Sometimes, the best way to find your way forward is to trust your instincts, even if they seem confusing. That quiet voice in your head, the one you try to push aside? It often knows more than you realize. Even if you can’t explain why, when something feels off, it usually is.

The walk back to my house was quiet. Jitters walked alongside me, his small paws barely making a sound against the worn path. His tail flicked every so often, like he was mirroring my unease.

To be honest, it was strange, really. My whole thing with him. Ever since we met in that alley, he had been better company than anyone I knew. Just a steady presence that never asked for more than I was willing to offer, even though he was just a cat.

It almost felt like he understood me. Every time I asked him something, his reactions were just too spot-on to be random. He’d give me a little meow or tilt his head, and somehow, it always made sense in a way that seemed too perfect to be coincidence. Maybe it was all in my head. Or maybe he really got it.

Of course, I had to keep things simple. Yes-or-no questions only. If I asked something and got a “meow,” that meant yes. If he stayed silent, well, that was a no. Easy enough. But still… the whole thing sounded a little crazy when I thought about it.

I mean, no way could an animal actually understand human speech, right? But if he could… well, then I’d basically be that guy. You know, the one with the weird talent no one else had. What was his name again? The Chicken Whisperer?

Except instead of poultry, I’d be the first cat whisperer in town. Hell, probably the entire kingdom. Imagine that. People would come from all over just to have me interpret their cat’s deepest desires. “Yes, your Majesty, Sir Pawsington demands only the finest salmon. He also refuses to share a litter box with Lord Whiskerfluff.”

The thought made me chuckle. Yeah, I was definitely losing it.

Sad to say, Jitters wouldn’t be my lifelong partner-in-crime for long. Like all the other strays that followed me to the estate, he would end up as a present for my sister, Alice. She adored cats even more than I did, and she would definitely be a better owner than me. No doubt she’d spoil him rotten, dressing him up in absurdly tiny outfits like she did with all her cats.

I wondered which ensemble she would pick for Jitters when she got back from Tuvia. The Royal Robe? The Meowtical Unicorn?

Hmm… My money was on the Fancy Fluffy Dress. It would fit him best.

An angry hiss snapped me from my thoughts.

I looked down. “Something bothering you, pal?”

Jitters didn’t answer. No meow, no glance my way. He just kept walking, eyes fixed ahead.

I frowned. Weird.

After a right turn down the long path, my house came into view, glowing like a lone candle in the dark. But home wasn’t on my mind. Dinner later that evening was.

Something about it felt off. Maybe it was the way Aiden and Catherine had been talking earlier, their hushed voices and those unreadable expressions they kept exchanging. It was like they were preparing some big reveal, like they were about to pull a full-grown rabbit out of a too-small hat in front of the whole family. Or maybe it was all in my head. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Either way, I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Alfred, just make me something quick,” I said as soon as I stepped inside, not particularly caring what ended up on my plate. I wasn’t hungry. Not really. But eating at least gave me something to anchor me in the present instead of letting my thoughts spiral into nowhere.

“Right away, Master Alex.” Alfred nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

I sank into a chair, absently poking at the table’s surface while Jitters hopped onto the seat across from me. He sat there, watching. Staring. Unblinking.

“What’re you looking at?” I muttered, stabbing halfheartedly at the food Alfred had placed in front of me. “You know something I don’t?”

Jitters blinked.

I sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m going mental again.”

After finishing my plate, I figured I’d lie down for a bit. No grand plans for the rest of the afternoon, so why not? A nap sounded like a good idea.

Jitters wasted no time jumping onto the bed, curling up next to me like the room was his. There was something oddly soothing about his purring, like some kind of feline hypnosis meant to lull me into an easy sleep.

I shut my eyes, willing myself to rest before the evening’s inevitable charade began. But sleep wouldn’t fully take me. Thoughts kept galloping hither and thither to purposeless corners of my mind until, at last, after only a slight doze, I was confronted by the most unpleasant dream.

Something terrible.

The entire estate was on fire.

I stood frozen in the lobby of the main mansion, watching as flames clawed at the walls and devoured everything they touched. The air was thick with heat, the scent of burning wood and smoke pressing in on me like a living thing. The fire moved fast, licking up the velvet curtains, reducing priceless furniture to ash in seconds.

The portraits of my ancestors, those disapproving faces that had loomed over me my whole life, began to melt. Their painted eyes, which had always followed me no matter where I went, seemed to glare at me as their faces twisted and dripped away into nothingness.

Bodies were scattered across the floor, charred and still.

I recognized one immediately.

Uncle Ned.

That wasn’t a shock. If any Stormbourne was going to be the first to perish in a household disaster, it was him. A natural conclusion to an unnatural life.

But in the middle of it all, untouched by the flames, sat Jitters.

He was right there, in the center of the inferno, completely unscathed. His small form was surrounded by fire, but it never touched him. His green eyes locked onto mine, unblinking, calm.

Watching.

Waiting.

I woke up with a jolt, my breath uneven and my shirt damp with sweat.

What the hell was that dream?

The room was dark, the dim glow of the setting sun barely filtering through the curtains. My heart was still pounding as I sat up, scrubbing a hand over my face.

Six o’clock.

The dream clung to me, clear and unshakable, like a scent that wouldn’t wash off. It wasn’t just disturbing. It felt pointed, like a warning whispered in the cracks of my mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was trying to tell me something. And somehow, I knew it was connected to dinner that evening.

I glanced at Jitters, who was totally unbothered. He was curled up beside me, snoozing without a care in the world. His small chest rose and fell, his tail twitching slightly in whatever dreamland he had wandered off to. Lucky cat.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. The knot in my stomach wouldn’t loosen. The more I thought about that dream, the fire, the bodies, the way Jitters just sat there in the middle of it all, the less I liked it.

Whether it was a premonition or something else, I decided not to attend that dinner.

Who needed to sit through another round of empty conversation and forced pleasantries? I wasn’t in the mood to endure Catherine’s fake expressions and my uncles’ nonsense. Not tonight. Not when everything inside me was screaming to be somewhere else.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and reached for my sword, fastening it to my belt. The weight of it was a comfort, solid and familiar.

“Come on, Jitters,” I urged, half expecting him to leap to his feet.

Instead, he let out a slow, lazy yawn and rolled over, his back to me, making it clear he had no intention of moving.

That was strange. He almost always followed me, especially when I wanted him to.

“Fine,” I muttered, eyeing him warily. “Have it your way, pal.”

Before leaving, I headed into the kitchen to see if Alfred and Mathilda were preparing something for the evening.

“Um, I’m going to town,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’ll get my dinner there. So don’t wait up for me.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Master Alex, are you sure—”

“Sure,” I said, not wanting to get into it. “Just… do me a favor and don’t wait up.”

Mathilda looked like she wanted to say something too, but she held back. Instead, she just nodded. “Be careful, Master Alex.”

“Always.” I grinned, though the smile didn’t quite reach my eyes, and left.

The main gate appeared before me, the surrounding area eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Catherine’s soldiers were mixed in with the estate guards. The Silverlions, geared for battle, stood watch like they were expecting an ambush any second. It didn’t feel right for them to be so on edge all the time. Why didn’t they rest in the quarters made for them? What were they expecting? Another procession?

At the gate, a couple more Silverlions were chatting with our sentries. They all came to attention as I walked by, all except one. His stare made my skin crawl. It was a withering, hate-filled glance, like he begrudged me for even stepping off the estate.

What was his deal?

I tried to brush it off, but that look stayed with me. I wasn’t about to let some soldier ruin my evening.

I walked through the streets of Stormvale, trying to clear my head. I entered a couple of shops, not actually shopping, just killing time.

By seven, the sun had fully set, leaving the streets nearly deserted. The town always seemed different at night. Quieter. More mysterious. The stillness made me realize I was a little hungry. I picked up my pace and grabbed a meal at the nearest café. Nothing special, just something to eat.

While I ate, my thoughts drifted back to that weird bar.

The Chosen One.

It had disappeared on me earlier that day when I tried to find it. As if it had never existed at all. Maybe it had some magical reappearing act after dark. Who knows? Weird stuff happened in this town, and that bar was definitely one of them.

By eight, I was back on my feet, determined to find it again.

I turned into the alley where it should’ve been.

Vacant. No bar. No sign it had ever been there.

“Figures,” I grumbled, feeling more frustrated than surprised.

With the bar nowhere in sight, I made my way to the Royal Rose instead. It wasn’t my first choice, but it sure beat wandering around aimlessly. Maybe I’d have a drink or two, see where the night took me. The Drunken Stag was probably still cleaning up after last night’s brawl, so that place was off the table.

Then I took a wrong turn.

Or maybe it was the right one.

I ended up in one of those narrow, empty streets where the shadows seemed deeper than usual. That’s when things got weird.

Three Silverlions rushed past, moving fast like they were on a mission. Looking for something. Or more likely, someone.

Wait a minute. Weren’t those the same soldiers I saw talking with our guards?

Something was definitely off.

A little voice in my head screamed, “Run, Alex! They’re here to kill you!”

But of course, I was a step too late.

One of them locked eyes with me, his gaze narrowing.

“There he is!” he shouted, pointing straight at me.

Before I knew it, all three had their swords drawn, charging like they were in the middle of a battlefield. Whatever they wanted, it wasn’t good. Arrest, torture, or worse. I wasn’t sticking around to find out.

Taking on three battle-hardened soldiers? Not a chance. Let’s be honest, this fight was going to be anything but fair.

So I did the only sensible thing. I turned and ran. I bolted, really.

Down the alley I sprinted like a madman, with those Silverlions hot on my heels. I had no clue where I was heading, just that I needed to put as much distance between us as possible.

The night was creeping in, and there was no way I was letting them catch me.

Not tonight.