I stand frozen, heart pounding, the heat from his hand still lingering on my elbow. The hallway around us is empty now, the last echoes of voices fading as students drift off to class. The air between us feels thick—-charged——like something is about to break open.
Justin glances over his shoulder, then back at me. "Come on," he says gently. "It's only a few minutes."
I hesitate, but I nod.
We move in silence through the side hall, past the stairwell, down a narrow corridor rarely used anymore. It smells like old paper and dust. He leads me to a forgotten supply room with a broken light flickering overhead and a small window cracked open to the cloudy afternoon.
Justin nudges the door shut behind us.
It's not romantic. It's not even warm. But it's quiet. Safe.
He leans against the wall, crossing his arms—-like he's trying to keep something in.
I wait.
Finally, he exhales. "You want a secret?" His voice is steady, but there's something raw beneath it. "Here's one."
He looks up. And for the first time, really looks at me.
"I'm not like the others."
I swallow. "You mean….at school?"
He shakes his head slowly. "I mean anywhere."
The pendant at my chest hums faintly, like it senses the shift. My fingers brush abasing it, grounding me.
I think of the forest. Of the voice. Of the magic thrumming just beneath my skin.
"You're not human," I say, the words falling out before I can second-guess them.
His eyes don't flinch. He just holds my gaze. Doesn't confirm. Doesn't deny.
I exhale, the truth settling into my bones like it's something I already knew. "You're fae."
Justin says nothing. Just watches me.
And that silence——that stillness——is the answer.
Something unknots inside me. I don't know why, but the moment I say it, the fear ebbs away. He doesn't feel like danger. He never has.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I whisper.
"Would you have listened?" His voice is quiet, almost bitter. "You are already tangled in things you don't even understand yet. I didn't want to add to it."
"But you're apart of it," I say. "Aren't you?"
He closes his eyes for a second, jaw tight. "I didn't choose this either, Sarah."
There's something in the way he says my name. Something careful.
I step closer.
"Why are you telling me this now?"
His eyes meet mine, and the walls I always feel him holding up…shift. Just slightly."
"Because you're starting to matter," he says.
My breath catches.
And then he steps closer too, so close I can feel the warmth of his skin, the faint trace of rain still clinging to his clothes. His hand lifts, hesitates, then brushes a damp strand of hair from my cheek.
His fingers linger a moment too long.
"I shouldn't get close to you," he murmurs. "But I can't seem to stop."
My heart stutters. "Then don't."
The moment stretches, taut and unspoken. His hand drops. He doesn't kiss me. Doesn't even touch me again. But the air between us is electric.
And I know something's shifted.
Maybe in him.
Maybe in me.
Maybe in both of us.
The space between us feels smaller than it did a moment ago—-like something invisible has pulled taut, drawing us in.
Justin steps back first.
The spell doesn't break, exactly. It just shifts.
"We should get out of here," he says, quieter now. "Before someone finds us."
I nod, but I don't move right away.
He opens the door, peeking into the hallway before motioning me to follow. We slip out together, silent as shadows. The hallway is empty. School must be halfway through the next period already.
We walk side by side, not speaking, not touching—-but everything between us has changed. I can feel it in the air, in the way he glances at me out of the corner of his eye. It's not just attraction. It's something deeper. Sharper.
Something we're both trying not to name.
As we near the end of the corridor, he finally speaks again. "You asked me why I didn't tell you before."
I glance at him. "Yeah?"
He dones't look at me when he says it, just keeps his gaze forward.
"Because the truth makes people run."
The words land hard, unexpected. And I see something flicker in his expression—-regret. Like maybe he's not just talking about me.
"I'm not running," I say.
"Not yet," he murmurs.
We step into the main hallway. The buzz of normal school life returns at once—-footsteps, laughter, the squeak of shoes on tile. It feels too bright after the quiet of the supply room, like we've crossed back into a version of reality that doesn't know what just happened.
Justin turns to me, his voice low. "We don't have to talk about this right now. I just….wanted you to know."
"I'm glad you told me," I say. And I mean it.
Even if I don't know what it means yet. Even if I'm only starting to understand what he is—or what I am.
His gaze softens. "Be careful who you trust."
There's a weight behind his words.
"Does that include you?" I ask.
A beat of silence.
Then. "It might."
His honesty shouldn't make me trust him more. But somehow…it does.
And maybe that's the problem.
He walks away then, blending back into the stream of students. He doesn't look back.
But I do.
And the pendant at my chest hums again—-low, warning, and alive.
Something is shifting. I can feel it in my bones.
And I'm not sure if I'm falling into something, or being led.
********
The front door creaks as I push it open.
The house is too quiet—-until I catch it. A faint murmur, low voices slipping through the walls. I pause, my fingers tightening around the doorknob. The sound is coming from the kitchen.
I move slowly, quietly, stepping past the front hallway. One voice is my mom's—-calm, clipped, careful. The other?
Lilly.
That silky, unreadable tone wraps around every word like silk over steel.
"…you should've told her by now," Lilly is saying.
"She's ready enough for them to take notice. You think they'll wait forever? This is a warning, Cassie. If she doesn't come willingly…."
I step into view.
Both women freeze.
My mom straightens instantly, the tight expression she wears only when she's trying not to panic, slipping into place. Lilly, on the other hand, doesn't flinch. She simply turns, offering me a smile too polished to be real.
"Sarah," she says smoothly. "We were just talking about you."
I glance between them, my pulse quickening. "I noticed."
Mom opens her mouth to say something—-but Lilly is already crossing the room, her movements fluid and deliberate. In her hand is a folded envelope, sealed with a strange symbol: a crescent moon carved into silver wax, with a circle of woven thorns around it.
She extends it toward me like an offering.
"What is this?" I ask, not taking it right away.
"A formal summons," she says. "From The Court."
My heart skips.
"The Court?" I repeat, staring at the seal.
"The Court of the Lightborn," she says, voice soft now, reverent. "They've requested an audience with you. In Lumindellar."
The pendant against my skin pulses—-so sharp and sudden I flinch. Like it recognizes the name.
I take the envelope, fingers trembling. The paper is old. Thick. The wax cold.
"They don't send these to just anyone," Lilly adds, watching me closely. "This is rare. Sacred."
Mom crosses the kitchen and places herself beside me. "You don't have to open it right now," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to do anything right now."
But I know better.
I break the seal.
Inside, the handwriting is slanted, elegant, and faintly glowing.
To Sarah of the Lightborn Line,
The Court acknowledges your awakening.
You are summoned to appear in Lumindellar within three sun cycles.
We seek answers as much as you do.
Come willingly. Or there will be consequences.
There's no signature. Just a faint signal pressed into the parchment. The same one that burned in my dream.
My throat tightens.
"This isn't a request, I say.
Lilly's smile fades. "No. it's not."
And behind her, my mom lowers her eyes—-like she already knew this was coming.
"How long were you going to keep this from me?" My voice comes out quieter than I expected, but sharp.
Mom closes her eyes. Just for a second. But it's enough.
"Sarah—-"
"Don't," I say. "Don't pretend like you weren't expecting this. You knew they would come. You knew about the pendant, the dreams, all of it."
"I was trying to protect you."
I finally look at her, and the weight behind my stare lands hard. "By lying to me?"
She sighs, leaning against the counter like her legs can't quite hold her up anymore. "I didn't lie. Not at first. I just….didn't tell you everything."
"Which is the same thing!" I snap.
Silence stretches between us. She doesn't deny it.
"They told me this day would come," she says finally, her voice thinner now. "Your parents made me promise that if the Court ever reached out again, I'd stall them. Keep you hidden. Give you a life that wasn't touched by all of…..this."
Her eyes flick to the envelope in my hand.
"They're not just reaching out," I whisper. "They are summoning me."
Mom nods. "I know."
I let out a shaky breath. "So why wait? Why didn't you tell me the second you got this?"
"I was going to," she says softly. "But I needed to talk to Lilly first. To be sure."
"Be sure of what?" My voice cracks.
"That you were ready." She steps toward me, her expression cracking for the first time all night. "You're just a kid, Sarah."
"I'm not," I say. "Not anymore."
Another silence.
Then, mom speaks again, barely above a whisper. "The last time someone tried to stand up to the Court, they disappeared."
I freeze.
"Ryan?" I ask.
Mom doesn't answer. Not with words.
But her eyes say everything.
A knot forms in my throat. "You think they killed him."
"He knew too much," she says. "And I think…..he tried to stop them from finding you."
A cold wave rushes through me. Everything I thought I knew—-about my family, about Ryan, about mom—-is starting to unravel, thread by thread.
"They're not going to stop," I whisper.
"No," she agrees. "But you don't have to face them alone."
I look down at the letter again. The ink still glows faintly. The words etched in gold across the page feel more like chains than invitations.
To Sarah of the Lightborn Line…
A bloodline I never asked for. A title I never wanted.
But the pendant hums at my chest like it already knew this moment would come. Like it was waiting.
I clutch it tight, the cold metal digging into my palm.
I don't know what's waiting in Lumindellar. But I do know one thing.
They won't wait much longer.
*********
I head up stairs without saying anything else. The envelope clutched in my hand, the pendant pressing against my chest like it's listening——still waiting.
The second I'm alone in my room, I lock the door.
I don't even bother changing. I sit on the edge of my bed, the letter spread out in front of me. I read it again. And again.
The invitation is short, formal, and completely unnerving.
I lie back on the bed, the pendant resting against my skin, and I close my eyes—-just for a second.
*******
The world cracks open.
I'm standing on a silver path stretching across a field of stars. Gravity doesn't matter here. Neither does breath.
The pendant glows at my chest, tethering me in place. A thread between worlds.
Ahead, rising out of the mist and starlight, is Lumindellar.
It's not a city.
It's a realm made of memory and magic, impossibly vast. Trees that shimmer with light. Waterfalls that flow upward. A sky that burns with moonlight, even though there's no moon.
And a throne room.
I'm standing in it now.
Massive. Open. Carved from dark stone veined with silver, lit by floating orbs of cold fire. Pillars of twisted marble climb toward a ceiling that shifts like clouds, echoing voices I can't quite understand.
At the far end: thrones.
Nine of them. Each different. Some shaped from bone-white crystal, others draped in vines or carved with gold symbols that seem to change every time I blink.
Figures sit on them.
The Fae.
Not just fae——The Court.
Masked. Robed. Watching.
All except one.
The tallest stands. Her mask gleams like glass. Her voice rings out—-not with sound, but with thought. It cuts straight through me.
"Daughter of the Vanished Line."
The other figures stir. One tilts its head. Another's mask flickers—-briefly showing a face too beautiful to be human. Or safe.
I try to speak, but my mouth doesn't move. My body doesn't feel real. It's like I'm both inside the dream and outside of it. Witness and subject.
"We have waited long enough."
The pendant pulses, answering them.
The vision fractures. Light spills through the cracks. A wind howls—-not through the air, but through me. And just before the vision shatters, I see it.
The figure from the woods.
Standing at the edge of the throne room.
Watching.
Waiting.
********
I jolt awake, the scream still stuck in my throat.
My room is dark.
The pendant is burning hot against my skin. The envelope on my desk—the letter—the ink is gone.
Faded. Blank. Like it never existed.
But I know what I saw.
Lumindellar is real.
And it's calling me.
I lay back down, pulling the blanket to my chin, hoping sleep will come.
But just as my eyes begin to close again…..
A whisper.
Faint. Faded. Impossible.
Soon, daughter.
The voice isn't in my head this time.
It's coming from inside the wall.