It was the kind of morning that hit you like a punch to the gut—the one where you know everything is about to change, and no matter how hard you try, you can't stop it.
The light that slanted through the window felt wrong—too soft, too peaceful, when Harper Quinn's life was anything but. The golden beams seemed to mock her as they painted the room in a serene glow. It was supposed to be comforting. Instead, it felt like the calm before the storm.
She stood there, staring at the pendant in her hand. It was cold, even though she'd been holding it for hours. Silver, delicate, yet impossibly heavy with power and responsibility. Harper wasn't the same 13-year-old girl who had discovered this thing. No, that girl was long gone—replaced by someone caught in the web of a prophecy, someone who had a universe to save, whether she liked it or not.
Her fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the pendant, tracing the ancient symbols etched into it. It had started as a family heirloom, a relic with a story her mom would tell when Harper was younger, about their bloodline's connection to Avaloria. That story had been all fantasy, until it wasn't.
Harper wasn't sure when the shift had happened, when the magic became real and the stakes turned deadly. Maybe it was when she first walked through the portal to Starwhisper Academy. Or maybe it was when she realized she wasn't just some teenager stumbling through a series of weird events, but a key player in a battle between two worlds.
And now, two years later, she was about to leave again. The world she'd fought for, the magic that had been her life, would soon be nothing more than a memory—her childhood room a distant echo. She should've been excited, maybe even relieved, but all she felt was fear. What if she couldn't live up to the role? What if she failed them all?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She quickly shoved the pendant into the pocket of her hoodie, wiping the tension off her face as she turned.
"Breakfast is ready," came her mother's voice, warm but edged with an unspoken worry.
Harper sighed, swallowed, and said, "Be down in a minute." She knew the drill. Eleanor Quinn—her mom—was always calm, always collected. She had to be. There were too many secrets buried in the family history, too many things Harper still didn't understand. Her mother had lived through battles of her own, and yet, here she was, trying to pretend everything was fine. But Harper could read her mom better than anyone. She knew the questions Eleanor had for her were the same ones Harper had for herself.
A part of Harper wanted to stay locked in her room forever. To live in that bubble where no one expected her to be anything more than who she was. But she couldn't. She'd already signed up for this—whether she wanted it or not.
She crossed the room, looking one last time at the walls, now decorated with mementos of a life she would never return to. Her favorite books, still lined up on the shelf, had been read too many times to count. Her childhood toys, relics of a simpler time, sat abandoned.
But what caught her eye was the photograph on the desk—a picture of her family, taken on her last birthday. They were smiling, unaware that this would be the last "normal" birthday she'd ever have. She saw the love between her parents, the way her dad's arm was around her mom, a quiet promise that no matter what, they had each other. It almost made her want to believe that everything would work out. But deep down, Harper knew better.
She shoved the photo face down on the desk, taking one last look at the room, trying to etch it into her mind before she left it all behind.
The door creaked again, but this time, it wasn't her mom.
Jonathan Quinn, her dad, leaned against the frame with a grin that was almost too bright. His messy dark hair and sharp blue eyes still had the same warmth, but Harper could see through him. She could see the worry in the slight twitch of his jaw.
"Morning, kiddo," he said, pushing off the doorframe and ruffling her hair like he did when she was little. It was a gesture she'd almost forgotten about.
"Morning, Dad," Harper mumbled, her voice rougher than she meant it to be.
Jonathan's eyes softened, but he didn't say anything at first. He just stood there, his expression unreadable, until he crossed the room and stood beside her, looking at the photo of the family. "You know," he began quietly, "you don't have to do this."
Harper turned to face him, her lips trembling slightly as she tried to keep her emotions in check. "Yes, I do."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Harper, your mom and I—" he paused, struggling to find the words. "We never expected any of this. I don't think we realized what this life would cost you."
"It's not just about me," she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. "It's about everything. Earth, Avaloria… all of it. I don't get to choose, Dad. This is what I was born to do."
Her father stared at her for a long moment, the tension thick between them. Finally, he smiled, but it was the kind of smile that broke her heart. "Just remember that we'll always be here for you, Harper. No matter what happens."
Harper nodded, though she didn't believe it could be that simple. The weight of what was coming was too much. Too heavy. "I know, Dad."
The room was heavy with silence as they stood together for a moment longer, before her dad turned to leave. "I'll be downstairs," he said, his voice distant, but still full of love. "We'll talk more later."
Harper swallowed and gave a small nod, watching him walk out of the room. Once the door clicked shut, she let out the breath she didn't know she was holding. It wasn't like she was going off to war. But maybe it felt worse. At least in war, you knew what you were fighting for.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of hurried packing, last-minute advice, and hugs that felt both suffocating and comforting all at once. Her friends had arrived early, of course—Nova, Asher, and Luna. They were there to make sure she wasn't walking into her destiny alone, but the silence between them said everything. They all knew something was coming. Something huge.
Harper couldn't shake the feeling that the world was holding its breath.
Nova, Asher, and Luna had been the constant presence through all of this. They had trained together, fought together, and now, they stood by her side, but there was an underlying tension. No one was pretending anymore. The stakes were too high.
She walked downstairs slowly, her feet dragging. Her family was gathered in the kitchen, her mom already setting the table for breakfast like it was just another normal morning. But nothing felt normal. Not today.
Her dad was standing by the counter, fiddling with the kettle, though he wasn't actually looking at it. He was staring at the space in front of him, his eyes distant. Eleanor, her mom, was busily cutting fruit, though her movements were automatic. They were all trying too hard to act like everything was fine. But it wasn't.
Harper couldn't stop herself from looking at the door one last time. The door to the world that she'd known, the world that was slipping away. The life she once had was already becoming a faded memory.
"Are you okay?" Nova's voice cut through the silence, and Harper turned to see her friend standing beside her, a frown on her face.
Harper nodded, even though she didn't feel okay. "Yeah. Just… just trying to wrap my head around everything."
Asher's voice came from the other side of the room. "We've got your back, Harper. Always."
"Yeah, no matter what happens," Luna added softly, her eyes full of quiet reassurance.
Harper offered a smile, though it felt foreign. "I know. Thanks."
But deep down, she was scared. Scared of what would happen if she failed. Scared of what would happen if she succeeded.
They sat down to breakfast, the conversation light and distracted, though the unease was palpable. No one mentioned the mission ahead. No one had to. It was all too obvious. They were all pretending, even if only for a few more hours.
But as they finished breakfast and began to gather their things, Harper's phone buzzed. She glanced down at the message, the name on the screen stopping her in her tracks.
Darius Shadowfang.