I couldn’t forget the handwriting.
Each letter burned beneath my skin.
Sleep never came.
He haunted me—etched in thought, without beginning or end.
The hours crawled like a broken dream.
Birdsong pierced the silence—clear, undeniable.
Time to rise.
I stood from the swing, my body still frozen from the night, and grabbed my bag.
In the kitchen, Sierra was already awake.
The air smelled of warm butter and chocolate—a moment that tasted like home… too sweet to swallow.
“Everything okay?” she asked, noticing how I only moved the food around.
“I’m just tired,” I yawned, sinking into the chair.
She poured coffee and set it before me.
“This’ll help.”
The coffee slid down my throat like comfort—warm and calming.
The cake was too sweet, but it thawed something that had been locked deep inside.
“Is it because of the letter?” she asked.
I didn’t answer. Of course it was.
But what could I say?
The wind brushed me as I stepped into the driveway.
At school, I spotted Jace right away.
At least I wasn’t the only one up too early.
At least I wasn’t the only one trying to outrun my thoughts.
“Good morning,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Fine,” he answered, eyes tired. “You?”
“You look exhausted. Didn’t sleep?”
“Had to babysit my sister.”
“Oh, you have a little sister?”
“Three years old. Exhausting sometimes, but I love her. I try to be patient.”
His voice softened. Something in him melted when he spoke of her—and it melted something in me too.
A pang of distance rose—or maybe quiet envy.
When was the last time I felt that kind of closeness?
“I have younger siblings too,” I said.
Not a lie—just a past he could never imagine.
In psychology class, I sat beside him.
The teacher entered with a coffee and a shoulder bag, calling out names.
On the board: one word. Odyssey.
My heart skipped a beat, as if someone whispered my name from inside the pages.
I’d read that story again and again.
I glanced at Jace—interest flickered in his eyes.
“Anyone want to explain the book?” the teacher asked.
“You know it?” I whispered.
No one raised a hand. So I did.
“Yes, Amelia?” she said.
“It’s about Odysseus, who fought in the Trojan War and began a long journey home.
It took ten years. A nymph trapped him. He faced a cyclops and nearly drowned from the sirens’ song.
Meanwhile, his wife, Penelope, and son, Telemachus, defended their home against suitors.
He endured countless trials—outside and inside.”
My voice shook at first but steadied.
The tears I’d stored from the night became words.
The teacher stepped closer. “Surprising, you know it. You weren’t here last class, were you?”
“I read a lot.”
“So what’s the psychological message of the story?”
I tried to smile. “If I tell you, what will you teach the rest of the class?”
Her expression tightened. “If you don’t know—just say so. Don’t deflect.”
Shame climbed into my throat. My vision blurred.
Then—a warm hand touched mine.
Jace. A silent shield.
Warmth, right when I needed it.
I took a breath.
“The message I love most is using creativity to overcome obstacles.
It ties into psychology because… sometimes I feel like I’m on a journey to return to who I used to be.
But I’m not sure I ever truly existed there. Maybe it’s just a journey—to find a home I never knew I was missing.”
The bell rang, cutting me off.
“Are you okay?” Jace whispered.
“Yeah.” I wiped a tear. “Thanks for being here.”
Later, I approached the teacher.
“I wasn’t trying to be clever,” I said. “I just thought maybe someone else should answer.”
“My goal is to challenge,” she replied.
“If it hurt you—I apologize. In truth… it changed how I see you. There’s depth in you we haven’t uncovered yet.”
I was about to leave when she asked,
“Why do you think you have low self-esteem?”
I froze.
“How do you know?”
“I felt it. You were afraid to be wrong. You’ve been through things, haven’t you?”
I nodded.
“But you’re here. Still going. Fight for your light, Amelia. Like Jace.”
“He… he’s just a friend,” I whispered.
“And you can do anything. Your voice matters—even if it shakes.”
The next bell neared.
Outside, Jace was waiting.
“How long?” I asked.
“Two minutes.”
I nodded. “Better now. Much better.”
Something in me had settled.
Maybe not everything’s broken.
“What class now?” Jace asked.
“Music.” I lied.
“Oh, you study music? So do I! But not today—the day after tomorrow.”
“Cool. I’ll find the room. See you at break.”
I turned away, wandering toward the principal’s office.
“You’re supposed to be at the supernatural exam,” he said without looking up.
His voice was sharp, as if he knew I’d arrive before I stepped through the door.
“I didn’t know how to get there,” I muttered, frustration spilling through.
He sighed and stood. “Follow.”
He led me to the eastern wing, stopping before a mural: a dragon clutching a fairy in its claws. Behind them, an old wooden door.
“It’s just a mural,” I said. “There’s nothing here.”
The principal only smiled. His eyes glittered with secrets.
He raised his hand—the mural shifted.
The fairy escaped, the dragon breathed smoke, and the door opened.
I stared, breath caught.
“How did you do that?”
“You can too,” he said. “But only if you believe.”
I stepped through.
The school transformed.
Fairies. Goblins. Werewolves. Even newborn vampires.
Energy thick in the air. Scents of smoke, flowers, metal, and blood.
Fear clung to me like a shadow.
But with Jace… it was different.
In the classroom: mats, desks, and chairs. Students scattered across them.
And Oliver.
My heart clenched. Not him. Please, not him.
Five teachers entered.
The one with black hair and horse legs spoke first.
“Welcome to supernatural studies. I’m Orin Solgar. Here we develop your powers—and your character.”
His voice, steady and inspiring—so different from Oliver’s.
I liked him instantly. Unlike…
“You’ll have assessments for the next month,” he continued.
“They’ll match your powers and personality with a schedule.”
His gaze landed on me, sharp as a blade.
A shiver crawled down my spine.
Then Oliver stepped forward.
“Follow,” his eyes commanded.
Confused, I obeyed.
Outside stood Orin, the principal, Oliver, and another teacher.
I realized because I bore a mark—part angel, part witch, part wolf—
They wanted me to train with all of them.
“Who will teach me?” I asked.
All eyes turned to Oliver.
No. Not him. Not again.
“Can’t someone else?” I pleaded.
“You don’t need to connect,” Orin said. “You need to learn.”
The principal added, “Your powers are changing. You need help regaining control.”
Defeated, I asked Oliver, “Where and when?”
“The gym. After core studies.”
His tone… almost normal. Almost warm.
Then his lips curved. “And how is Jace, by the way?”
He knew. Somehow, he knew.
“He’s fine. Thanks for asking,” I shot back.
This game was exhausting.
The bell ended it.
Later, I tried the mural myself. Nothing happened.
A forest elf girl helped me.
“I’m Amelia. You?”
“Linea Priwa.”
Her voice was like a forest breeze.
Her eyes sparkled like a falling star.
Maybe… I could make a friend.
Jace found me again.
“That mural… It’s amazing. Do you draw?”
“A little.”
“Show me sometime.”
His eyes lingered on me too long.
Something was awakening between us.
Even after he walked away, my heart trembled.
But Oliver was waiting.
“You’re late,” he said.
“The bell rang.”
“So you’re rushing—why exactly?”
“What now?” I asked.
“Close your eyes.”
“No way.”
“Scared?”
“I’d rather feel fear than trust someone I don’t know.”
“But you know me. I’m Oliver.”
“That’s not the same.”
“I’m your teacher. That’s enough.”
I hesitated. Then I closed my eyes.
A shiver ran through me.
His hand on my lower back, his other hand on mine.
My skin prickled. My breath caught.
My heartbeat raced.
“You can open them now.”
What I saw didn’t just change everything I thought I knew—
It made me question my very existence.
And I understood:
Only when I lose everything will I know.
This was only the beginning.