Luna
After brunch, Dad and I took the long way home through town. It wasn't planned, just something unspoken between us. Like neither of us wanted to go back to the quiet house just yet.
Main Street felt like a snapshot from another life—window boxes overflowing with early spring blooms, kids riding bikes past the bakery, and the same old woman sweeping the steps of her antique store like time hadn't touched her.
"Still think vinyl's outdated?" I asked, nudging his arm as we passed The Howl & Needle.
He scoffed. "If it didn't sound like someone dragging a fork across a chalkboard, maybe."
I rolled my eyes. "You're just old."
"I'm experienced," he said, but the way his lips twitched told me he was grateful for the distraction.
We wandered into the model train shop next. Dad lit up explaining all the different gauges and engines to a disinterested teenager behind the counter, and I watched him with a strange ache in my chest. For a moment, he looked like the dad I remembered. Not the haunted version who kept secrets behind his eyes.
But even here, normal didn't last.
I caught him watching me when he thought I wasn't looking—his expression caught somewhere between awe and fear. Like he was waiting for something in me to break.
---
Luna
Later that afternoon, we ended up in the kitchen. Dad was chopping vegetables for dinner like we weren't both dancing around things we didn't want to say. I leaned against the counter, trying to act normal, like the humming silence wasn't suffocating.
"You used to hum when you cooked," I said after a moment.
He paused. "Did I?"
"Mom told me once. Said you did it every time you made stew."
A faint smile tugged at the edge of his lips. "She liked the dumbest songs."
I smiled too. But it faded when I looked down at my hands.
There—faint, like the memory of a burn—was the same symbol I'd seen in my dreams. Etched in pale silver against the base of my left wrist, glowing just enough to make me doubt whether I was seeing it at all.
I rolled down my sleeves and shoved my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.
"Everything okay?" Dad asked.
I nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just... tired."
He didn't press. But his gaze lingered, thoughtful and unreadable, before he went back to chopping carrots like nothing had shifted.
---
Caelum Graves
Silverwoods PD felt different after dark.
Samuels stood by the window, arms folded, his silhouette half-soaked in fading light. I placed the latest incident report on his desk without a word.
"We need to talk," I said.
He didn't turn. "About the school again?"
"Yes. And about the girl."
Finally, he turned, face weary but sharp. "Luna is none of your business."
"She became my business the second *they* took interest. You know what the signs mean, Samuels. The symbol. The dreams. The quiet awakening."
He exhaled through his nose. "She's just a kid."
"No," I said evenly. "She was. But now she's something else. Something they've waited for."
His jaw clenched. "Don't you think I know that? Every time I look at her, I wonder when I'll lose her too."
I let the silence settle between us.
"She needs guidance," I said gently. "When the time comes, you won't be enough to protect her. You're her father, but you're still just a man."
Samuels looked down at his hands. "You think I don't know what's coming?"
"I think you've been trying not to."
---
Luna
Camille arrived just after sunset with two milkshakes and a bag of fries.
"Movie night part two?" she said like nothing had happened.
"You're early," I said, eyebrows raised.
"Figured you'd be bored without me." She grinned and brushed past me. "And also, I'm starving."
We picked the dumbest rom-com we could find, the kind where the girl trips into the guy's arms and they fall in love over coffee.
It was awful.
Which made it perfect.
I actually laughed a couple times. It felt strange, like my body had forgotten how to let go.
She watched me when she thought I wasn't paying attention. Not in a weird way—just... carefully.
After the movie ended, she got quiet. "You've been different since the coma," she said finally.
"I feel like I'm walking around in someone else's life," I admitted. "Like I came back wrong."
"You're still you."
I looked at her. "What if I'm not?"
She reached over and squeezed my hand. "Then I'll still be here while you figure it out. No matter what."
---
Ethan
I took the long way home.
It wasn't planned. But my feet led me there anyway—past the diner, past the bakery, past the house with the chipped green shutters.
Her house.
The light was on in the living room. I saw movement—just a flash of her silhouette as she laughed and tossed a pillow at her friend.
Something tightened in my chest.
I wasn't supposed to care. I barely knew her. But whatever this was between us—it pulled.
And no matter how much I told myself it was nothing...
I knew it wasn't.
---
Rena
The moon hung high like a silent witness.
I sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection. My fingers brushed the necklace at my throat, the one I never took off. It pulsed once—soft, warm.
She was awakening.
She didn't know what she was yet.
But she would.
And when she did... everything would change.
---
Luna
After Camille passed out on the couch, I padded upstairs barefoot. My room was dim and still.
The sketchbook on my desk was open.
The symbol stared up at me from the page like it had been waiting.
But this time... I wasn't afraid of it.
I traced my fingers lightly over the lines. My skin tingled, and just for a second, the mark on my hand glowed again—subtle, silver, fading just as fast.
I didn't understand it.
But I felt it.
And maybe that was enough for now.
I crawled into bed and pulled the blanket up to my chin.
Even if I didn't have answers...
For tonight, I had silence.
And sleep.