The ride home didn't take long, but the silence stretched uncomfortably, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional sigh from her mother. Irene leaned her head against the window, watching the blurry city lights streak past in the dark. She glanced over at Jericho, slumped in the seat beside her, his head tilted awkwardly as he slept. Her eyes caught on the stitches running across his leg, a jagged reminder of how close they had all come to disaster.

When they pulled into the driveway, Irene climbed out of the car without a word, the weight of the day pressing heavily on her shoulders. She headed straight to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her as if it could keep everything else out. But the stillness in her room only amplified the noise in her head.

Deciding she needed to wash the day off—literally and figuratively—she peeled off her clothes and stepped into the shower. The scalding water poured over her, cascading down her back and shoulders, but instead of soothing her, it seemed to awaken everything she had been trying to suppress.

She stood motionless, her forehead resting against the cool tiles, as the steam curled around her. She had hoped the water would cleanse her mind, but instead, it magnified the memories. The fear in Phoebe's eyes. The harsh words from her mother. The lingering ache of guilt. They played on a loop in her head, louder and more vivid with every passing second.

Her breath hitched as the heaviness in her chest grew unbearable. For a moment, Irene let herself feel it all—the anger, the sadness, the regret—until the water ran cold, jolting her out of her spiraling thoughts. Irene stepped into her room, her face streaked with the remnants of dried tears. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open, and she froze. On her bed, nestled comfortably among the disheveled blankets, was a sleek black cat with piercing emerald-green eyes.

"Madeline?" Irene whispered, her voice barely audible as her gaze darted over her shoulder. She quickly shut the door, the soft click of the latch echoing in the silence.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, her heart racing.

The cat stretched lazily, her tail flicking with an air of nonchalance. "I told you before," Madeline said, her voice smooth and resonant in Irene's mind, "I'm here to guide you. And in order to do that, I need to be around you."

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"Guide me? Guide me for what?" Irene asked, her tone sharp with annoyance and confusion. She crossed her arms, glaring at the black cat lounging on her bed as if it owned the place.

"Your path with magic," Madeline replied evenly, her emerald-green eyes gleaming with an unsettling certainty.

Irene let out a frustrated laugh. "Magic? I don't have magic." Her voice faltered as she spoke, and she hated the tiny crack of doubt that slipped through. "There's nothing wrong with me."

Madeline flicked her tail, her gaze unwavering. "Oh, but there is. And it's not 'wrong'—it's extraordinary. I can feel it coursing through you like an undercurrent. Soul manipulation, to be exact. It's rare and incredibly powerful... but not without its price. Small things? Easy enough to handle. But the bigger it gets? The harder it'll be to control."

Irene's breath hitched. "Soul manipulation?" she repeated, the words foreign and terrifying on her tongue. "How do you even know that? How do you know anything about me?"

Madeline stretched lazily, her movements elegant and deliberate. "I told you—I'm your familiar. It's my purpose to guide you and to know you better than anyone." Her voice softened, taking on an almost playful edge. "And you're only just beginning. There's more to come, Irene. For you... and your friends."

Irene stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean? What's coming for them?"

Madeline's lips curved into what could only be described as a feline smirk. "All in good time, dear. Just know that what you've done so far? It's only the start."

Irene felt a cold knot twist in her stomach. "You're not telling me everything."

Madeline's eyes glinted with amusement as she turned her head toward the window. "Of course not. What's the fun in that?" her emerald green eyes had become softer. "I need to look for something. Stay here—I'll be back." Madeline's voice was calm yet cryptic, offering no further explanation.

"Wait, what? What do you mean, 'look for something'? What are you—" Irene started, but before she could finish, Madeline leapt gracefully onto the windowsill.

"Be patient, Irene," Madeline said over her shoulder, her emerald-green eyes flashing with a knowing glint. Then, with a swift flick of her tail, she disappeared through the open window, leaving Irene standing frozen in place, her mouth full of unspoken questions.

Irene rushed to the window, scanning the darkness outside. "Patient?" she muttered under her breath. "You can't just drop cryptic riddles and leave like that!" But the night offered no response, only the distant sound of wind rustling through the trees.