. The interior is bathed in an eerie, flickering light, casting long, grotesque shadows on the walls. The air is thick with the stench of decay and stale blood. Each step she takes feels like walking through a graveyard, her footsteps heavy with the weight of her past.

Her eyes are immediately drawn to the bodies scattered across the floor. Her adoptive parents, her sister Kiara, and her friends Rebekah, Dulio, and even Hana, from over a decade ago. They lie in a grotesque tableau of death. Their blood all mixed together into a pool of crimson red that appears as if it’s calling to her. Their lifeless eyes seem to follow her every move, accusing and unyielding.

All people she feels immense guilt towards. As if she played a hand in killing them.

Her adoptive parents, Mikael Kolson and Julia Kolson, are very religious people. She was never able to live up to their expectations and be the “boy” and later the “man” they want her to become.

Kiara, her sister who abandoned everything. Her chance at university, scholarships, and prestige to follow her little boy-girl brother when he got kicked out of the house.

Rebekah and Jason. Her high school friends, the people she promised to go to university with but that dream never happened.

And Hana. Her only friend at the orphanage, besides her sister Kiara. The one she had scared back then, leaving her scarred, most likely for life.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Irina whimpers to herself. She tries to scream but her voice gets caught in her throat. She takes a step back, a misstep into an uneven panel of wood and she goes crashing towards the ground. Pain jolts her body. You’re not supposed to feel pain in dreams. Right? But the pain feels so real, so familiar. Bitter, salty tears leaking from her eyes.

“Why…” Kiara, her eldest sister, chokes out. Irina can see a deep bloody slash on her throat. “Why?” she chokes out again, begging Irina for an answer.

Irina's heart pounds in her chest, a wild, desperate rhythm. She drops to her knees beside Kiara, her hands shaking as she reaches out to touch her sister's cold, lifeless face. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I should have been there for you."

The smell of blood and decay is overpowering, making her gag. She forces herself to look at each of their faces, her guilt consuming her. "This is my fault," she thinks, her mind a whirlpool of self-recrimination. "If I had been stronger, if I had been more like..."

‘This is a dream…this is only a dream.’ She tries to tell herself but her baser instincts take over and this all becomes too real for her.

She catches a glimpse of herself in a broken mirror on the wall. The reflection is not her own but that of Isaiah, with dark eyes and short hair. The sight sends a wave of nausea through her. "This isn't me," she mutters, tearing her gaze away. But the image lingers, a haunting reminder of a body that never felt right, a life that never fit.

The siren song grows louder, more insistent, as if mocking her. Irina watches as life leaks from her sister’s body. In other versions of this dream, Irina tried CPR, she tried covering the wound. But nothing worked. Nothing ever works. Irina voice tasting of guilt and regret. Her entire life is filled with regret. Regret that dragged her and her sister down their entire lives.

The siren singing stops, and she can hear laughing. She looks around, searching for the source, but finds only a twisted doppelganger of herself. Beautiful and dangerous in all the ways Irina finds herself lacking. The perfect figure and curves. Long Silvery white hair with a black mass of shadows following behind her horns, and sharp claws.

A being that exudes power and confidence.

The creature steps towards Irina, a sadistic grin on its face. "When will you accept, little Isaiah, that this is who we are? This is who we were meant to be."

Irina screams, the sound tearing from her throat as the bodies of her family and friends rise up, twisted and contorted like marionettes without strings. Their laughter fills the room, a cruel, mocking chorus. She cries, begs, and screams for all of this to stop, but they just keep laughing. Laughing at her. Laughing at the freak she was and still is.

Her sister Kiara thrusts a mirror in front of her face, and she sees herself as she used to be – a scared, angry boy trapped in a body that never felt like home. She feels the urge to rip her own skin apart, as tears leak from her eyes.

In the reflection she has black eyes, dark black hair, and horns protruding from her head. Her face is no longer her own, or rather, it was the face she had spent years trying to discard, starting from when she was 16. Her face before the hormones. Back when she had been an angry and scared boy-girl, trying so hard to claim her identity. To prove she was a woman. The reflection betrays how she feels as the reflection begins to laugh and mock at her, but she can feel cold tears going down her throat as the demonic version of her begins to pace towards her.

"Wake up to reality, little Isaiah," the doppelganger hisses. "This is who we are. You can’t escape me, so either just accept it or die."

The reflection in the mirror sneers at her, the black eyes and horns a stark contrast to the person she is trying to become. Irina feels her throat tighten, the weight of her guilt and dysphoria crushing her. "I am Irina," she whispers, her voice trembling but resolute. "I am Irina."

As the doppelganger lunges at her, Irina feels a sudden, searing pain in her throat. She gasps, her hands flying to the wound, but it’s too late. The world fades to black, her last thought a desperate plea for redemption.

𖤓

Irina feels a hand touch her arm and instinctively pulls away. She looks up to see her older sister standing over her, a look of concern on her face. Her sister is wearing a black t-shirt with an orange sun symbol and white shorts with a brown and black long sleeve kimono-like robe drapes over her body. In her left arm she is also holding her signature guitar.

The one she begged her adoptive parents to get her when she was thirteen.

Irina wipes tears from her eyes and she realizes she has been crying in her sleep again. “Another dream?” her sister asks her, looks of concern clearly written on her face.

Irina sniffs and nods as she uses the sleeve of her black and red flannel to wipe her face. “We’re up in one. I can ask for more time if-”

“No, No, I’m fine.” Irina says, doing her best to put a smile on her face despite the rock in her heart. “I’m ready.” She looks her outfit down once more, red and black flannel with a black t-shirt, black jeans, brown boots, and a crescent moon necklace, a memento from her time at the orphanage. The necklace possesses an intricate pattern of vines and leaves around the chain before it settles on the moon symbol which is obsidian black with a red glowing gemstone at the center.

Irina doesn’t even remember where she got it.

She just remembers waking up one morning and seeing it around her neck. She assumed Kiara had given it to her but when her older sister showed no knowledge of the necklace she believed it to be a gift from God. And so she wore it every day for good luck. Despite no longer believing in such a being, she still wears the necklace, the one good thing she has from the horrors she went through at the orphanage.

When people look at the two girls they can immediately tell they are sisters-but twins? Irina isn’t so sure about that. The only thing they share together are their two pairs of bright lively gold color eyes, but beyond that, they were worlds apart.

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Kiara possesses a beautiful, rich, sun-kiss brown complexion and beautiful curly black hair that makes her appear vibrant, healthy and full of life, while Irina's pale brown skin and stark white hair gives her a ghostly, almost sickly, look by comparison. Standing at 5 '10", Irina feels awkward and gangly, her limbs too long and ungraceful, while Kiara’s 5' 6" frame carries a natural gracefulness that every man and woman seem to always pick up on. Her natural hourglass shape, her curves and D-cup breasts are the epitome of feminine perfection in Irina’s eyes. Irina, on the other hand, is as scrawny as a spider, her body leaning toward a ballerina’s lithe figure—except for the stubborn body fat she despises, clinging to her in all the wrong places. And her barely-there B-cup only adds to her feelings of inadequacy.

Both girls had played some sports in high school however Irina believes that it has paid off more for her sister rather than herself. Where Kiara excelled at everything from cheerleading to basketball to softball and even lacrosse, Irina had always been the mediocre one, never quite good enough, barely earning any field time in soccer, the one sport she had a modicum of success at.

The thing she constantly frets over when it comes to her sister, especially when they were young, is the difference in their eyes. Both girls never met their biological parents but they can tell they are blaisan. Kiara, when they were young had tried to research their bio mom and bio dad but the best she could find was a last name, Ayyomi, the name they had been dropped at the orphanage under, by a woman.

But what gnaws at her the most, what has tormented her since they were young, are their eyes. Both African American-Japanese descent sisters have inherited their eye shapes from different parents. Irina, who takes after their Japanese parent, has large, round-shaped eyes that are slightly narrower and gently upturned, giving her a perpetual look of youth and innocence. She hates them. They make her feel childish, less mature—less womanly—compared to Kiara, whose larger, more prominent eyes, with a natural crease, give her a sophistication and poise that Irina feels she can never achieve.

This difference in their eye shapes as well as their figures has made Irina feel somewhat self-conscious, as she perceives her sister to be more grown-up and elegant. More beautiful, more of a…a woman. Every glance in the mirror was a reminder. Every time someone mistook her for a boy or commented on how “young” she looks, it is a dagger to her fragile sense of self. She can’t help but feel like a shadow beside her sister, always there but never truly seen, a constant reminder of everything she isn’t.

She hates these feelings. It makes her feel like her love she feels towards her sister is less real. But she loves Kiara with all her heart and would do anything for her. As she knows Kiara would do for her.

“And tonight! We have something special for our lovely audience. Two sisters from a place very very far away. The Sisters of the Watchers!”

Irina shakes these thoughts out of her head and looks up to see her sister extending a hand to her, Irina smiles and grabs her hand, standing up on her own.

Clapping, cheering, and hollering fills the two girls' ears. Taking this as their cue they walk onto the dingy stage of the bar and the crowd goes wild. Irina takes the mic from the man’s hand as her sister adjusts her guitar to find the most comfortable spot for herself.

The bar is packed, a haze of cigarette smoke and cheap beer hanging in the air. The manager is standing among the crowd of interested music fans, watching the two girls, as if worried that a shit performance would ruin the reputation of his shitty bar.

Irina feels a familiar rush of adrenaline as she steps into the spotlight. Her heart pounds, not just from the remnants of the nightmare that still clings to her, but from the anticipation of performing. This is her escape, her way of expressing everything she can’t put into words.

Kiara strums her guitar, the first few chords resonating through the smoky air, and Irina closes her eyes for a moment, letting the music fill her. When she opens them again, she meets her sister’s gaze. There is a silent understanding between them, a bond that goes beyond words, forged in the fires of shared experiences and pain.

Irina takes a deep breath and begins to sing. She closes her eyes once more to the crowd, fearing her own intimidation. Her voice is powerful, raw, filled with all the emotions she keeps buried deep within. The lyrics speak of loss, of regret, of a journey through darkness in search of the light. The crowd seems to fade away as Irina pours her soul into the performance, every word a piece of her heart laid bare.

Kiara’s guitar is more than an accompaniment; it is a voice of its own, echoing Irina’s pain and hope in equal measure. Together, they create a sound that is haunting and beautiful, a melody that lingers in the air long after the notes have faded. Irina opens her eyes and inhales a deep breath she smiles at her sister as Kiara begins to play a melancholic and creepy strum on her guitar. Irina then begins to sing the Dark Pop song her sister has written. Their second song.

The performance of their first song attracts more attention than the two girls anticipate. The murmur of conversation dies down as the lights in the bar dim. Whether this is intentional or accidental is up in the air. The crowd begins to focus intently and Irina can hear some of the talking and muttering in the background stop. It is as if every eye in the bar is focused on the two girls. As if they need to witness their performance.

Irina opens her eyes to the crown and can see them watching. Typically, she would feel fear at having this many people watch over her. But when she becomes possessed by the music, none of it matters. She lets the music take over, her voice rising above the noise, clear and powerful.

For those precious minutes on stage, nothing else matters. Not the nightmares, not the past, not the uncertainty of their future, and not even her dysphoria. It is just the music, and the connection they feel with the crowd. Irina pours her heart into every note, her voice a raw, unfiltered expression of everything she can’t say but can sing with perfect ease.

On stage she feels like a Goddess. As if she was born to sing in front of crowds.

When she sings she is no longer the confused young woman, she is powerful, elegant, immortal. Even before her voice training, she always had an amazing voice, but in her teens when she began to hone it with her highschool friends and sisters, her singing was elevated to another level.

The set ends too soon, the applause and cheering a fleeting comfort. Irina craves more. She needs to sing more but when her sister stops playing the guitar, the spell is over. She hands the mic back to the announcer and the two girls exit the stage.

But not before Irina meets the eyes of a pretty woman, she smiles and waves at Irina, her piercing dark blue eyes making contact. Irina performs a quick wave before following her sister back behind the stage.

The announcer then announces another artist and the spell the two girls had cast seems to end as everyone, except the hardcore music fans, go back to talking, flirting, and drinking.

As Kiara is placing her guitar back into its case, the manager comes backstage with a wide grin on his face and a cigarette sticking out of his mouth. “Excellent work girls. I didn’t think people would be into that new age pop shit, but you had the crowd intrigued. I might manage to pull an even bigger crowd next night thanks to you two.”

Irina looks at Kiara and smiles. The manager then pulled out his wallet and pulls a couple of one hundred dollar bills from his pocket. “Here’s your cut.” he says as he holds out three bills to Kiara. Her face twists into a frown, showing her temper rising, something Irina is all too familiar with.

“We agreed on $800.” Kiara says, tightening the grip she has on her guitar case.

“Just take the $300 and shut the fuck up.” the manager says in a condescending tone. Irina hates the way he is looking at them. Like they're weak. Like he can do whatever he wants to them. Like.. like they're prey.

“This isn’t what we agreed on motherfucker.” Kiara says as she drops her guitar and presses forward.

“Listen. I know you’re both only around 19 or 20 and you lied about your ages to get booked. I played along. Just be happy I booked you and your tranny little sister and shut the fuck up or I’ll call the cops.”

Kiara practically snarls and steps forward with her fist in the aur but Irina grabs her arm.

“Please Kiara. It’s not worth it.” Irina pleads. Tears threatening to leak from her eyes at any moment.

Kiara, sensing her little sister’s failing attempts to keep her emotions in check, puts her arm down and snatches the $300 from the man’s hand and picks up her guitar with the other. “I knew we shouldn’t have stopped at this fucking redneck shithole.”

“Hey! If you want a tip maybe go put on a little private show for the drunk guys up front. Slut.”

Kiara gives the manager the middle finger which only makes him laugh as the two girls leave out the backdoor. Irina uncomfortably grips her wrist, a defense mechanism she adopted when they were both children.

The two sisters stop at a diner. Burgers, fries, and sodas for the both of them. Irina can sense her older sister’s anger as the two tried to eat. “That was fucking bullshit. We should have gotten our full pay. And he…he called you a fucking slur Irina. I should go back there and burn that fucking place to the ground.”

Irina looks down at her half-eaten burger, she has done her best to hold back the tears. “We need to pick our battles. We’re two biracial young women in what is probably a sunset town. We can’t get arrested here.”

When Kiara gets like this. Reckless and dangerous. Irina needs to be the voice of reason. The rational one. No matter how hard she is hurting on the inside.

“I know…I know.” Kiara says. “But fuck. I want to fucking murder that prick.”

The neon sign from outside the diner helps casts a ominous shadow over the two girls. They are the only ones inside the diner. They can hear a cook and their waitress flirting in the back as they continued to eat.

This has been their life ever since Irina had gotten disowned at 17. When Kiara struck their father as he tried to drag Irina to a conversion camp. For the last two years the girls have spent their time working odd jobs, doing music gigs at random bars and clubs, never making roots or staying in a place for too long.

They are like nomads, only following the gigs they can book. “They’re doing a Horror Music Night in a few days at this bar in New Orleans for Halloween. I spoke with the manager Trevor over the phone. He has a cancellation and he offered us the slot. $500 gig. Midnight. Premium time.”

The two girls have spent two years moving. Moving towards? They didn’t know. Did they expect to get picked up by an agent? Or find a place that would offer them a permanent job? Neither girl can answer that question. Nor do they think they want to.

Was this to be their lives? In five or ten years. Would they still be doing this? Hoping from bar to bar, living off tips and gigs they could pick up? The future is so dark and uncertain and neither girl has a genuine answer.

“To New Orleans? That’s a 27 hour drive.”

Kiara nods, “we leave now. We can be there in time. Even stay at a hotel for a night or two. Give the manager our sample. He heard about us from Hudson Colbert, the misogynistic dick we did a performance for eight months ago.”

Irina feels her skin crawl, remembering how the 6’3 tattooed man with the goatee had looked at her and her sister. Like prey. Just as malicious as the manager of tonight. No…this one was just a selfish dick but Hudson was much worse.

The way after their performance and paying them he had offered them to hang out, gave them alcohol and tried to convince Irina to crawl into his office. The way he undid the blouse she was wearing while Irina was frozen, confused, and tipsy. She also remembered when Kiara had punched the man, giving him a bloody nose.

“You don’t think Hudson will sabotage us?”

Kiara laughs, “doubt it. The guy didn’t sound too fond of Hudson over the phone. Something about the guy trying to get his wife into bed or something.” Irina giggles as she forces the last fry into her mouth. When you live on the road, wasting food is something you never did.

Especially when actual meals might be few and far between.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Irina says as she shuffles out of the booth.

“Ok.” Kiara says smiling at her younger twin, “I’m gonna get our waitress to stop smooching on the cook and bring me a pie. You want to split?”

“Sure.” Irina says with a faint smile as she walks away.

She walks into the bathroom and it is exactly as she expects. Rusted metal and toilet paper, tampons, and even a used condom litters across the floor. She walks into the bathroom stall and locks the door behind herself.

She simply stares at the door and basks in uncanny silence. For one minute. Then two. Until finally she feels the tears streaming from her eyes. She quietly cries to herself. In silence. Her sister is carrying too much on her shoulders right now and she doesn’t want to add this to her load.

She promised herself she wouldn’t cry.

But what the manager said has truly hurt her.

‘I thought I passed better.’ she thinks to herself as she continues to cry.

She can only imagine the things that man most likely would’ve done to her if her sister wasn’t present to cause a scene. The hate and disgust in his eyes as he looked at her and hurled the slur at her.

Had he been thinking those things since they met? Since they showed him their sample and he promised them a slot?

Passing was safety and security.

She thought she passed better.

The manager’s words have cut deep, reopening old wounds that never really healed. She knows Kiara wants to protect her, but there’s only so much her sister can do. The world is cruel, and Irina has always known that. It’s just that sometimes, it feels like the cruelty is too much to bear.

Suddenly the door to the restroom swings open and Irina begins to wipe her tears fearing it is her sister. She washes her hands and leaves the stall only to see a elderly woman with graying hair. African American just like her.

The woman looks at Irina, her eyes causing a shiver to go down Irina’s spine. They were the same eyes as the woman in her dream, Azazel. The one with her cryptic warning and messages about households, power, and death.

She is staring at Irina but it is like she is staring through her, into the very depths of her soul.

“Ma’am is everything ok?” Irina asks the old woman as she steps towards her cautiously, trying not to make herself appear threatening. Making herself smaller. The old woman isn’t carrying a bag and her clothes are tattered rags. Maybe homeless? Is she suffering from dementia?

“Two sisters-” Irina feels her eyes widen, “-one womb, one grave. If you travel tonight you and your sister will die.”

Irina feels her face freeze. “What did you say to me?”

“You shared a womb as children, and now you will share a grave.”

The old woman ignores Irina’s question as she leaves the bathroom. Irina quickly runs out to follow her but to her confusion the woman is gone. The only person present being Kiara who was currently sipping on a coffee while she eats a pie.

“Did you see an old woman leave the bathroom?” Irina asks her sister as she runs back to their booth.

Kiara gulps down the piece of pie in her mouth. Her sister’s sweet tooth is unmatched. “No…we’re the only ones here. Irina, are you ok? Your face is pale?”

Irina looks back over at the bathroom expecting the woman to materialize out of thin air. “I’m fine…”

Kiara, sensing her sister’s pain, assumes it is the manager’s words that have gotten to her. “Here. Try this pie, it’s out of this world!” her sister states.

Irina rolls her eyes yet smiles softly. There is nothing particularly special about this pie. Just a cheap, most likely store bought, piece of black cherry pie, probably heated up in the microwave or if the diner was more fancy, a conventional oven or merry chef. But it was her sister’s attempt to cheer her up that matters.

“Kiara…I love you.”

Her sister perks up and smiles at her sister. “I love you too Irina.”

The two sisters finish their desert in silence before paying and going back out to their car.

Their car was a 2003 Ford Mustang. The black paint of the car has been chipping away before Kiara had spent the two girl’s only $3,000 to buy the car two years ago. It is in need of a major tune up and both girls fear the car will stop on them eventually but both girls pray to Luminous or any other deity they don't believe in that the car never fails while they are out on the road.

The truck is filled with their suitcases of clothes while the backseat is filled with bottled water and most importantly Kiara’s guitar. The car is full of gas and the two girls are ready to hit the road but Irina can't shake the feelings of fear and dread out of her head.

Was she gonna start believing in ghosts/spirits? Prophetic dreams and supernatural occurrences? Irina had abandoned all the Church of Light messaging she had been taught as a child by the time she was 16. Monsters aren’t real. And prophecies aren't either.

She tells herself this but her dreams are becoming too real and occurrences like the homeless lady are slipping into her non dream states. Maybe she is going insane. Like her father believes her to be for having transitioned.

Irina rubs her face, Kiara is about to jump into the driver seat when Irina holds her hand out. “Let me take the first shift.” Irina says calmly with a small smile.

Kiara eyes her curiously with a raised eyebrow. “You sure? You seemed tired before our performance.”

“Honestly I don’t think I can sleep right now even if I want to. And some late night driving is some good therapy. Scratch that. It's the only therapy I have right now. Besides, you’ve been up longer than me.” Irina says smugly. “Let me take care of my big sis for once. Now Keys.”

Kiara shrugs and hands Irina the keys. “Alright, fine. But no creepy stories until I fall asleep.”

“I promise.” Irina says. Doing a X and key locking motion over her heart. A habit they acquired as children at the orphanage. A sibling promise that was serious business when they were so small and naive. But now it is just a joke between adult twins.

“And if you start to feel sleepy, even a little, pull on the side and wake me up.”

“I know. I know.” Irina sighs, “I'll be fine. Promise.”

Kiara steps into the passenger side while Irina gets into the driver side. She reaches the back seat and grabs a redbull and takes a hard long swig. Kiara shoots her another look of concern however Irina waves her worries away with more promises she is fine.

She ignites the engine and begins to drive. Going wherever the road will take them.