After that first tense day back at school last week, I thought things might get easier. The whispers that followed me into my dreams last night prove otherwise. Each day brings changes to even the most familiar places.

"Julie?" Maya's voice breaks through my morning daze. She stands in my doorway, already dressed for school, clutching Mr. Whiskers to her chest. "Are you walking me today too?"

This is new - me being responsible enough to walk Maya to school. Before everything happened, she'd go with the other little ones from our street. Now no one comes to collect her anymore.

"Of course," I manage a smile, though my stomach twists at the thought of facing everyone again. Last week's brief appearance at school ended with me running home in tears. But today has to be different. Today I have to be stronger, if only for Maya's sake.

Claire waits at our usual corner, her face lighting up when she spots us. She runs over and wraps me in a tight hug, her arms trembling slightly. "You came," she whispers, her fingers finding mine like she's afraid I might disappear. "No running away today? Promise?"

The words echo with everything that happened - her walking me home, watching me break down, seeing Maya's strange certainty. Her eyes search my face, carrying weeks of worry mixed with something deeper now. Understanding, maybe. Or fear.

"Promise," I manage, grateful for her warmth. "Mom says I can't hide forever. Besides, Maya wouldn't stop pestering me about missing lessons."

She squeezes my hand once, quick and fierce. "Good," she says softly. "Because I'm not letting you face any of this alone. Not anymore."

"Julie! Julie!" Maya's excited voice cuts through the morning air as she spots something beyond the school gates. "Mrs. Hedda's cat had kittens! Can we see them after school? Please?"

Something in my chest loosens at her enthusiasm. Maya, somehow still focused on simple joys, still living in a world where new kittens are the most important news of the day.

"Maybe," I say, ruffling her hair. "If you behave in class."

The old school building rises ahead, its two stories of dark timber and rough stone holding both comfort and dread. Mrs. Ashwood, the older teacher, stands at the entrance ringing the morning bell. Her lined face breaks into a gentle smile as we approach.

"Children, time for classes!" she calls out, then spots me. Her eyes widen slightly. "Julie... welcome back, dear."

Mrs. Reed, the youngest teacher, meets Maya at the ground floor entrance. Her smile falters slightly when she sees me, but she recovers quickly. "Welcome back, Julie," she says softly. "And thank you for bringing Maya. It's... good to have a responsible older sister watching out for her."

I catch her meaning - no one else will walk with Maya anymore. Before I can dwell on it, Claire tugs gently at my sleeve. "Come on," she says. "Mrs. Hemlock's been asking about you every day."

"Julie," Mrs. Reed stops me before we can go. "How are you feeling? Is everything... alright at home?" Her concern seems genuine, but I notice how carefully she avoids mentioning specific events.

"I'm fine," I say automatically. "Just needed some rest."

She studies my face for a moment longer. "Well, you know you can always talk to us if you need to. Any of the teachers."

We hurry inside, taking our usual seats near the back window. The familiar classroom feels different now - conversations die as I pass, students shifting in their seats to maintain distance. Our class holds about 15 students, depending on the season. Although lately it seems emptier to me. Hans and Greta Weber still share their middle desk, but they lean away slightly when I pass. Mira keeps her healing crystals carefully aligned in the front row. Finn's empty desk in the corner serves as a silent reminder of what happened in the forest.

Mrs. Hemlock starts the morning with basic magic exercises. "Remember," her voice carries that familiar teaching tone, "mana responds to intent. Focus on what you want to achieve, then draw the energy up from your core."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Simple stuff - we've been doing these exercises since we were Maya's age. But today, something feels different. As I close my eyes and reach for my mana, I sense something else. Like currents moving beneath the surface of a still pond.

"Very good, Mira," Mrs. Hemlock praises. I open my eyes to see Mira's practice crystal glowing with a steady green light. She's always been good at healing magic.

Then I notice Finn, sitting across the room. His shoulders are tense, and when he tries the exercise, his crystal barely flickers.

"Julie?" Mrs. Hemlock's voice makes me jump. "Would you like to try?"

I pick up my crystal, expecting the usual gentle flow of mana. But the moment my fingers touch it, those strange little dark currents surge. The crystal doesn't just glow - it pulses, sending ripples, that obviously make nearby students gasp and lean back.

Mrs. Hemlock moves faster than I've ever seen her, snatching the crystal from my hand. For just a moment, her calm teacher's mask slips, revealing something like fear.

"I'm not quite sure what that was, Julie. Let me study it," she says, placing the crystal carefully in her desk drawer rather than back on the practice table. Her voice carries an odd mix of curiosity and concern. "That's... that's enough for now. Let's move on to history."

At lunch, Claire and I find a quiet spot in the courtyard. Maya bounces over, her smile bright as ever. "Julie! Emma's mama made honey cakes! Want to share?"

Emma trails behind her, clutching a cloth-wrapped package, looking uncertain. Other children hover at the edges of the courtyard, watching.

"Of course," I say, trying to sound normal. "Would you like to join us, Emma?"

Emma glances back at the other children, then at Maya's hopeful face. "I... okay," she says finally, her fingers nervously playing with the cloth wrapping. "Mama made lots. They're fresh from this morning."

We settle at one of the wooden tables, and slowly, the tension eases. Maya's natural cheerfulness draws small smiles even from those who usually avoid us. Claire tells funny stories about the class garden she helps tend, and soon we're all laughing at her impression of the stubborn carrots that refuse to grow straight.

The afternoon brings further challenges. During writing practice, my ink forms patterns I recognize from grandma's books, but I'm sure it's just an obsession of mine at this point. Then it's music class - I hate it, I can't really say otherwise. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get my voice to cooperate or my fingers to move properly on any instrument.

Our final lesson is herbology with Mrs. Ursa. She has us identifying different healing plants, their properties, their uses. It feels almost normal until my touch makes the herbs respond too strongly, their scents becoming overwhelmingly intense, making my nose prickling.

When the lessons finally end, I think we're safe. It has felt like an eternity today so far. But Finn's mother waits in the schoolyard. Others gather too - parents who used to smile, now watching with that mixture of fear and desperate hope.

"You're like her," Finn's mother says softly as I pass. "Like your grandmother. The whispers... they're getting stronger, aren't they?"

I hesitate, seeing the genuine concern in their faces. The mark on Finn's mother's shoulder pulses visibly, and I understand their desperate hope. But before I can respond, Maya grabs my hand.

"Time to go home!" she announces cheerfully. "Mom said no being late!"

We're almost at the gate when Finn steps out from behind a tree. Claire isn't with us - she's on garden duty this afternoon, tending the school's herb beds.

"Hey, freak," he calls out, but his voice wavers slightly. "Need your baby sister to protect you now?"

The words hit harder than they should. After everything - the whispers, the stares, the fear in teachers' eyes - this small cruelty is almost too much. I feel tears threatening, the stress of maintaining normalcy all day finally taking its toll.

Maya steps forward, small but fierce. "Don't be mean to my sister!"

"Maya, don't-" I start, but Finn's laugh cuts me off.

"This is perfect," he sneers. "The weird girl hiding behind a six-year-old. What's next, Julie? Gonna cry again?"

And I almost do. The weight of everything - the changes, the whispers, the responsibility - it all presses down at once. But then Maya takes my hand, and her touch reminds me of simpler things. Of kittens and honey cakes and sisters who don't care about whispers or strangeness.

"Let's go see those kittens," I say, turning away from Finn. His words follow us, but they matter less now.

The walk home feels longer than usual. Claire catches up eventually, still smelling of earth from the garden, and her quiet presence helps. Even Maya's chatter about kittens can't completely break the heavy silence that's settled over us.

We arrive in Hedda's garden and see the mother cat and her kittens on the veranda. They were all tame as we approached, while most of the kittens seem hesitant, the only black one in the litter immediately comes to us, purring loudly and rubbing against Maya's legs while its mother watches carefully, checking on each of her babies.

"Pretty kitty," Maya sings. "Making prettier friends."

I manage a smile. "Of course."

Because maybe that's what we need right now - a moment of simple joy, of ordinary magic like new kittens and honey cakes. A reminder of the world we're trying to protect, even as everything changes around us.

Normal may never have been an option. But today, at least, we can pretend it is.