---
Sylvia leapt down the stairs two at a time, her bare feet tapping lightly on the worn wooden steps. A lazy grin played on her lips, as if the world outside hadn't just shifted on its axis.
"Careful, Sylvia. You're not a kid anymore," Lysaria called Sylvia leaped down the stairs two at a time lazily with a smile on her face.
"Careful, Sylvia. You're not a kid anymore," Lysaria cautioned while setting the table.
"Wow, are you sure about that, Aunt?" Sylvia asked ironically with a knowing smile.
"I don't have time for your excesses right now, so sit down and eat your food, young lady," Lysaria replied sternly, ignoring her remarks.
Sylvia rolled her eyes in frustration but still went on to pull out a seat for herself.
They began eating without either of them saying another word to each other. But they were soon interrupted by a knock on their door.
Upon hearing the knock, Lysaria tensed up immediately.
"It may just be Grandma Ellie, our neighbor," Sylvia said before stuffing her mouth with food.
"I'll get it," Lysaria said. "And you be quiet."
Lysaria walked to the door quietly and creaked it open, plastering a polite smile on her face.
A man in a grey suit stood outside, official-looking and out of place in the misty morning quiet.
"Good morning, ma'am. Department of Domestic Welfare," he said, flashing a badge. "I won't take much of your time."
Lysaria stepped out instinctively, blocking his view of the house.
"How can I help you?"
"We're doing rounds to ensure compliance with the new youth education mandate," the man said, glancing at his clipboard. "All minors under eighteen are to be officially enrolled in school before the end of the month. It's a national effort. Holistic development, reintegration after the global economic reset, yadda yadda. You know the speech."
She didn't respond.
"You have a registered dependent listed as Sylvia Evermoor. Age sixteen."
"She's homeschooled," Lysaria said quietly.
"Homeschooled teens still need to be enrolled in a verified system now. Public or private. It's mandatory."
He handed her a paper. "Here's the list of accredited schools in the county. Best to act fast, or the family board might make the decision for you."
With that, he tipped his head and walked back to his vehicle, tires crunching the gravel as he pulled away.
Lysaria closed the door slowly, staring at the paper.
Sylvia leaned against the hallway wall, arms folded, having heard everything. Her heart thundered—not from fear, but from hope.
"So… it's real?" she asked.
"Yes," Lysaria replied tightly.
"Then this is it," Sylvia whispered. "My chance."
Lysaria turned to face her. "This is dangerous. You don't know the things I've protected you from. The people searching."
"Maybe I don't," Sylvia said softly, "but I know this isn't living. You keep saying I have to stay safe. But what's the point of staying alive if I never get to live?"
Lysaria was silent.
"You always promised I'd have a choice one day," Sylvia added. "I think this is that day."
The tension held between them like an invisible thread, humming faintly with unspoken truths and the ancient weight of fate.
Lysaria shook her head firmly. "No, you don't understand the gravity of what you're asking. It's not safe for any of us out there."
"But you go out all the time," Sylvia replied, irritation creeping into her voice.
"Yes, but not because I want to—because I have to. And I do it cautiously," Lysaria said, throwing her hands up in frustration, trying to make Sylvia understand.
"So what are you planning to do?" Sylvia asked, her voice calm—eerily calm, like the stillness before a storm.
"I hate to say this, but... we're moving," Lysaria admitted. "Good thing I had some passports ready."
"That's it? We're just going to run away again like always?" Sylvia's voice cracked, barely holding back her emotion.
"I can't stand you," she managed to say through tightly held-back tears before turning and bolting up the stairs.
Lysaria exhaled slowly, watching her go. She was hurting too. Torn between keeping Sylvia safe and giving her the normal life she longed for. But 'normal' had never existed for them—not since the day Sylvia was born.
And she could feel it—a storm was coming. And it wouldn't matter how ready she thought she was.
Back in her room, Sylvia lay staring at the ceiling. Crying felt pointless. It always had.
Yesterday, when she saw that post online, she'd dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would finally change. But she'd been wrong. Or so she thought.
---
Time passed. Evening settled in. A knock came at the door. It could only be one person.
Sylvia rolled her eyes.
"Come in," she said. Not that she really had a choice.
"I've been thinking about what we discussed this morning. And after giving it some thought, I agree." Lysaria started immediately she sat on her bed.
On hearing the new information, Sylvia who once wore a sour expression sat up with an expectant smile her eyes glinting in anticipation.
"Really, Aunt?" She asked for confirmation.
And after a short silence which seemed like a year to Sylvia, Lysaria finally nodded, though her lips were pressed thin.
"If we do this," she said, "we do it carefully. You'll have to hide what you are—completely. No magic. No slips."
Sylvia smiled through the fire in her chest. It felt like she'd finally inhaled after holding her breath for years.
"Deal."
That night, Sylvia turned restlessly unable to sleep out of sheer excitement and thrill. Something told her that this simple act of finally leaving the four walls of their little home was going to change her life forever.
She looked at the green eyes in her most recent painting and pondered, just as she had many nights before, whether it would accompany her back to her dream world. That mysterious place visited only in sleep, where echoes of her art often came alive in ways reality could never quite capture.
The eyes stared back at her now—vivid, haunting, almost aware—and she couldn't help but wonder if the owner of that pair of eyes actually existed. Either way, she was soon going to find out.