Her screams still echoed in my ears.
The same nightmare returned. Her hands reached for me, pleading, clutching at the air—then vanished.
Cut off, like wings severed just before flight. And I couldn't save her.
My breath caught as my eyes snapped open. A wave of heat surged through me, as if my body fought against a memory that refused to let go.
Night after night—and still, it held on.
I touched my right arm. The place she'd grabbed me in the dream… burned. Not really. Absent. But something lingered there—a trace—a ghost.
"Amelia!" My mother's voice. Not from the nightmare—from real life.
"I hope you're up for school!"
Sierra. My adoptive mother.
Her voice pierced the silence like a beam of light, forcing its way through a crack.
I sighed, weary, dragging myself out of the shadows within me. My bare feet met the cold floor, a shiver rising my spine.
Light spilled through the blinds, filling the room with a stubborn gray. It didn't care whether I was ready for the morning.
The air carried the damp scent of green, like the forest after a storm.
I reached for the stack of books on my nightstand and opened one without looking. My eyes landed on a familiar page—the main character leaving everything behind. And it hurt.
Not because of her, but because of me.
I remembered my dog, back when I was still human. His wagging tail. Soft eyes. Warm breath on cold nights.
He was the last one who loved me when I was just a girl, as if I were the one left behind.
And my heart… It no longer remembered what it should feel like. Maybe it forgot.
Maybe it chose to forget.
I wiped my tears away. No time for this. Just another morning. Another mask.
The same battle as yesterday.
I drew a deep breath—one last piece of silence—and pressed play on my phone.
Piano notes filled the room, wrapping around the walls, cradling my chest.
A quiet rhythm that kept me from breaking apart.
Hot water. Clean clothes. Toothbrush.
Everything felt rushed, as if moving quickly enough could prevent the memories from catching up.
I grabbed my bag, shoes, and myself—and left.
Downstairs, Sierra was in the kitchen.
The sweet smell of coffee, melting chocolate, and fresh bread told me she was making comfort food.
"Something happened?" she asked, eyes narrowing.
"I'm fine," I said—a practiced lie.
She didn't buy it.
"You don't look fine."
Silence.
She placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of me. The steam curled upward, slow and fragile—like thoughts that refused to fade.
"I usually listen to music or read before bed to dream better," I mumbled.
"But… it doesn't work anymore."
She gave a slight nod. "Maybe write it down. Sometimes, words set us free."
Her words settled over me like calm rain.
Maybe… she was right.
But before I could overthink, she changed the subject.
"You're starting at Grand Ridge High today."
I raised an eyebrow.
"In the last three hundred years, I've seen every high school possible—twice."
"And you know that doesn't matter. You look seventeen."
She hesitated, glanced at me, and then said in a soft voice, "You're not just anyone, Amelia."
My heart skipped a beat.
What did she know about me that I didn't?
"Have a good first day," she whispered, turning away. But I saw it—her hand trembling as she set the mug in the sink.
Her gaze lingered on me just a second too long.
There was something unsaid in her eyes—something hidden. Maybe always hidden.
And it burned my throat worse than the cocoa.
She walked over and gave me a quick hug. A short touch—but not empty. The kind of hug that tries to hold more than it's allowed.
The ride was quiet. The radio played an old concerto—classical music drifting between memory and reality.
We sat in a black Jeep with cracked leather seats, carrying the soft scent of vanilla—Sierra's scent.
I watched raindrops race each other down the window.
"Why mix humans and supernaturals?" I asked.
"Wars," she answered. "We're trying to build equality. A world where they won't hunt you."
I inhaled.
"And what if someone gets hurt?"
"They choose what to study—human, supernatural, or both. They're protected. And you—you have the freedom to choose."
But this time… something felt different.
Sierra looked worried. Not her usual worry—a deeper kind.
We arrived.
Grand Ridge.
The place where everything would change.
A massive sign: Grand Ridge—School for the Threshold Dwellers.
The building rose like a stone temple that had swallowed a storm and survived.
Wild, sharp lines. Like a scar.
It looked like it had been waiting for me.
Like I was the wind meant to breathe it to life—or burn it down.
It towered between rain-drenched trees, the forest wrapping around it like a guard.
A tightness gripped my chest. My heartbeat quickened.
What stood before me wasn't just a school; it was the line between who I had been and who I was about to become.
And despite the fear, a part of me hoped.
Maybe this time… things would be different.
I stood there. Breathed. Almost turned back.
But no. One step—and the building swallowed me whole.
"Try two months," she said. "If it doesn't work, we'll talk."
"And if it doesn't?"
"I'll walk away."
"Fair… Give it a chance."
The last time I walked into a new place, I left with another nightmare.
What was waiting for me here?
Only when I crossed the threshold did I feel it: this wasn't a regular high school.
The hallway was a different world.
Fairies hovered, wings glimmering.
A goblin melted into the shape of a mouse—then snapped back.
A vampire played guitar, his fingers bleeding.
The air reeked of magic, dust… and old blood.
Cold wrapped around me. Voices whispered—languages I didn't recognize.
My heart pounded. My knees shook. For a moment, I wanted to turn back.
Back to cocoa.
Back to my imagined routine.
But I walked.
"There," someone whispered.
Something pulled me.
I peeked through a window in one of the doors—a boy with sandy hair.
Then—a hand on my shoulder.
I turned with urgency and determination. Sierra.
"I've got this."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
But inside, I felt like a girl sent to slay a dragon—without a sword.
One deep breath. One last bit of quiet.
"Yeah. Totally. What could go wrong?"
She kissed my cheek and walked away.
Her eyes lingered just a moment too long.
And in that moment… I knew.
She didn't expect me to come back the same.
I turned—and collided with someone.
"Watch where you're going," I snapped.
He smiled.
Black-glinting eyes. Dark hair. A smile is too easy.
"I'm guessing you're new—judging by how you talk to your teacher."
"Teacher?" I arched a brow.
"Oliver." He held out his hand.
What did he see in me when I smiled like that?
His hand was too warm. Like after a fight. Like a warning. Like quiet fire.
Something in me recoiled. And at the same time, something else softened.
He carried a presence that frightened me. Something too familiar.
"Be careful how you speak to your teacher," he whispered.
His voice moved through me like a shadowy wave.
The back of my neck prickled. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My skin trembled—as if my body remembered what my mind tried to forget.
My hand twitched in an involuntary tremor.
I didn't know whether I wanted to run from him or step closer.
There was something about him—something not human.
And even though I didn't know him, deep in my gut, I knew this meeting would change everything.
He stepped back. But his eyes lingered.
"We'll be seeing more of each other. Up close."
And what waited for me wasn't just a school.
It was the beginning of the end.