The industrial-sized espresso machine hissed like an angry serpent as steam billowed through the pre-dawn darkness of Ember & Love's kitchen. Marcus Knight-Montez moved with the practiced efficiency of a man who'd spent twenty years channeling supernatural precision into mundane tasks, his weathered hands dancing between prep stations laden with ingredients from every corner of the globe. The scent of chorizo sizzling alongside Japanese miso paste and Indian garam masala created an olfactory symphony that had made their restaurant the crown jewel of Silverwood's dining scene.
"Jazz, if you don't get your ass down here in the next thirty seconds, you're walking to school!" Elena's voice carried the authority of a woman who'd managed both teenagers and paying customers for the better part of two decades, her slight Puerto Rican accent thickening with maternal frustration.
"I'm coming, Mami!" Jazz's voice drifted down from their apartment above the restaurant, followed immediately by the sound of something crashing to the floor. "Shit!"
"Language, mija!" Elena called back, though Marcus caught the slight smile tugging at her lips as she whisked eggs for the breakfast crowd that would arrive in two hours.
The twins thundered down the narrow staircase that connected their living space to the restaurant, Alex still buttoning his Silverwood Academy polo while Joaquin attempted to tame his perpetually unruly black hair with increasingly frustrated swipes of his palm.
"Why do we have to get lunch from downstairs when literally every other kid just buys cafeteria food?" Alex grumbled, his green eyes still heavy with sleep as he surveyed the organized chaos of the professional kitchen.
"Because cafeteria food tastes like cardboard soaked in disappointment," Marcus replied without looking up from the paella station, where he was carefully arranging chorizo and prawns in perfect geometric patterns. "And because your mother would literally murder me if I let you eat that processed garbage when we have perfectly good jamón ibérico sitting right here."
"Besides," Elena added, sliding a container of homemade gazpacho into Alex's lunch bag alongside a selection of patatas bravas and croquetas, "you three are growing kids. You need real nutrition, not whatever chemical experiment they're passing off as food at that school."
Jazz finally appeared at the bottom of the stairs, her chocolate-brown hair pulled back in the kind of effortlessly perfect ponytail that took her exactly forty-seven minutes to achieve. Her Silverwood Sirens cheer uniform was immaculate, every pleat pressed to razor sharpness, but Marcus noticed the way her hazel eyes darted nervously around the kitchen.
"Did everyone remember what we talked about?" Marcus's voice dropped to a whisper, his gaze moving between his three children with the intensity of a man who'd learned to fear his own legacy. "About keeping things... normal?"
"Jesus, Dad, we're not idiots," Joaquin muttered, though his fingers unconsciously moved to touch the small silver pendant hidden beneath his shirt collar. "No magic, no powers, no wands. We get it."
"I'm serious, Phoenix." Marcus's use of Joaquin's nickname carried weight that made all three teenagers straighten unconsciously. "What happened last week with the pool thermometer—"
"Was an accident," Alex interrupted, his voice carrying a defensive edge that reminded Marcus uncomfortably of his own teenage years. "I told you, I was just really stressed about the chemistry test."
"Stressed enough to make the water temperature spike fifteen degrees in thirty seconds?" Elena's voice was carefully neutral, but Marcus caught the way her knuckles whitened around the wooden spoon she was holding. Twenty years of marriage to a former wizard had taught her to recognize magical incidents even when she didn't fully understand them.
"It was a malfunction," Jazz said quickly, moving to stand slightly in front of her younger brothers in a gesture that spoke to protective instincts Marcus recognized all too well. "The maintenance guy said those old systems are temperamental."
Marcus studied his eldest daughter's face, seeing his own stubborn streak reflected in the set of her jaw. At eighteen, Jazz had inherited not just his magical potential but also his talent for creative truth-telling. The pool incident hadn't been Alex's first slip in control, and they all knew it.
"Look, I don't care what the maintenance guy said," Marcus continued, his voice taking on the authority that had once commanded respect in magical circles across three continents. "You three need to understand that what runs in our family... it's not gone. It's sleeping. And if it wakes up at the wrong moment, around the wrong people—"
"We could end up like Uncle Tony?" The words slipped from Alex's lips before he could stop them, and the kitchen fell into the kind of silence that preceded thunderstorms.
Elena's wooden spoon clattered to the floor. Marcus felt something cold and familiar twist in his chest as he stared at his youngest son, seeing his dead twin brother's eyes looking back at him from Alex's seventeen-year-old face.
"Your uncle Anthony died of cancer," Elena's voice was steady, but Marcus caught the slight tremor in her hands as she bent to retrieve the spoon. "That has nothing to do with anything we're discussing."
"Doesn't it?" Jazz's question was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the kitchen atmosphere like a blade. "Dad, you never talk about before. About why you really gave up... everything."
Marcus closed his eyes, feeling the phantom ache of powers that had once flowed through his veins like molten gold. Twenty years ago, he'd made a choice between magic and love, between the supernatural world that had raised him and the mortal woman who'd captured his heart. He'd thought that transferring his abilities to Henry would be enough, that love could conquer the legacy written into his children's DNA.
"I gave it up because I wanted a normal life," he said finally, opening his eyes to meet Jazz's questioning gaze. "With your mother. With all of you. And normal means keeping certain things buried, no matter what."
"But what if they don't want to stay buried?" Joaquin's voice carried a maturity that made Marcus's chest tighten with pride and fear in equal measure. "What if we can't control it?"
Before Marcus could answer, the restaurant's front door chimed, followed by the sound of familiar voices calling out morning greetings. Elena's face immediately brightened as she wiped her hands on her apron and moved toward the dining room.
"That'll be Jeff and Liam," she announced, relief evident in her voice. "You three better get your lunches and get moving, or you'll be late for first period."
Jeff and Liam Kim entered the kitchen with the easy familiarity of men who'd been part of the Knight-Montez family's daily routine for nearly two decades. Jeff, tall and lean with prematurely gray hair and laugh lines earned through years of dad jokes, immediately gravitated toward the coffee station with the practiced efficiency of a man running on four hours of sleep.
"Morning, sunshine," Jeff called to Marcus, already pouring himself a cup of the restaurant's signature dark roast. "Please tell me you've got some of those chorizo breakfast burritos ready. Liam was up until three working on his presentation, and I need something that'll keep him conscious through the morning commute."
Liam, shorter and stockier than his husband, with the kind of meticulous appearance that spoke to his work as Silverwood's premier architectural firm's lead designer, managed a tired wave as he surveyed the kitchen's organized chaos with professional appreciation.
"You know," Liam said, accepting the travel mug Elena pressed into his hands, "every time I see this setup, I'm amazed you two manage to coordinate this many different cuisines without completely losing your minds."
"Years of practice," Elena replied with a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. "And very detailed prep lists. Marcus has this thing about organization that borders on obsessive-compulsive."
"It's called efficiency," Marcus corrected, though he was already assembling breakfast burritos with the kind of precision that would have impressed his old potion-making instructors. "You can't run a global fusion kitchen without systems."
"Speaking of systems," Jeff said, glancing at his watch, "we need to get these kids moving if they want to make it to school before the tardy bell. Andi's already in the car, and she's getting that look that means she's about to start texting passive-aggressive messages about punctuality."
Jazz grabbed her lunch bag and slung her cheerleading gear over her shoulder, but Marcus noticed the way her movements had a subtle tension that hadn't been there moments earlier. Something about Jeff's mention of Andi had triggered an alertness in his daughter that made his paternal instincts prickle with unease.
"Is everything okay with Andi?" Elena asked, voicing the concern Marcus had been about to express. "She seemed a little... distant when she was here yesterday."
"Teenager stuff," Liam replied with the weary resignation of a man who'd been navigating adolescent drama for years. "You know how it is at seventeen. Everything's either the end of the world or the greatest thing that ever happened. There's no middle ground."
Joaquin and Alex exchanged a look that Marcus recognized as twin telepathy, the kind of silent communication that had concerned him since they were toddlers. The ability to share thoughts wasn't necessarily magical, but in the Knight-Montez bloodline, it often preceded more dramatic supernatural developments.
"We should go," Joaquin announced, grabbing his lunch and gym bag with movements that seemed carefully controlled. "First period starts in twenty minutes, and Coach Martinez said he'd make us run extra laps if anyone's late again."
"Wait," Marcus called as the three teenagers moved toward the kitchen's back exit. "Remember what we discussed. About keeping things..."
"Normal," all three chorused with the exaggerated patience of children who'd heard the same lecture countless times.
But as they filed past him toward the door, Marcus caught Alex's wrist in a gentle but firm grip. His youngest son's skin was fevered, and beneath his palm, Marcus could feel the subtle vibration of power seeking outlet.
"You okay, mijo?" he asked quietly, his voice pitched low enough that Jeff and Liam wouldn't overhear.
Alex's green eyes met his father's, and for a moment, Marcus saw not his seventeen-year-old son but the scared little boy who used to wake up from nightmares about drowning in oceans that existed only in his dreams.
"I'm fine, Dad," Alex replied, but his voice carried the slight tremor that Marcus had learned to associate with supernatural suppression. "Just nervous about the chemistry test."
"Chemistry, right." Marcus released his son's wrist but kept his gaze steady. "Remember what I taught you about breathing exercises."
"Breathing exercises?" Jeff's voice carried curious amusement. "That's pretty progressive parenting, Marcus. Most dads just tell their kids to suck it up."
"Different times," Marcus replied carefully. "Kids today have more stress than we did. Anxiety management is important."
Elena appeared at his elbow, her hand finding his in a gesture of support that had sustained him through two decades of navigating the intersection between his former magical life and their chosen mundane existence.
"They'll be fine," she murmured, though Marcus caught the uncertainty in her voice. "They're good kids. Smart kids. They know how to handle themselves."
"Do they?" The question slipped out before Marcus could stop it, and he immediately regretted the flash of fear he saw cross Elena's face.
"Of course they do," Liam interjected, apparently oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room. "Jazz is practically running that school, Phoenix has college recruiters calling every week, and Alex... well, Alex has that artistic temperament that'll serve him well when he figures out what he wants to do with it."
"Artistic temperament," Marcus repeated, the phrase sitting uneasily in his mind. In magical families, "artistic temperament" was often code for "unpredictable magical manifestations."
"You know what I mean," Liam continued, warming to his subject in the way he did when discussing things he found intellectually interesting. "He sees patterns other people miss, makes connections that seem random but turn out to be brilliant. That's a gift, not a problem."
Marcus exchanged a look with Elena, recognizing the same thought in her eyes. In their son, pattern recognition and intuitive connections could be signs of precognitive abilities awakening. The kind of gifts that had once marked the Knight family as one of the most powerful magical lineages in North America.
"We really do need to get moving," Jeff announced, draining the last of his coffee and setting the mug in the dish return with practiced ease. "Andi texted twice while we were talking, and the second one was just a string of angry face emojis."
"Tell Andi we'll be right there," Jazz called, though she lingered by the kitchen door as if reluctant to leave. "And tell her I didn't forget about the thing we discussed yesterday."
Marcus felt his eyebrows rise at the cryptic message, but before he could ask for clarification, Jazz had followed her brothers out the back door. The sound of the Kims' SUV doors slamming echoed through the pre-dawn quiet, followed by the rumble of the engine starting.
"Those kids are growing up too fast," Elena murmured, moving to stand beside Marcus at the kitchen window that offered a view of the restaurant's back parking lot.
Through the glass, Marcus watched Jeff navigate the SUV through the narrow alley that connected their property to Silverwood's main thoroughfare. In the vehicle's interior lights, he could see the silhouettes of his children alongside Andi Kim, the girl who'd been Jazz's best friend since childhood and Joaquin's girlfriend for the past eight months.
What he couldn't see, but somehow sensed with instincts he'd thought were dormant, was the subtle shimmer of magical energy that seemed to pulse around the SUV like heat waves rising from summer asphalt.
"Elena," he said quietly, his voice carrying a gravity that made his wife turn to study his profile. "What do you know about Andi's family? Really know, I mean."
"Jeff and Liam?" Elena's tone carried surprise. "Honey, they've been our neighbors for eighteen years. We know everything about them. Jeff's an accountant, Liam's an architect, they've been together since college, they adopted Andi when she was three months old. They're good people, Marcus. Solid people."
"I know they are," Marcus replied, though something in his gut was telling him that there were layers to the Kim family that he'd never considered. "I'm not questioning their character. I'm just... wondering about things we might not know."
"Like what?"
Marcus hesitated, knowing that voicing his suspicions would mean acknowledging possibilities he'd spent twenty years trying to avoid. But as the SUV's taillights disappeared around the corner, carrying his children toward whatever waited for them at Silverwood Academy, he found himself unable to shake the feeling that their carefully constructed normal life was balanced on the edge of a precipice.
"Like why Andi never seems surprised by the weird things that happen around our kids," he said finally. "Like why she's always there right before something strange occurs. Like why a seventeen-year-old girl has the kind of situational awareness that would make professional bodyguards jealous."
Elena was quiet for a long moment, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the window glass that left no marks but somehow reminded Marcus of the protective sigils his grandmother used to draw in the air when she thought no one was watching.
"You think she knows," Elena said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "About... about what you used to be. About what the kids might become."
"I think," Marcus replied carefully, "that there are things about our life here that might not be as coincidental as we've always assumed. And I think that maybe, after twenty years of pretending the magical world doesn't exist, it's time I started paying attention to the signs I've been ignoring."
Elena turned to face him fully, her dark eyes reflecting the kind of steel that had first attracted him to her all those years ago in that little café in San Juan where they'd met during his self-imposed exile from supernatural society.
"What are you saying, Marcus?"
He met her gaze, feeling the weight of twenty years of careful secrecy pressing against his chest like a physical force. In the distance, the first bells of Silverwood Academy began their morning call, carrying his children toward a day that suddenly felt fraught with possibilities he'd spent two decades trying to prevent.
"I'm saying that maybe it's time I called Henry," Marcus replied, the words feeling like both surrender and relief. "And maybe it's time we started preparing for the possibility that our normal life isn't as normal as we thought."
Elena nodded slowly, her hand finding his again as steam rose from the espresso machine and the morning prep crew began arriving through the restaurant's front entrance. Another day at Ember & Love was beginning, with its familiar rhythm of service and community and the comforting predictability of feeding people who thought magic was something that only existed in movies.
But as Marcus began assembling the morning's first orders, his hands moving through practiced motions while his mind raced with possibilities he'd tried to forget, he couldn't shake the feeling that this might be the last normal morning his family would ever have.
The industrial kitchen hummed around them, filled with the sounds and scents of a dozen different culinary traditions blending into something uniquely their own. It was beautiful and chaotic and exactly what they'd built together over twenty years of marriage and partnership.
It was also, Marcus was beginning to suspect, about to change in ways that would test every choice they'd made and every truth they'd told themselves about the kind of life they were living.
But for now, there were breakfast orders to fill and customers to serve and the reassuring normalcy of another morning at the restaurant that had become their sanctuary from the supernatural world that had shaped Marcus's first thirty years of life.
For now, that would have to be enough.
The interior of Jeff Kim's SUV carried the familiar scent of vanilla air freshener and the faint aroma of the breakfast burritos Marcus had pressed into their hands as they'd rushed out of Ember & Love. Jazz claimed shotgun with the practiced efficiency of the eldest sibling, while the twins settled into the middle row, their movements still carrying the careful control that had become second nature over the past few months.
Andi Kim sat in the back row, her sleek black hair pulled into a ponytail that somehow managed to look effortlessly perfect despite the early hour. At seventeen, she possessed the kind of natural poise that made her equally comfortable commanding attention as Joaquin's girlfriend and blending seamlessly into the background when circumstances required discretion.
"Finally," she said, though her tone carried more affection than irritation as the SUV pulled out of the restaurant's back lot. "I was starting to think you three were going to make us late on the first day of senior year."
"Junior year," Alex corrected automatically. "Phoenix and I are still juniors, remember? We're not ancient like you two."
"Ancient?" Jazz twisted in her seat to fix her younger brother with a mock glare. "I'll show you ancient when I tell Coach Martinez that you're the one who's been leaving wet towels all over the pool deck."
"That's not me, that's Thompson from JV," Alex protested. "I actually have respect for shared spaces."
"Sure you do," Joaquin chimed in, his voice carrying the particular brand of sarcasm that only twins could perfect. "That's why Mom found three moldy plates under your bed last week."
"Those weren't moldy, they were... developing character."
Jeff's laughter from the driver's seat interrupted their familiar sibling banter. "You three sound exactly like Liam and his brothers used to. Some things never change, no matter how many generations you skip."
"Speaking of things that never change," Liam added from the passenger seat, "did your parents seem a little... intense this morning? More than usual, I mean."
Jazz felt her muscles tense involuntarily, though she forced her expression to remain neutral. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know," Liam continued, adjusting his seatbelt as Jeff navigated the early morning traffic toward Silverwood Academy. "Your dad had that look he gets when he's trying to solve a particularly complicated recipe problem. And your mom kept checking the time like she was expecting something to happen."
"They're always intense during the morning rush," Joaquin said quickly. "You know how restaurants are. Everything has to be perfect or the whole day falls apart."
Andi's eyes met Jazz's in the rearview mirror, and Jazz caught the subtle shake of her best friend's head that meant 'not here, not now.' It was a look they'd perfected over years of friendship, but lately it had taken on new urgency as the strange incidents around the Knight-Montez siblings had become increasingly difficult to explain away.
"Besides," Alex added, his voice carrying just the right note of teenage dismissal, "they're probably just worried about the usual stuff. Grades, college applications, whether we're eating enough vegetables. You know, parent things."
"Right," Jeff said, though Jazz caught the slight uncertainty in his voice. "Parent things."
The SUV fell into comfortable silence as they joined the stream of traffic heading toward the academy. Through the windows, Silverwood looked exactly as it had every morning for the past eighteen years – tree-lined streets giving way to the commercial district, early commuters grabbing coffee from the local café, joggers making their determined circuits through the residential neighborhoods.
Normal. Predictable. Safe.
But as Jazz watched the familiar scenery roll past, she couldn't shake the memory of her father's expression when he'd asked about keeping things normal. There had been something in Marcus Knight-Montez's eyes that went beyond typical parental concern, something that spoke to fears he'd never fully articulated to his children.
"Andi," she said quietly, pitching her voice low enough that Jeff and Liam wouldn't overhear over the radio. "We need to talk. About yesterday."
"I know," Andi replied, her own voice barely above a whisper. "But not here."
"What about yesterday?" Joaquin's question carried the particular intensity that meant his protective instincts were engaging. As the older twin by exactly five minutes, he'd appointed himself Alex's guardian, but his relationship with Andi had expanded that protective circle to include her as well.
"Girl stuff," Jazz said quickly. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"Girl stuff that requires secret conversations?" Alex's skepticism was evident in his tone. "Since when do you and Andi have secrets?"
Since three months ago, Jazz thought, when Andi had been the one to find her in the school bathroom, hyperventilating after a particularly vivid episode where her telekinetic abilities had shattered every mirror in the room. Since Andi had somehow known exactly what to say to help her regain control, had somehow produced a story about faulty plumbing that the maintenance staff had accepted without question.
Since Jazz had started suspecting that her best friend knew things about the Knight-Montez family that even they didn't fully understand.
"Everyone has secrets," Andi said philosophically. "Some are just more complicated than others."
Jeff turned down the radio as they approached the academy's main entrance, where the usual morning chaos of student drop-offs was already in full swing. Silverwood Academy sprawled across thirty acres of pristinely maintained grounds, its neo-Gothic architecture lending an air of academic gravitas to what was essentially a very expensive private school catering to the children of Silverwood's professional elite.
"Looks like the construction on the east wing is finally finished," Liam observed, his architectural eye automatically cataloging the changes to the campus since their last visit. "They did a nice job matching the stonework to the original buildings."
"What was that construction for again?" Jazz asked, though something about the new addition made her skin prickle with unease.
"Administrative expansion, I think," Jeff replied, pulling into the drop-off lane behind a line of similar SUVs and luxury sedans. "Principal Blackwood mentioned something about new office space and updated technology infrastructure when I saw him at the town council meeting last month."
Jazz felt Andi shift in the seat behind her, a subtle movement that nonetheless triggered all of her newly awakened instincts for danger. There was something about the mention of Principal Blackwood that had caused her best friend to tense, though Andi's expression remained perfectly neutral.
"Well," Liam announced as they pulled up to the curb, "here we are. Another year of academic excellence and social navigation. Try not to burn the place down."
The casual comment hit Jazz like a physical blow, though she managed to keep her reaction limited to a sharp intake of breath that she hoped sounded like typical teenage anxiety. Burning things down was exactly what she was afraid of – literally, in some cases, given the way her abilities seemed to manifest when her emotions ran high.
"We'll be good," Joaquin said, already unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for his gym bag. "No destruction of property, no international incidents, no bringing shame upon the family name."
"That's all we ask," Jeff replied with a grin. "Well, that and maybe some decent grades. Your parents would kill us if we delivered you to school and you came back with failing report cards."
"No pressure or anything," Alex muttered, but he was smiling as he gathered his lunch and backpack.
Jazz was the last to exit the SUV, pausing at the open door to look back at the two men who had been constant fixtures in her life for as long as she could remember. Jeff and Liam Kim represented stability and normalcy, the kind of uncomplicated family dynamics that she sometimes envied with an intensity that surprised her.
"Thanks for the ride," she said, meaning it more than they could possibly know.
"Anytime, sweetheart," Jeff replied. "Give our love to your parents, and tell your dad we'll stop by for dinner sometime this week. Liam's been craving that mole poblano he makes."
"Will do," Jazz promised, though she wondered if family dinners were going to become significantly more complicated if her father followed through on his threat to contact Uncle Henry.
The SUV pulled away from the curb, joining the stream of departing parents who had successfully delivered their children to another day of academic pursuit. Jazz watched it disappear into traffic before turning to face Silverwood Academy's imposing main entrance, where hundreds of students were engaged in the familiar ritual of morning social positioning.
"Okay," she said quietly, moving closer to Andi while the twins were distracted by greetings from their swim team teammates. "Now we talk."
"Not here," Andi replied, her eyes scanning the crowd with the kind of professional awareness that Jazz had learned to recognize over the past few months. "Too many people, too many variables."
"Variables?" The word choice struck Jazz as oddly formal, the kind of language that suggested training rather than natural teenage caution.
"You know what I mean," Andi said, though her tone suggested that Jazz definitely did not know what she meant, not fully. "Meet me in the east wing after second period. The new construction created some quiet spaces that should work for our purposes."
"What purposes?" Jazz felt frustration building in her chest, along with the familiar warmth that preceded her most dramatic supernatural episodes. "Andi, I need to know what's happening. What you know about what's happening."
"I know that your telekinetic abilities are triggered by emotional stress," Andi said quietly, her voice carrying the kind of calm authority that Jazz had never noticed before. "And I know that having this conversation in the middle of a crowd of potential witnesses would be the worst possible timing for all of us."
Jazz felt the world tilt slightly around her, as if the ground beneath her feet had shifted without warning. Andi's casual acknowledgment of her abilities should have been a relief – finally, someone who knew, someone who understood what she was dealing with.
Instead, it felt like stepping off a cliff into unknown territory.
"How do you know that?" she whispered.
"The same way I know that Alex's water manipulation abilities are getting stronger and harder to control," Andi replied, her gaze moving to where the twins were engaged in animated conversation with their teammates. "The same way I know that Joaquin's fire powers are connected to his emotional state and that all three of you are approaching a crisis point that could expose not just your family but every supernatural individual in Silverwood."
Jazz felt her knees threaten to buckle. "Every supernatural individual?"
"You didn't think your family was the only one, did you?" Andi's question carried genuine surprise. "Jazz, Silverwood has been a haven for magical integration for over a century. Your father giving up his powers and choosing a mortal life wasn't unprecedented – it was part of a long tradition of supernatural individuals choosing love over magical authority."
"But if that's true, then why all the secrecy? Why did Dad make us promise to never use our abilities, never even acknowledge that we had them?"
Andi's expression grew grave, and for the first time since Jazz had known her, she looked every bit of her seventeen years rather than projecting the mature composure that had always made her seem older than her actual age.
"Because," she said quietly, "your family represents something that certain factions in both the supernatural and mortal worlds consider dangerous. Your father's choice to transfer his powers to your uncle while still producing magically gifted children challenges fundamental assumptions about how supernatural abilities work and who has the right to wield them."
"What kind of factions?" Jazz asked, though she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.
"The kind that believe supernatural abilities should be carefully controlled and monitored," Andi replied. "The kind that think integration between magical and mortal communities is inherently unstable and dangerous. The kind that would prefer to see your family relocated to a purely supernatural community where your abilities can be properly managed."
Jazz felt the familiar warmth building in her chest, but this time it was accompanied by something else – a cold, hard certainty that her normal life was not just threatened but already fundamentally altered.
"And what about you?" she asked, meeting Andi's gaze directly. "What kind of faction do you represent?"
Andi's smile was small and sad and carried the weight of responsibilities that Jazz was only beginning to understand.
"The kind that believes your family has the right to choose your own path," she said. "And the kind that's willing to fight to protect that right, regardless of what it costs us."
The first bell rang across the academy grounds, its clear tone cutting through the morning chatter and signaling the beginning of another academic day. Around them, students began the familiar migration toward their respective first-period classrooms, backpacks slung over shoulders, conversations continuing as they navigated the social geography of teenage life.
Jazz watched them with new eyes, wondering how many of her classmates were carrying secrets as potentially explosive as her own, how many seemingly normal teenagers were actually part of a supernatural community she'd never known existed.
"I have to get to calc," she said finally, though the mundane concerns of academic achievement felt almost absurdly trivial in the context of everything Andi had just revealed.
"And I have to get to history," Andi replied. "But Jazz? Don't try to handle this alone. Whatever you're feeling, whatever's happening with your abilities – we're in this together. All of us."
"All of us?"
"Your family," Andi clarified. "The people who care about you. The community that's been watching over you since you were born. You're not as alone as you think you are."
Jazz nodded, though she felt anything but reassured as she watched her best friend disappear into the crowd of students heading toward the main academic building. The revelation that Silverwood contained an entire hidden supernatural community should have been comforting, but instead it raised questions that she wasn't sure she was ready to confront.
Questions about who else might know about her family's abilities. Questions about what kind of watching over Andi had mentioned. Questions about whether the normal life her father had sacrificed everything to provide was actually an elaborate illusion that had been maintained by forces she'd never suspected.
As she made her way toward her first-period calculus class, Jazz found herself studying her fellow students with new intensity, wondering which of them might be hiding supernatural abilities behind facades of academic ambition and social networking. The possibility that her magical heritage was not unique but part of a larger community was both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.
But most terrifying of all was the growing certainty that the careful balance her family had maintained for nearly two decades was about to be tested in ways that would challenge every choice they'd made and every truth they'd told themselves about the kind of life they were living.
The academic day was beginning, but Jazz suspected that very little of what she learned in classrooms would be as important as the education she was about to receive in the hidden realities of Silverwood's supernatural community.
And as she took her seat in Mrs. Henderson's calculus classroom, surrounded by classmates who looked exactly like normal teenagers preparing for another day of normal education, Jazz couldn't shake the feeling that normal was about to become a memory rather than a reality.
The morning that had begun with breakfast burritos and parental warnings about keeping magical abilities secret was evolving into something far more complex and dangerous than any of them had anticipated.
And they were all about to discover just how much their carefully constructed normal life had been dependent on secrets they were only beginning to understand.