The sun had dipped low, casting golden fingers across the boardwalk and painting everything in soft, glowing light. People wandered past us—laughing couples, squealing kids holding cotton candy, groups of teens taking selfies like the world would stop if they didn't capture it.
I tried to pretend I was one of them.
Luna clung to River's arm, both of them walking ahead of me in their designer heels like it was a runway. They tossed their hair, leaned into each other's jokes, and moved in sync the way sisters who got along did. Or maybe just sisters who didn't have voices growling in their heads.
Mom trailed behind them, her phone in one hand as she answered a call with soft, clipped tones. I didn't bother asking who it was. Probably Dad, or one of her fancy dinner friends.
No one had said anything weird. No one had noticed I was off.
And yet, I couldn't stop watching them.
The breeze off the water lifted strands of my hair and cooled the sweat on the back of my neck. It should've felt good. Instead, I felt like I was being watched. Or worse—like I was slipping into a version of reality no one else could see.
We passed a café where someone had written "Happy Birthday" on the chalkboard outside, and River made a big show of dragging me toward it.
"This is perfect," she said, grinning wide. "It's got cake, and sugar, and it's not crawling with kids. Even you can't complain."
I gave her a half-smile, but my insides twisted. The last time I smiled like this was this morning, when Dad had promised we'd all go out together. But he wasn't here now. No one had even *mentioned* him.
I sank into my chair at the corner table while Luna flipped through the dessert menu like it was a life decision. River flirted with the waiter. Mom ordered for me before I could even open my mouth.
It was like I was invisible.
Maybe I wanted to be.
"Going to the restroom," I mumbled and stood before anyone could stop me.
No one looked up.
---
The café bathroom was dim and too quiet, like sound didn't work right in there. I splashed water on my face, stared into the mirror. My eyes were dark again. Normal. Human.
But I didn't trust them.
I leaned closer, breath fogging the glass. "You there?"
Nothing.
I sighed and turned to dry my hands, but halfway through wiping my face, the mirror flickered.
Not the light—the *mirror*.
I blinked, stepped back.
In the reflection, my eyes shimmered faintly gold for a second. And then I saw him.
Aerie.
Not in full—just a presence behind my reflection. Tall, shadowed, the shape of a beast carved out of fog. He didn't move. Didn't speak.
But I *felt* him.
I gripped the edge of the sink, nails biting porcelain. "What do you want from me?"
*You know what you are,* came the low reply—his voice inside my head like a deep river beneath ice. *You've always known.*
"No," I whispered. "I don't. I'm not—this isn't happening."
*They pretend,* he said. *They wear faces like masks. But they know. They remember.*
The light above the mirror buzzed loudly, then blinked out—just for a second.
I stumbled back. My heart raced.
"What do you mean they remember?"
But he was gone.