THE SOUND REACHED ME before the light did with its soft, rapid flutters like pages turning in a storm. I stirred under the thin blanket, my head still heavy with sleep, and blinked against the gray of early morning. For a heartbeat, I thought it was just the wind rattling the shutters. But then came another rustle, sharper this time, and a muted thump on the sill. Then I saw feathers.
My then eyes opened fully. There, framed by the pale wash of dawn, was Sebastian who perched on the windowsill with his wings tucked tight against his sides. Drops of mist clung to his dark feathers, glittering faintly like dew on black silk. He tilted his head at me, as if telling me he wants to talk.
I sat up, the sheets tangling around my legs. "Sebastian?" My voice came out as a whisper, ragged with sleep. Behind me, there was a groan of movement. Riven rolled over on the floor, his blanket slipping from his shoulders as Hunter stirred at his feet. The German shepherd let out a low whine before stretching his legs and yawning wide, tail thumping once against the wooden boards.
"What's going on?" Riven's voice was gravelly, still half-asleep. He pushed himself upright, rubbing his eyes before following my gaze to the window. When he saw Sebastian, his expression sharpened. The soldier in him was always quicker to wake than the man.
Sebastian's feathers ruffled in the breeze coming through the cracked glass. Then, with a quick flick of his wings, he hopped closer, claws gripping the sill. His voice—still human despite the beak—was low and urgent. "You need to listen carefully. Both of you."
Sebastian never came like this, never sounded like this, unless something had gone wrong.
"What happened?" I asked, already swinging my legs off the bed. My feet found the cool wood, grounding me, but my hands trembled slightly as they gripped the edge of the mattress.
Sebastian glanced once at Riven, then back to me. "I've been circling the outer perimeter since dawn. At the edge of the island, near the old dock, I saw one of the Others."
The word alone made my stomach tighten. "Doing what?"
Sebastian shifted his weight, wings twitching. "He's been watching a boy. Young. Can't be more than ten or eleven. Amish clothes, barefoot. And honestly, I think he's gifted. The Other's been tailing him, photographing him, like he's cataloguing a specimen."
The room seemed to tilt. A boy. Not even old enough to understand what was happening to him. My mind flashed with Lucinda's trembling voice from yesterday, her twin sons clinging to her skirts. Her husband gunned down. Her fear of them being next.
Riven was already moving. He reached for his pack, checking the magazine of his sidearm with mechanical precision. "Where exactly?" he asked Sebastian.
"North edge," Sebastian said without hesitation. "Two miles out near the willow flats."
Hunter had risen by now, ears pricked, sensing the tension. I then stood, pressing my palms to my eyes for a moment. 'Think, Alice.' We couldn't just rush in. We didn't know how many were out there, or what they wanted. But the thought of another child being stalked like prey made bile rise in my throat.
"What if it's a trap?" I asked. My voice sounded small, even to me. "What if they're waiting for—"
Sebastian's tone cut in, sharp but not unkind. "Do you want to wait until they take him? Until there's no one left to save? Besides, it is also our opportunity to observe those men and know more about them."
I opened my mouth, but no words came. Because the truth was, no—I didn't want to wait. I'd already waited too long once. My father's face flickered in my mind, the way the men in black had taken everything without warning. I couldn't bear to see it happen again. And in the process, Riven looked at me with this expression that I can only describe as unreadable but steady. "We don't have to decide right this second," he said quietly, though his hands still moved with purpose. "But if we're going, we go fast. Or we don't go at all."
His calmness steadied me more than Sebastian's urgency. I took a breath, then nodded. "Okay. We'll go."
Hunter barked once in a low tone, as if in agreement.
I hurried to the small dresser by the bed, pulling on a thicker sweater and shoes with my fingers clumsy on the laces. My mind was a whirl of half-formed plans and fear, but beneath it all there was a steady thread of something else. And beside me, Riven was already packed. He now puts on a black tank top, his black cap, and his military pants and boots. His movements were efficient but not rushed. Watching him, I caught myself thinking—not for the first time—how different our worlds had been, yet how similar our instincts were. His for combat, mine for protection.
As I reached for my coat, he was kneeling on the floor, breaking off a piece of stale bread and offering it to Hunter. "Eat up, buddy," he murmured, voice softer than I'd heard it in days. "You'll need the energy."
Hunter took it gently from his hand, tail wagging once. I paused, the coat halfway on, and watched the scene. It was such a simple gesture, but something about it snagged at me. This man who had lost his entire squad, who was now living off scraps in the woods, still thought first of the pet who depended on him. My chest ached, though I couldn't name the feeling.
"Ready?" Riven's voice broke through my thoughts.
I blinked, pulling the coat fully over my shoulders. "Yeah. As ready as I'll ever be."
Sebastian shifted on the sill, feathers bristling. "Then let's move. Before they capture him."
I crossed the room, but before climbing out the window I glanced back once—at the rumpled blanket on the floor, the faint impression of Riven's sleeping form still there. For some reason, that image stayed with me as I swung my leg over the sill and followed Sebastian into the pale morning.
***
We moved fast but quiet, cutting through the woods as dawn bled pale gold into the trees. My shoes sank into damp moss. The air smelled of pine and saltwater from the cliffs. Overhead, Sebastian glided like a shadow, with his dark feathers gleaming wetly from the night's storm. I kept glancing back over my shoulder at the sprawling house hidden behind the trees. And yet, here I was, sneaking out. Each step away from it felt like a string pulling taut inside me, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not when a boy's life might be on the line.
I whispered to Riven as we ducked under a low branch, "Do you think anyone saw us leave?"
He shook his head without looking at me, eyes fixed on the path. "I don't think so."
I tried to breathe evenly, but my heart was a drum. Beside us, Hunter padded silently, nose to the ground. His fur brushed against my leg now and then, a grounding presence. We broke from the thicker trees into a clearing near the edge of Willowmere, where the underbrush gave way to thin grass and swampy flats. Sebastian swooped down low, circling once before perching on a dead branch. Even from here, I could see his feathers bristle.
"They're there," he called softly. I followed his gaze—and froze.
A man in black stood near the reeds, his suit immaculate despite the mud. He held a camera, its lens glinting like a cold eye as it tracked a small figure ahead of him. A boy—no older than ten, maybe younger—dressed in plain Amish clothes, his bare feet pale against the wet earth. The child was gathering sticks, unaware of the predator behind him. My stomach turned. 'A child. He's just a child.'
Riven crouched low, his gun already in his hands, movements so smooth it was like his body had rehearsed this moment. "One target," he murmured. "If we're careful—"
But before he could finish, two more shapes emerged from the trees on the other side of the boy. More men in black. They moved in eerie unison, their faces pale and expressionless, like marionettes cut from the same mold. Suitcases glinted at their sides. They were closing in. The boy noticed now—he turned, eyes wide with confusion, clutching the sticks like a shield. My pulse hammered. There was no more time to plan.
"Wait," Riven hissed. "Alice—"
But I burst from the cover of trees, hand outstretched. Power surged hot through my veins, and a dome of shimmering light exploded outward, snapping into place around the boy just as the first man lunged. The impact rang against my barrier like a struck bell.
The Others froze, heads snapping toward me in unison. Their faces were blank, but their intent was clear. Hunters, interrupted. The boy scrambled back behind me, trembling.
"Run," I told him over my shoulder, my voice shaking. "Go, now!"
But he didn't move. He was too scared.
"Alice!" Riven's voice was sharp behind me. "Get down!"
Gunfire cracked through the clearing. Riven's first shot struck one of the men cleanly in the shoulder, spinning him back. The man didn't cry out—just staggered, then straightened, pale eyes locking on Riven like nothing had happened. Then Hunter lunged at the second man, teeth flashing. He clamped down on the Other's arm, and for a moment the predator became prey, twisting violently to shake him off. The suitcase dropped, spilling a glint of metal tools into the mud. On the other side of the place, Sebastian dropped from the sky like a blade, shifting as he fell. Feathers seemed to melt midair, his wings splitting into arms, his body elongating, until by the time he hit the ground he was human again, striking with a force that sent the first man reeling.
It should have been enough. Three against three. Surprise on our side. But unfortunately, it wasn't.
When Riven successfully defeated the man he gunned down, a third man stepped forward—the one with no suitcase. His eyes were the palest gray I'd ever seen, nearly white. He raised his hand, and the ground trembled. A deep, low tremor rippled through the soil, then it surged outward in a rolling pulse. Cracks veined the ground in jagged patterns, dust curling up in pale spirals. Roots shifted, trees shuddered, and the air itself quivered as though the island's heart had skipped a beat. Power radiated from him, bending nature's spine.
I gasped as the earth beneath my shoes bucked like a living thing. Cracks spiderwebbed out from where he stood. My barrier flickered. Each pulse of his power hit it like a hammer as it drained me. I widened my stance, bracing my arms, but my knees were already weak.
"Riven!" I called, voice breaking.
He was firing again, but the bullets barely slowed the man. The tremors grew stronger, rocks lifting and hovering in the air before whipping toward us like slingshots. One struck Sebastian in the shoulder; he stumbled back, cursing. Hunter yelped as the ground heaved under him, nearly throwing him off the man he was biting.
I clenched my teeth, forcing more energy into the barrier. It shuddered, flickered, then steadied for a heartbeat. Sweat dripped into my eyes. My vision blurred. Every attack the man unleashed chipped at me, pulling strength from my bones.
'Too strong,' I thought, panic clawing up my throat. 'He's too strong. I can't hold it—'
Another tremor hit, harder than the last. My knees buckled. The barrier cracked like glass under a blow. I cried out, staggering, my hands trembling as light wavered around us.
Riven was beside me in an instant, grabbing my arm, steadying me. "Whit! Stay with me!" His voice was raw, urgent. "Just a little longer—"
"I can't—" The words ripped out of me before I could stop them. My power sputtered, flickering.
The man's pale eyes fixed on me, and for the first time I saw something there—not expression, exactly, but hunger. He lifted both hands, the ground convulsing. The barrier shrieked under the pressure, fracturing like ice. Then, out of nowhere, the Other was gone.
No—he wasn't gone. He was flying. Flung backward as if struck by an invisible force, his body smashed into a metal pole with a sickening crack. He slid to the ground, limp.
I stared, panting, sweat slick on my palms. "What—"
A figure strode out from the treeline. Slender, dark hair swept back, eyes hard as iron. She lifted one hand lazily, and the rocks still hovering in the air dropped at once, thudding into the mud. Her expression didn't change, but power radiated from her like a silent storm. Behind her came Dwight, his face grim but steady. He looked at me, then at Riven, then at the boy trembling behind my legs.
My heart lurched. 'They followed me. They saw me leave.'
"Harriet," I whispered, my voice small.
She didn't answer, only flicked her gaze toward the fallen Other. Her telekinesis had done what all our efforts couldn't.
I looked from her to Dwight, my thoughts a chaotic tumble. Of all the people to find us, of course it had to be them. Of course it had to be Harriet, always arriving at the perfect moment, always saving the day.
Riven shifted closer to me, his gun still raised but his eyes darting warily between them.
I swallowed hard, my barrier flickering out with a final shiver. The boy clutched my sweater, trembling. The clearing smelled of ozone and earth, of gunpowder and fear. And I kid you not, I had no idea what Harriet and Dwight were going to say. I only knew the secret was out—and nothing would ever be the same.
The clearing had gone eerily still after the chaos. The smell of wet earth and iron clung to the air, the only sound the soft hiss of wind through the reeds. My barrier had long since vanished, leaving me trembling, but still on my feet. The Others who'd attacked us lay scattered—one unconscious, two retreating into the trees like shadows dissolving at dawn.
Dwight's shoes squelched against the mud as he strode up behind Harriet. He was breathing hard but steady, scanning the scene like the guy he'd never stopped being. Harriet, of course, stood calm as a statue, with her hand still faintly lifted from the telekinetic blow she'd landed. Her face was unreadable, but her dark eyes flicked from me to Riven to the unconscious man at my feet.
I forced myself forward, even though my legs already felt heavy. The man Harriet had flung lay crumpled against a metal pole, rain streaking down his pale face. He looked human. Too human. But his stillness made my skin crawl. At his side lay a black leather case his comrade carried, half-unzipped from the impact. Papers spilled out like a spill of secrets.
I crouched, fingers trembling as I reached for them. A small card slipped free first—a businesslike rectangle stamped with nothing but a number: 0145. My heart thudded. Not a name, not a title. Just a number. As if that was all this man was now. I shuffled through the other documents with cold hands. But all I see were lists. All I see were Addresses. Photographs of faces I didn't recognize, some circled in red. Children, teenagers, even older men and women—all of them with notations scribbled along the margins. "Confirmed manifestation." "Subject unstable." "Extract at convenience."
I swallowed hard, bile rising.
They're cataloguing us. Hunting us like game.
My fingers caught on another page, and my stomach dropped. The photo was of the Amish boy no older than Morgan. Beside it: "Asset potential—energy transfer."
I snapped the folder shut before my hands started shaking too visibly.
Behind me, Dwight's voice broke the silence. "Alice. What the hell is going on?"
I didn't turn. I couldn't. My pulse was a hammer in my ears. I closed my eyes, pressing the papers to my chest like they might disappear if I loosened my grip.
"Alice," Dwight repeated, his tone sharper now, closer. "Who is he?" I heard him gesture toward Riven without needing to look. "And what exactly are you doing out here? You're supposed to be at the house. You're supposed to be safe."
Safe.
Riven stood a little ways off, gun lowered but his stance still tight, and Hunter pressed close to his leg. Sebastian hovered in his human form near the tree line, feathers still clinging to his hair, silent but watching. I forced myself to stand, turning slowly. I tried to breathe. Tried to think. My mind was a whirlwind of excuses, of possible lies. But every single one felt like a spiderweb that would break at the first touch. Dwight's jaw was set. He wouldn't let this go.
"Tell me," he demanded. "Now."
I looked at Harriet then, hoping—what, exactly? That she'd intercede? That she'd give me a signal? She didn't. She just watched me, as though she were dissecting my every move.
I drew in a shaky breath. "All right," I said quietly. "Fine."
Dwight's eyes narrowed. "Fine what?"
"I'll tell you everything," I said.
I exhaled hard through my nose, wishing he would just believe me. "I met Riven under the willow tree a few weeks ago," I said, and even as I spoke I could picture it—the shade, the quiet, the way Riven's dog had looked at me first. "He's a soldier who happens to be stationed near our home. Or he was. He lost his entire unit to when they were being ambushed. He's been living in the woods ever since with his dog, Hunter."
Dwight's expression darkened. "And you just… trusted him?"
I winced a little at the edge in his voice. 'I didn't at first,' I thought, but what came out was, "No. Not at first. But he saved me, Dwight. More than once." My throat tightened, and I pushed the words out anyway. "He's not like them. He's human, yes, but he hates the Others as much as we do. Maybe more."
Dwight's jaw clenched. "You should've told the Headmaster."
"And then what?" My voice rose before I could stop it. "They'd lock him up, or drive him out. He's the only person outside this house trying to help." I swallowed, forcing my tone down. "I couldn't just leave him out there."
For a second he didn't answer, just looked at me like he was trying to read something off my face. The rain was coming down harder now, pattering against the leaves above us.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Alice," he said finally, quieter now.
I knew he was right. I hated that he was right. "I know." The words came out cracked, almost broken. "But I'm not sitting still while they take more people. Not after what happened to my father."
There it was—the slip. My father. The memory that still burned like an open wound.
Dwight's expression softened just a fraction, though the suspicion stayed. "This isn't going to stay secret forever," he said.
"I know," I whispered, hugging my arms around myself. "But for now, it has to."
And for a heartbeat, neither of us said anything. Only the sound of the rain, and somewhere behind us, Hunter's soft bark in the distance.
As I spoke, Riven stood straighter, his eyes flicking between us but he stayed silent. Hunter sat obediently at his feet, tail low but still.
I went on when Dwight's stare stumbled upon Sebastian. "The owl you saw was Sebastian." I gestured toward the dark-feathered humanoid standing near the trees. "I found him long before I met Riven," I said quietly, my eyes flicking up to the owl circling above us. "He was injured—half-starved, half-broken—when I stumbled on him near the school one day. I didn't even know he was gifted then. I just couldn't leave him there. I took care of him until he healed, and by the time I learned what he really was, he'd already become my friend."
Sebastian inclined his head slightly, but didn't speak. His eyes were steady, sharp, watching Dwight.
Dwight exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his damp hair. "You've been sneaking out. Tracking them. Endangering yourself. All of us." His voice was low but rough. "Alice, do you realize how reckless that is? What you're risking?"
Something in me snapped. The papers in my hands crumpled slightly as I clenched them tighter.
"What's reckless," I said, my voice sharper than I intended, "is sitting back while innocent people are murdered or experimented on."
Dwight's head jerked up. "That's not fair—"
"No," I cut him off, stepping forward. "What's not fair is this." I shoved the papers at him. They slapped against his chest before he caught them. "Look at it. They're not just hunting us—they're cataloguing us. Children. Families. Do you think hiding will save them? Do you think if we sit in that house and pretend everything's fine, it'll stop?"
Dwight flipped through the documents, his face paling as he took in the contents. His mouth opened, then closed. No words came out.
I pressed on, my voice trembling but steady. "I learned all of this because I looked. Because I found Ryan's files. He knows about them. He's been studying them. He knows what they're capable of. And he's still telling us to just—just wait."
My chest ached. I realized only then how fast my heart was pounding, how tightly my fists were clenched at my sides. Rain dripped from my hair into my eyes but I didn't wipe it away.
"I can't do it anymore," I said quietly. "I won't. Not after losing both of my parents during that day."
Dwight's expression shifted. He looked at Harriet as if for backup. "Say something," he muttered. "Talk some sense into her."
I turned to Harriet too, expecting her usual cool dismissal, her thinly veiled contempt. Expecting her to nod at Dwight, to call me reckless, childish, naive. She was quiet for a long moment, rain streaking down her pale cheeks. When she finally spoke, her voice was low but clear.
"She's right."
I blinked at her. "What?"
Harriet's dark eyes met mine, steady and unreadable but no longer cold. "You're right," she said again. "About all of it."
Dwight's head snapped toward her. "You can't be serious."
She didn't look at him. She kept her gaze on me. "I've read the files too. More than once. Ryan may not realize it, but the Others are escalating. They're not just hunting anymore—they're collecting. Preparing. Hiding will only postpone the inevitable." She glanced down at the unconscious man she'd flung, her jaw tight. "I should know. I've seen what happens when we wait too long."
The clearing was so quiet I could hear the boy's stick bundle hit the ground somewhere behind me. The Amish child had slipped away already, running into the trees, but the echo of his fear still clung to the air.
I stared at Harriet. For so long I'd been a shadow for her—perfect, untouchable, a reminder of everything I wasn't. To hear her agree with me felt like the ground had shifted under my feet.
"Why?" I asked before I could stop myself. My voice came out raw. "Why are you agreeing with me now?"
Harriet tilted her head slightly. "Because you're the only one who's actually doing something," she said simply. "And because I'm tired of pretending too."
Her words hit me harder than any tremor the Other had conjured. Something flickered in my chest—relief, maybe. Or the beginnings of something like hope.
Dwight still looked between us, lost. "This is insane," he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction now. "We're supposed to protect each other, not—"
"And we will," Harriet said, cutting him off with a glance. "But protection doesn't always mean hiding."
I lowered my eyes, staring at the mud, and then at my shaking hands. My father's face flashed unbidden in my mind. I swallowed hard.
"I just want justice," I said softly. "For my dad. For all of the victims the Others have."
Dwight sighed, rubbing his face. "You're going to get yourself killed," he said at last.
"Maybe," I said, meeting his eyes. "But at least I won't be doing nothing."
He didn't answer. He just stared at me, then at the documents still in his hands. Finally, slowly, he lowered them.
The wind shifted through the trees, carrying away the last echo of tremors and fear. The clearing felt different now, not safe but… chosen. Like a line had been drawn and we'd stepped over it together. And frankly, I didn't know what would come next. But for the first time, standing there dripping with rain and mud, Harriet at my side and Riven behind me, I didn't feel completely alone.
***
Rain drizzled softly from the gray sky while all of us decided to head back. Each drop seemed louder in the silence between us. The mud sucked at my shoes as I walked, my arms folded tight over my chest as if I could keep the cold—and the weight of what had just happened—out.
Sebastian had gone aloft again after shifting, a shadow in motion against the washed-out sky. Every so often, through the drifting mist, I'd catch the glint of his wings cutting across the gray. Below him, Hunter kept to Riven's heels, paws silent in the damp earth, and ears canted back but tail steady. Harriet led the line without a word. Lastly, Dwight hovered just behind me, close enough that I could feel his gaze flicking between me and Riven. I didn't look at him though, but I could feel his suspicion burning at my back. It was like a weight pressing down, heavy and relentless. I knew what was going through his head: 'Who is this stranger? Why has Alice been sneaking around with him? How long has this been happening?' I didn't blame him for thinking it. But the longer he stared, the more my skin crawled.
Riven noticed too. He didn't return the stare, though. He just kept walking, his shoulders squared but his gaze fixed on the ground ahead. He looked calm, but his jaw was set, the muscle there flexing every so often like he was chewing on words he wouldn't say. I wrapped my arms tighter. My stomach churned with exhaustion and nerves, but also with something else—something that felt dangerously close to guilt. I had pulled them all into this. Riven, Sebastian, and now even Harriet and Dwight. The moment I stepped out from under Ryan's roof, I'd crossed a line. Now they all had, too.
The silence dragged on until it felt like a fifth person walking with us. When we reached the outskirts of Willowmere—the familiar break in the trees where the first glimmer of the house's rooftop peeked through—Dwight stopped abruptly.
I nearly walked into him.
He turned, like a teacher about to scold a student they cared about. Harriet stopped a few feet ahead, glancing back, her dark eyes flicking between him and me. Riven stood off to the side, his hand resting on Hunter's head, silent but watchful. Above, Sebastian circled lower, his shadow sweeping over us like an omen.
Dwight's voice broke the hush. "We need to talk," he said simply.
My stomach tightened. "About what?"
He shoved his wet hair out of his face. "You broke the rules, Alice. All of you. You know what this means."
I forced myself to meet his eyes. "I know."
"Do you?" His tone sharpened. "Do you understand what you're risking? Not just yourself, but everyone in that house?"
"I do," I said quietly. "Better than you think."
He sighed, his breath fogging in the cool air. For a moment his expression softened. "You've always been stubborn," he muttered. "Even back at school."
I blinked at him, startled by the unexpected memory. He had stood up for me once when no one else had. The image flickered in my mind like a photograph catching the light. For a heartbeat I saw him not as the wary young man in front of me but as the boy in the football uniform, sunlight glinting off his helmet, his voice steady as he told people to leave me alone.
I shook the thought off. "This isn't about being stubborn," I said. "It's about not being blind."
Dwight's eyes flicked toward Riven again. "And him?" he asked. "Where does he fit into this?"
Riven straightened slightly, his hand still on Hunter's head. He met Dwight's gaze without flinching. "Hey bro, I'm not your enemy," he said evenly.
Dwight's jaw worked. "I want to believe that."
Harriet spoke then, her voice cutting through like a blade. "Dwight," she said calmly, "we've already talked about this."
He looked at her sharply. "But I just—"
She tilted her head slightly. "We promised to keep quiet. For now."
Dwight's eyes widened. "You—" He stopped, glancing between us. "You're serious."
"Yes," Harriet said simply. "Alice may have broken rules, but admit it, she's not wrong."
The words made something warm and strange flicker in my chest again. Harriet—of all people—backing me. It still felt unreal.
Dwight dragged a hand down his face. "Screw this," he muttered. But his voice lacked the heat it had before. He looked at me again, and this time his expression was tired, not angry. "Fine. For now," he said at last. "But if Ryan finds out…"
"He won't," I said quickly. "I'll handle it."
He shook his head but didn't argue. Instead he stepped back, gesturing toward the path. "Go. Before someone sees us."
My shoes squelched softly in the mud. Sebastian swooped lower overhead, his wings stirring the mist, as if urging us on. As the house came into view through the trees, my pulse quickened. Lights glimmered faintly in the windows, warm and inviting. It should have felt like safety. Instead it felt like a trap.
And then, just as we stepped past the tree line, a small voice called out.
"Alice?"
I froze. My heart lurched. When I looked at where the voice came, I saw the very boy I befriended before who always had terrible nightmares. And still, he carried with him his drawing book.
Morgan stood a few feet away. His wide eyes darted from me to Riven, to Hunter, then up to the sky where Sebastian circled. He'd caught us. All of us.
I turned sharply to Riven and Sebastian, my voice low but urgent. "Go," I hissed. "Hide."
Riven didn't hesitate. He grabbed Hunter's collar lightly and guided him toward the deeper trees. Sebastian dipped low as Riven did, shifting midair in a flash of feathers and vanishing into the canopy. Within seconds they were gone, nothing but the faint rustle of leaves betraying their retreat.
I then forced a steady breath and turned back to Morgan. He was still staring at me, his small hands gripping his book so tightly his knuckles were white.
"Hi," I said softly, crouching a little to meet his gaze. My voice felt too loud, too sharp, so I softened it further. "Hey, it's just me."
His eyes flicked to the trees where Riven had disappeared. "Who were they?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
My heart pounded. "Friends," I said carefully. "Good people. Like us."
He tilted his head. "Why are they hiding?"
I swallowed. "Because… not everyone would understand if they saw them." I glanced back toward the house, then back at him. "Morgan, I need you to do something for me. Something important."
He hugged his drawing book tighter. "What?"
I took a small step closer. "I need you to keep what you saw a secret. Just between us. Can you do that?"
He frowned slightly, thinking. Rain dotted his hair like tiny stars. For a moment he looked impossibly young—so much younger than the nightmares he'd been carrying.
"Are they going to get in trouble?" he asked.
"No," I said quickly. "Not if you don't tell."
He bit his lip. "Are they… safe?"
"Yes." I hesitated, then added softly, "Safer, if you keep this secret."
He studied me for a long moment, his eyes big and searching. I held my breath, feeling like my whole life balanced on the edge of his next word.
Finally, slowly, he smiled. A small, secret smile.
"Okay," he whispered.
Relief washed through me so hard my knees almost gave out. I reached out, brushing a damp curl from his forehead. "Thank you," I murmured. "You're braver than you know."
He ducked his head shyly. "I won't tell."
I straightened, glancing once more toward the trees where Riven and the others hid. The forest was silent now, as though holding its breath.
Morgan shifted his book under his arm. "You're going to help them?" he asked quietly.
I looked down at him, my heart twisting. "I'm going to try," I said.
He nodded solemnly, then turned and walked back toward the house, his small shoulders squared like a soldier's. I watched him go, the rain blurring my vision, until the door closed behind him.
Only then did I let out the breath I'd been holding.
The clearing seemed to exhale with me, the mist curling around my ankles. Somewhere in the trees, I heard a soft bark. Probably Hunter's.
I pressed a hand to my chest. My heart was still racing, but underneath the fear, something else pulsed—a strange warmth, fragile but steady. We weren't out of danger. Not even close. But for the first time, it felt like we were no longer moving alone.