Rory's Point of View
The scream cut through the backyard like a blade—sharp, echoing, and human.
I flinched. Caleb did too, his body going rigid beside me. Then the music inside stuttered. The lights—those soft pink and purple hues—flickered once, then again. The backyard sank into momentary darkness, like the world blinked and didn't fully open its eyes again.
"Was that…?" I whispered.
He was already moving. Not fast, not dramatic—just walking, steady, back toward the house like he didn't want to admit anything was wrong. Like acknowledging it would make it real.
I followed.
Inside, the lights buzzed back on, overly bright now. Too white. Too normal.
The scream had stopped.
People were gathered in the living room. Someone laughed nervously. Maya stood on a chair near the fireplace, hands up like she was conducting an orchestra of confusion. "It was just the cake! Relax, drama queens! The candles went up too fast or something. No one's dead!"
More laughter. Some eye-rolls. The usual.
But I didn't move.
Because the smell wasn't right.
Something faint, underneath the vanilla frosting and soda and perfume—something burnt. Metallic. A memory tugged at my mind: silver in heat. Like scorched metal.
Aerie stirred inside me.
I didn't want to feel him. Not here. Not now.
My hands were cold.
Caleb stood close again, not quite touching me. "You smell that?"
I turned to him, surprised.
He didn't look at me. Just kept scanning the crowd, his brow drawn tight. Like he knew something was off, even if he didn't understand it yet.
I shook my head slowly. "What do you think it was?"
"I don't know," he said. Then after a pause, "But this place feels wrong now. Like it shifted."
My skin prickled.
Something in me wanted to bolt. The air felt too still, the lights too white. The shadows felt longer than they should have been, stretching across the walls like ink.
"I think I need water," I said quickly.
Caleb nodded once. "I'll come with—"
"No," I said. Too fast. I forced a smile. "I'm okay. Just need a second."
The kitchen was empty.
I stood at the sink, running the cold tap, watching the water twist over my fingers. My reflection shimmered faintly in the dark window above the sink—blurry, warping with the flow of water.
Then it moved.
I froze.
My reflection blinked after I did.
Not before. Not at the same time.
After.
I stumbled back, knocking into the counter.
My breath caught. The window now showed only the garden—quiet, black, swaying slightly with the breeze.
Aerie's voice whispered from deep inside me: "You saw it, didn't you?"
No. No. I'm tired. I imagined it.
"You're changing, Selene."
He used that name again.
Not my name.
I gripped the edge of the counter. My palms burned. When I looked down—
Claws.
Short. Silver-white tips. Pushing through the skin of my fingers, curved just barely—but they were there.
I bit my lip hard to stop the sound rising in my throat.
Then I heard it.
A whisper behind me—not Aerie. Not Caleb.
Just a voice I didn't know. Soft. Childlike.
"She's waking up."
I spun.
No one was there.
Back in the hallway, the music had returned to normal, but everything felt thinner. Like the air itself had forgotten how to hold space.
Caleb wasn't in the living room anymore.
I scanned the room, suddenly unsettled. Maya was back to posing for pictures. People were eating cake. But the energy was hollow.
Then someone tugged my sleeve.
A girl. Younger than me. Freckles. Pale green eyes.
"Rory?" she said.
I blinked. "Yeah?"
"You're invited."
"What?"
She handed me a small envelope. Shiny. Black. No return name. No seal.
I hesitated.
When I looked up again—
The girl was gone.
Vanished into the crowd.
I turned the envelope in my hand.
One word written across the front in looping, perfect script.
Selene.