When morning came, Astraea could feel the shift the moment she woke. The quiet hum beneath her skin had strengthened overnight, threads of her power slowly weaving themselves back together. By her own estimation, she had regained perhaps a quarter of her full strength—enough to sustain herself without exhaustion, but still far from her peak.
She rose from the bed and crossed to the window. The early Forks mist clung to the trees like pale veils, and the air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth. She drew in a slow breath, letting the ambient Aether of this world settle deeper into her core.
Her recovery was progressing, but she would need more. Much more.
From here, the astral presence was still a steady pulse in the distance—an echo that had not faded since the moment she arrived. Whatever was causing it, she needed to find it.
Tilting her head slightly, Astraea listened for signs of the two humans stirring. Footsteps. Doors. Voices.
Nothing. Good.
She unlatched the window and pushed it open, the cool morning air brushing her face. Without hesitation, she stepped onto the sill and leapt down into the damp grass below, landing in near silence.
Her bare feet pressed lightly into the earth as she crossed the yard and slipped into the tree line. The forest was quiet in that particular way mornings could be—where even the birds seemed to pause, waiting for the sun to fully rise.
The astral pulse tugged at her senses, faint yet insistent, guiding her deeper. Each step carried her farther from the Swan residence, the air growing cooler and the light dimmer under the dense canopy.
She let her awareness drift outward, threads of her remaining power brushing across the land. Roots shifted minutely beneath the soil, as though acknowledging her passage.
The pulse sharpened. It was close—closer than she had thought.
Astraea's pace quickened, and the forest began to change. The trees here grew taller, older, their bark streaked with silver lichen. The ground sloped downward toward a shallow ravine where mist clung stubbornly to the undergrowth.
She stopped at the edge, gazing into the swirling fog.
Astraea descended into the ravine, guided by the faint pulse only she could sense. Mist clung to the hollow, coiling around her ankles as if to ward her away.
She crouched low, brushing aside damp moss. The earth here felt different—denser, older. Power leaked from beneath it in slow, steady waves. Closing her eyes, she traced a quick sigil into the air. The soil trembled, parting just enough for a dull glimmer to emerge.
Her fingers found it: a fragment of blackened crystal, warm to the touch despite the cool morning air. Lines of power etched across its surface in a pattern she didn't recognize. She brushed away the dirt and saw it clearly—an emblem carved deep into the stone.
A spiral star encircled by seven smaller stars.
The moment she looked at it, a vision bled into her mind. A lone figure, cloaked in weathered black, knelt in this same ravine centuries ago. Their face was hidden, their gloved hands cradling the crystal as if it were alive. They pressed it into the earth with deliberate care, whispering a phrase in a language so ancient even Astraea could not place it.
Before burying it completely, the figure paused and looked toward something unseen—like they were aware of being watched across time.
The vision broke.
Astraea stared down at the crystal, unsettled. The emblem meant nothing to her, yet it tugged at something deep in her core, a thread she couldn't name. She turned it over in her palm, feeling the faint warmth pulse in rhythm with her own heartbeat.
Her recovery quickened—the fragment's energy seeping into her, sharpening her senses—but the sense of familiarity without memory was worse than ignorance.
She did not remember the figure. She did not remember the emblem. She did not remember… why it should matter.
The morning light crept into the ravine, glinting off the carved spiral star. Whoever placed this here had meant for her to find it.
And now she had.
Astraea closed her fingers around the crystal, its faint heat seeping into her skin. Whatever it was, she couldn't risk leaving it behind. Slipping it into the folds of her tunic, she let the earth seal itself once more, erasing all trace of her excavation.
The sun was climbing higher now—too much light for her liking. She moved through the trees without sound, the forest shifting around her as if eager to keep her hidden.
When the house came into view, she didn't approach the door. Instead, she stopped just beyond the back fence, glancing up at the second-story window of the room she'd been given.
A subtle breath of air stirred her hair as she stepped upward into nothingness. Her feet left the ground, her body rising with slow, deliberate grace. She ascended until she hovered level with the window, her shadow passing over the glass like a ghost.
A flick of her fingers unlatched the lock from the inside. The pane slid open without a sound, and she glided through, landing lightly on the carpet.
The crystal's warmth throbbed once in her palm before fading, as if settling into silence.
She glanced toward the bed, noting the undisturbed blankets. Hearing no disturbance around the house told her neither human had stirred. Good.
For now, the fragment would remain her secret.
She tucked the crystal safely away, hidden beneath a loose floorboard she'd quietly lifted and replaced.
Astraea smoothed the blankets on the bed so it appeared she had never left. Then, deciding that returning to stillness would waste the time she had regained, she slipped from the room and descended the stairs.
The house was silent—no sound of footsteps, no clink of dishes. The air smelled faintly of coffee grounds from the night before.
She moved into the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers with methodical precision, taking stock of what this household considered food. Eggs, bread, cheese, a few vegetables, and something called "bacon." The scent of it was heavy with salt and smoke, but she remembered Charlie's fondness for it from his own memories.
With practiced efficiency, she set about preparing the meal. The skillet hissed to life, the eggs beaten and poured, the bacon curling and crisping. Bread browned in the toaster, releasing a warm, simple aroma. She moved quietly, the rhythm of cooking oddly soothing.
By the time the first soft rays of sunlight reached through the window above the sink, the table was set for three—plates arranged neatly, silverware aligned, steam rising from the food.
The soft clatter of dishes filled the kitchen as Astraea plated the last of the eggs, her expression lighter than the night before. Her movements were still graceful, but there was a faint hum to them now—an almost content rhythm.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. A moment later, Charlie stepped into the doorway, hair messy, shirt untucked, looking every bit like a man who'd just rolled out of bed. He stopped short when he saw her.
"You… cooked?" he asked, blinking at the sight of the table already set—scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee steaming gently in the morning light.
Astraea turned to him with a small, warm smile. "Yes. It seemed… fitting to return the kindness you showed me."
Charlie scratched his jaw, clearly not used to seeing strangers in his kitchen making a home-style breakfast. "You didn't have to do all this."
"I wanted to," she said simply, her voice softer now, carrying a trace of sincerity that hadn't been there the night before. "It felt… nice."
His brow furrowed, but in a gentler way than usual. "Guess I'm not gonna argue with a good breakfast." He moved toward the coffee pot, giving her a sideways glance. "So, you always get up before dawn and make a full spread, or is this a special occasion?"
Astraea gave a faint laugh, tilting her head. "Only when I feel like it. Today… I felt like it."
That answer—and the almost playful glint in her eyes—was enough to make Charlie shake his head with a quiet chuckle. He poured himself coffee, still watching her with curiosity.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs broke the quiet hum of the kitchen. Bella shuffled in, hair still slightly damp from a shower, looking more awake than the day before. She slowed when she saw the table, her eyes moving from the steaming plates to the girl standing beside them.
Astraea glanced up from setting down a dish, and for the first time since arriving, her lips curved into a genuine smile—small, but unmistakable.
"Good morning," Astraea said, her tone lighter, almost warm.
Bella blinked. "Uh… morning. Did you… make all this?"
"Yes," Astraea replied, her eyes meeting Bella's with an openness she hadn't shown before. "You looked like you could use a better start to the day."
Bella hesitated, caught off guard. "Thanks. That's… really nice of you." She sat down, still processing the sight of the strange, ethereal girl smiling in her kitchen.
Charlie raised his coffee cup in Astraea's direction. "Told you—she would be freaked out."
Astraea only let her smile linger a moment longer before turning back to her plate, but the faint warmth in her eyes didn't fade.
Bella took a bite, glancing at Astraea from the corner of her eye. The girl moved with a quiet precision, each motion deliberate—like she was used to doing everything with purpose. There was nothing awkward in the way she carried herself. If anything, she seemed too composed for someone who had just shown up in the middle of the road last night.
Between bites, Bella asked, "So… where are you from?"
Astraea didn't look up immediately. "Far from here."
"Like… another country far? Or…?"
Astraea finally met her gaze, her expression unreadable, but not unfriendly. "A place you wouldn't find on your maps."
Bella let out a small, humorless laugh. "Right. Mysterious."
Charlie sipped his coffee but didn't comment, clearly sensing there was more going on here than either of them understood.
Bella's curiosity prickled sharper. Astraea spoke perfect English—well, now she did—yet Charlie said she'd been in the middle of the road looking dead. She had the posture of someone trained for something… not normal. And then there was her hair, colors that didn't quite look dyed under the morning light.
Bella decided she'd keep watching her. Something told her this girl wasn't just passing through.
Charlie set his coffee mug down. "You know," he said, glancing between the two, "she looks about your age, Bells. Maybe a year older at most."
Bella raised an eyebrow, but Charlie continued, "That means you could probably go to school together. It'd give her something to do while we figure things out."
Astraea tilted her head slightly. "School," she repeated, as if tasting the word. He had mentioned it the other day, but there was no further mention of it later. She had to admit, it intrigued her.
Charlie gave a half-shrug. "Yeah. Classes, teachers, all that. Small place like Forks, you'd fit in easy enough. Well… easier than just sitting around here all day."
Astraea considered this, her expression softening into something that could almost pass for curiosity. "Perhaps," she said quietly.
While the two humans returned to their breakfast, Astraea let her awareness brush against their thoughts—lightly, so as not to disturb. Images and impressions surfaced in her mind: narrow hallways lined with lockers, paper assignments, teachers droning at the front of cramped rooms, the occasional burst of whispered gossip between students.
From Charlie, she caught the perspective of a parent—school as a safe place, a routine to keep a kid grounded. From Bella, however, the memories felt heavier. Crowds that pressed too close, eyes that lingered too long, a quiet longing for the clock to run faster.
It was… interesting. This "school" was not simply a place of learning. It was a web of rules, social currents, and unspoken games.
Astraea tilted her head, the corner of her mouth twitching in faint intrigue. 'Perhaps there is more to observe here than I thought.'
She set her fork down with deliberate grace. "Very well," she said, meeting Charlie's gaze. "I will go to this school."
Charlie blinked, a little surprised at how easily she agreed. "Alright then. I'll talk to the office today, see about getting you registered. You, uh… look about Bella's age, so it shouldn't be a problem."
Bella glanced up from her plate, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "You've never been to a school like ours before?"
"No," Astraea replied simply. "But I will adapt." The certainty in her tone carried a quiet finality, as if the matter was already settled.
Charlie nodded, still processing how quickly this stranger was sliding into their lives. "Alright. We'll start tomorrow, then."