A soft, blue-white glow spilled through the autumn leaves like moonlight filtered through glass. Shadows from the trees stretched long across the fading fields as I leaned against the door of the jeep, watching the storm roll in. Rain tapped the roof gently at first, then picked up into a steady rhythm, drumming like fingers on metal. I let my eyes fall shut for just a moment, comforted by the sound.
When I opened them again, the sky had become a swirl of dusky purple and bruised orange, the kind of cocktail-colored sky you could almost drink. The rain shimmered on the windshield, turning the world outside into something dreamlike and surreal—like magic unfolding just for me.
Logan's hands were tight on the wheel, his jaw a thin, determined line. The GPS glowed softly on the dash: 7 hours and 33 minutes to go. I've never met my father Damen and his family he had made without it has always been just me. Logan and Lam who act as my older brothers, my uncles and aunt's family, Anika my godfather and his family, his son who also felt like an older sibling to me knowing Damen was waiting for me that he wanted to meet me to be a part of his family. I could already imagine the warmth of my new mom embracing me with a smile on her face, having a little brother clinging to my waist, another brother my age that would hangout with me and get into fights with, or my father cracking one of those terrible jokes that dads often do like Anika when he tries to be funny. The picture in my head felt warm and ordinary and everything I wanted; my heart fluttered at the thought.
I reached up and tucked a windblown strand of hair behind my ear. The breeze slipped in through the cracked window and tangled my curls; they were a mess—as unruly and alive as a dark night sky. My hair always did that: thick and silken, black as obsidian, with those secret threads of violet and silver that flashed when the light hit them right. Even damp, the strands caught faint midnight-blue undertones. I rolled the window up, humming along to the familiar song on my phone. I popped out one earbud, letting the music fade into the rhythm of the storm.
I reached up and tucked a windblown strand of hair behind my ear, the breeze slipping in through the cracked window. My curls were a mess. I rolled the window up, humming along to the familiar song playing from my phone. I popped out one of my earbuds, letting the music fade into the rhythm of the storm.
"Please put your seatbelt on," Logan said suddenly. His voice was quiet, but firm—nervous. He'd been that way ever since we landed in the U.S. It was his first time driving here, and he'd studied every traffic law he could find, just to be safe.
"Okay, okay. I'm putting it on," I replied, reaching for the belt.
The road ahead was a black ribbon, sliced by our headlights. Trees leaned toward us like ghostly sentinels. The world smelled like wet earth and ozone, the fresh, metallic hint of rain before lightning.
And then—
Something moved.
Something huge.
I froze, hand halfway to the buckle. Logan saw it too. He didn't even hesitate. He reached over and yanked the belt across my chest, snapping it into place with one hand just as the world exploded.
The truck hit us like a battering ram. The sound came first—metal folding in on itself, glass caving and then spraying outward. The jeep lurched, then turned. We were weightless, tumbling, spinning. My scream became part of a chorus: a thin slice of high sound drowned by the roar of impact. The world inverted; headlights spattered like tiny suns across the ceiling.
The truck hit us like a battering ram. I remember the sound first—metal folding, glass shattering. We were weightless, tumbling, spinning. My scream got lost in the chaos. The jeep rolled, glass slicing through the air like falling stars.
When we stopped, it was sudden and jarring. I lifted my head, dazed, my face against the dashboard. My vision swam in and out of focus. Smoke. Blood. My forehead burned. I touched it and felt something wet and sticky—my own blood. The warmth of it looked strange against my skin, which usually caught dusk like a soft glow; now the color ran bright and alarming.
Someone was screaming.
I turned my head. Logan was slumped over the wheel, unconscious. Blood trickled from a cut on his temple, but his chest rose and fell. Relief hit me like a wave but then the world reared again: I fumbled for the buckle and turned around. Lily in the backseat, shaking and crying; Anthony not moving at all. He didn't buckled his seatbelt.
"Anthony… oh my god…" My voice was paper-thin.
Then the air changed: a metallic screech, and with it the realization that loose cargo had become a weapon. Something heavy and jagged launched through the back, arcing toward us like a thrown moon.
Time slowed. My mind broke into shards of memory and images—my god-brother's laugh, Logan's grin, my uncle teasing me with that ridiculous nickname. I knew—knew in my bones—that I was about to die.
I reached for anything to hold onto, but there was nothing. The windshield exploded as if someone had peeled a lid off the sky.
I was airborne.
For a heartbeat the universe held me like a thrown star. Then gravity took me and everything fell.
I hit the wet pavement with a sound that should have been louder. Bones complained. My leg folded the wrong way. My head cracked on something cold and hard. Pain unrolled like a flag across my body—bright, uncompromising, sharp enough to push thought aside. Blood painted lines from split skin, and every breath was a serrated thing.
Even when the pain stretched thin,
Through the haze, my eyes—those large, amber-gold pools flecked with silver and violet—caught the storm. They were my mother's eyes, only deeper, threaded with my father's chaos; in lightning they blazed with an impossible sunrise, in lamplight they could look like someone had trapped night inside them. I blinked through grit and rain and for a second they flashed like twin dawns. Silly thoughts flared—ridiculous vanity about how my irises would look in the eyes of whoever found me—and then the cruel brightness of pain took over again.
I could feel my mother's presence her warm hands urging me to keep on fighting to not give in to the pain longing for my family I left behind in Paris and Elaragon to be with my Damen in his family that I probably never get to meet, then sorrow I felt of having to leave Logan and others, never getting to experience my first kiss, my first love as lay there tears trickle down my face on to the wet pavement.
The pain was so intense I couldn't even cry. I was still—so still—staring up at the stormy sky, rain soaking my dress, my hair dragging in the mud. I wanted to live. I wanted to go home. But my eyes closed anyway.