Magic stems from ordinary places. And sometimes the simplest places have the most magic.

Magic stems from ordinary places. And sometimes—

Magic stems from ordinary places.

Magic stems—

"Screw off, Changeling!"

"I don't want to, Fury."

Zaine smiles innocently, continuing to poke at my head and twirl my hair. It's annoying and irritating and I can't focus. I've read the same passage thirteen times and I can't process it because my stupidly irritating brother-in-law won't leave me alone.

I suppose this is where my power comes in handy. The ability to create barriers like force fields is incredibly useful when you have people who won't take a goddamn hint. It's so nice to be able to block out sounds or light or just people trying to provoke you into breaking their goddamn fingers. Or I could just cast a barrier around him and lock him in a bubble instead...

A smirk crosses my lips. Out of the corner of my eye, I glance up at the older warlock perched on the arm of the couch next to me and summon my magic. My smirk widens as a shimmering, transparent, gold-coloured barrier surrounds Zaine in a bubble. He's so close to me that he's at the edge of the bubble, there's more space behind him, and as I move the barrier back, he's forced to go with it.

His eyes widen as he realizes what I'm doing and he tries pushing against the barrier. It doesn't work, of course, and I move the bubble out of the living room to the front foyer of the pack house. Killian and Rei should be back from talking with Daring soon enough and the front foyer is the easiest place to leave Zaine. I adjust my magic and tweak it so that Rei's touch will let the little shit out and shove the mildly draining feeling of constantly maintaining the barrier to the back of my mind.

Finally, I can get some semblance of peace.

"Nicholas J. Fury, let me out!"

I roll my eyes and tweak the barrier again so sound from inside the bubble can't be heard, but he can hear others. Of course he uses the namesake of my nickname when he's annoyed like an angry child. As for the nickname itself... Something about Fury being the director of SHIELD and I cast barriers or shields. Rhea picked it, said Captain America was too boringly obvious.

As if Warbird is any better.

A small huff passes my lips at the thought and I try to focus my attention back to my book.

Magic stems from ordinary places. And sometimes the simplest places have the most magic. It's whether we choose to look deeper, past the simplicity, that matters. A simple world still has the magic to inspire—

I close the novel with a small snap and a quiet groan. Now I'm too out of it to finish the chapter. Great.

My thoughts flicker to Amarant for a second before I drag them back. I can't see her now.

With a long sigh, I leave the book on the coffee table, trusting it won't be disturbed as I wander towards the back patio door. Rhea should be out here, right? I pass a few pack members on the way, giving them polite smiles and small nods as I go. I see a few small smirks of amusement and I know they must have seen Zaine pouting in the front foyer.

Rhea is indeed out in the backyard. She's currently a good ten feet off the ground too, floating in the air. She can't fly, she floats. She needs a fan or something to actually move through the air. Hence, Warbubble would be more appropriate in my opinion.

A small length of pink string around my twin sister's wrist leads to a matching string bracelet around Luella's wrist, a safeguard in case the small girl slips from Rhea's hands, no doubt. It would be very bad if the small child lost physical contact with Rhea at that height.

Luella giggles loudly, squirming in Rhea's grasp as the spin slowly in the air. For a four year old who doesn't like being away from her adoptive parents, she's surprisingly happy. I suppose that may have something to do with Rhea distracting the girl though. Any small child without a fear of height would enjoy floating, I guess. Though my magic doesn't risk nausea like hers does.

Deciding to join them, I cast a small shield beneath my feet and raise it up into the air. I'm used to the feeling of moving this way, standing or sitting on a flat barrier, and the movement doesn't bother me anymore.

Luella giggles as reaches for me as I come up next to the pair, sitting cross-legged on my golden platform like a magic carpet rider.

"Hey, brother 'o mine!" Rhea chirps. "No more reading?"

"Changeling was a little poo," I grumble.

Rhea laughs, "It's that just how he is?"

"I suppose," I reply with a small smile. Rhea swims through the air and I extend my platform for her and Luella to land on. "I trapped him in the front foyer."

Another bright laugh passes Rhea's lips and she asks, "You think they'll be back soon?"

"Daddy?" Luella pipes up, tilting her head. "He's coming back?"

"Soon," I reply.

"Now, actually," a voice calls.

We all look down to see Rei standing below us with her arms crossed, still dressed in the tank top and shorts she left in. Asher is with her, his hands in his jean pockets, an amused smirk on his lips. Rhea and I share a look before I bring my platform back down to the ground. Rhea unties the string around Luella's wrist and her own, stowing it away in her pocket.

Rei watches us with a raised brow, eyeing me specifically. I smile innocently, rocking back and forth on my feet. Rhea looks between us with a grin as Luella reaches for Asher.

"Hey, Lu," the alpha murmurs gently, sweeping her up.

"Uncle Ash," the girl giggles wildly, latching onto Asher's neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. The golden ring on his finger glints in the sunlight and a faint, unwanted chill raises goosebumps across my skin, but then Luella is chattering again and the feeling is gone. "Warbird taked me up! We could look over all the trees! Where's Daddy?"

"In the front foyer," Asher replies. "He's with your Pop."

"Yeah, mind explaining that, Fury?" Rei asks, looking at me with a raised brow.

I cross my arms, refusing to feel bad. "He was interrupting my reading."

Rei hums for a second before nodding. "Fair. I'll go and let him out so Lulu can see Flash."

"Did he join Changeling in there?"

"Of course he did."

I laugh lightly and nod. Of course Killian wouldn't leave Zaine alone in his time out; he loves the annoying little fuck too much. Not to say the rest of us don't, but Killian has the most patience with him.

Rei takes Luella with her as she heads back inside, leaving Rhea and I with Asher.

The alpha smiles, tilting his head. "Ready for your party tomorrow, Independence?"

"That again?" Rhea rolls her eyes but smiles fondly. "Just because our birthday is the Fourth of July—"

"Independence," Asher cuts her off with a smirk. Rhea rolls her eyes again but doesn't reply and Asher's smirk widens before he shakes his head. "But really, you two. You're turning sixteen, it's supposed to be grand."

"Was it for you?" I ask, raising a brow.

Asher's smile drops almost instantly and he shakes his head with a scowl. "Absolutely not. But it was my own fault. Yours is gonna be much better."

"I should hope so," Clove cuts in. She walks up behind Rhea and I, slinging her arms around our shoulders as Raiden stops next to Asher. "If you follow Asher's lead, baby siblings or not, I'll slap you."

"Yes, ma'am." Rhea gives her a mock salute.

I smile in amusement, my hands in my pockets. My smile fades into confusion however, as I notice Asher and Raiden watching me and whispering softly to each other. Raiden notices me looking at them first, a sheepish smile crossing his lips. Asher tilts his head, now openly studying me.

"You've just grown quiet," he says in an explanation. Quiet. That's what Amarant always says too. I don't get to dwell on that though as Asher continues, "It's not bad, it's just different from how you were at five years old."

A dry smile crosses my lips. "Not as outgoing as Rhea, I know."

And I do know. While I can't pinpoint the differences, I do know that I've changed. I can remember being as open and unguarded as my twin sister, once upon a time ago. Being so carefree and relaxed and just like a child should be. But that was ten years ago, and I've had a lot of time.

Time to build walls and defenses and wariness. Time to learn how to study and analyze people around me, to read their intentions and present the proper face. Time to carve those faces from myself, and to set them as sentries protecting what only my family and friends can see, and even then, it may never come out.

I know exactly what caused all this too:

I trusted someone once.

It got me held off the floor by my throat and strangled.

No one has to know about the pain that assaulted me for days after that, shooting through my throat or spinal cord when I moved my head. No one has to know about the nightmares that dug their claws into me night after night for years. No one has to know.

No one had to know, not when everyone was focused on finding Asher five days later, then on his healing in the weeks after that.

So I stayed quiet. Grew quiet. And I refuse to let anyone close to my family without being absolutely sure of what they want. We tried that once. Look what that got us.

In fact I get to see where that got us again that night, in the dark of my room, in the depths of my own hellish nightmares.

There's darkness. Complete, inky darkness. I push myself up into a kneeling position and look around. The floor is flawless and smooth like glass, and in it, I can see my reflection. That reflection is pale and shaky. A subdued glow from deep beneath the surface seems to highlight the hollowness in my reflection's face, the deadness in those familiar brown eyes. I have to tear my gaze away from the eerie vision.

A small fire sparks itself to life in a small pit on the horizon. It casts a warm orange light across the darkness, welcoming and enticing. I force myself to shaky feet and start forwards towards the soft glow. It's warm and soothing and it chases away the frigid cold settling into my bones.

My steps are heavy and slow, my body swaying weakly as I beg my knees not to give out. The sound of my feet against the floor echoes across the space, sharp and loud in the silence. My muscles plead for relief, my eyes trying to fall shut, but I have to keep going. I have to drag that dead reflection—is it just a reflection?—to the warmth.

Shapes start to rise from the flat ground around me. They grow slowly as I pass to form beautiful trees of glass, glass that takes the flickering firelight and twists it around itself. The surface is smooth and even, not rough or textured at all. The branches look so delicate, tapering into thin, leafless strands above my head. These trees surround the fire, like I'm in the middle of a carefully crafted forest.

When I have to lean heavily against one of these trees, the glass is cold. It steals the little warmth I have and takes it for its own. All it gives in return is a vague reflection, that same dead reflection the floor offers. With a small groan, I push myself away from the tree and continue forwards.

The fire is close now. I can almost feel its warmth beckoning me closer. Closer and closer and closer until I'm standing right in front of it. The light fills my chest and the heat seeps deep into my soul. It curls up and burrows deep into me, planting its roots in my bones and cementing its foundation in my heart.

He was a light for us. We were lost in the darkness until he came with his offer, his purpose, and his light. His light beat back the shadows that took Lyria, the ones that left my family and a lost werewolf wandering through the forest. His light gave us warmth and we never thought to pay attention to the shadows that that light threw.

Not until it was too late and they'd already caged us in.

A twisted grin.

Burning flesh.

Red eyes.

Manic laughter.

I'm not alone.

He has his signature smirk shining on his lips as he appears between the glass trees. He walks closer and I take a step back as he stops on the other side of the fire pit opposite to me. He's wearing the same clothes he wore that day. The same sandy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Truthfully, he is beautiful. It was all part of his glass face.

He had a mask, a smooth mask made of the most flawless glass. He used it's beauty to lure us in, used it to shield the true horror that lies beneath.

After all, glass catches light, and refracts it somewhere else. You can still see through that glass, but the light is warped and directed away from where you're aiming it. You try to see, but are guided away to be lost in the maze. But then the glass shatters, and the light can shoot straight once again. Straight to what the glass tried to shield.

A twisted grin.

Burning flesh.

Red eyes.

Manic laughter.

He smiles innocently, sings a mocking, "Long time, no see, Little Prince!"

The glass shatters.

The shards rain down as the forest implodes around me. Each tree shatters and blows apart, delicate art destroying itself time and time again. Twinkling stars fall and sing as they hit the ground. He sings too, a cackling laughter of a song.

The ground cracks beneath my feet. The cracks spread outward, weaving across the glass surface like lightning and echoing like thunder. This storm brews quickly and before I can think to move, I'm falling. He merely watches me with a delicate, gentle smile and just before he disappears from my sight, his face morphs. It morphs into a scarred visage, milky white eyes empty and dead, but a horrible smirk covers his lips.

I can't breathe. Cold water surrounds me. It extinguishes the light from the fire and burns my skin. The warmth is still sunk into my heart, it refuses the harsh pull the cold gives in an effort to throw it out. The cold needs to take its place, the cold should take its place, but the warmth is too far in. It's had time to dig its roots deep, deep down into my soul and prepare for the cold's attack.

Where the warmth was once welcomed and thanked, it's now feared and poisonous.

"Come on..."

A twisted grin.

Burning flesh.

Red eyes.

Manic laughter.

"It'll be fun..."

I wake up with a gasp, my eyes snapping open. My heart is racing. I can't breathe. I have to cough a few times to force my lungs to wake up again, to draw in the air I need. It takes a long moment for me to be able to relax. For my muscles to loosen and the tension to fade.

I can still hear his voice. His laughter. It echoes in my head and I hate it.

It's still dark out and I groan at that. There's no way I'm going to get back to sleep. Of course the first nightmare I have about him in years happens the night before my sixteenth birthday.

There's nothing I can do about it now though. Sleep has fled and isn't coming back, leaving me to lie awake with nothing but the ceiling to stare at. It's an old yet familiar routine. With a long sigh, I roll onto my stomach, then return to my back, uncomfortable with leaving myself vulnerable to the shadows. I could turn on the light, but it wouldn't make things any better.

It's the shadows cast by the light that are the most dangerous, after all.

➵

With the night I had, I should have guessed I would feel exhausted today. But I did spend a good few hours reading some more, so I wouldn't exactly say it was a waste...

I'm already feeling tired again and it's not even halfway into the party being held in the backyard of the Royals' house. Everyone else seems to be having fun though.

Gale and Michael are eyeing Killian and Zaine, trying to suppress snickers as they watch my older brother and brother-in-law standing near the snack table. It's clear to me that the two werewolves have staged some sort of prank again, and I'm almost certain Killian has already set something up in retaliation. Sitting quietly in the grass next to me, Coran seems to be working on braiding long blades of grass together, then using his ice magic to freeze the braid and make it last a little longer.

Rhea and her friends are sitting in a circle together, talking and laughing loudly. I can hear the twins Adelaide and Olive roaring with laughter, their cold guards lowered in the company of friends. While they are twins, Adelaide got their father's warlock genes while Olive got their mother's wolf ones. Even more odd, Adelaide can also manipulate ice, and of course, two magic users with the same power knowing each other is pretty rare.

Stacey seems to be talking about the newest trends or something else I don't understand, Zoe and Rhea nodding along, though Zoe looks a little lost. Marissa on the other hand, is happy to sit with her fellow tomboys Clove and Rei and make guesses at the war going on between Gale and Michael, and Killian and Zaine.

Luella is being entertained by the four higher ups of the pack. Scott has the girl sitting in his lap, Dean, Asher and Raiden in front of them. They're playing Telestrations, and from the laughter happening, it's going just as it should.

Coran taps my arm and when I turn my head, he holds out a long blade of grass with a loop tied at the end, a cute grin on his lips. "Hello, can I interest you in a grass noose?"

"Yes," I reply instantly. I take the offered noose and place the tip of my finger in the loop where a tiny head would go. I pull down gently to avoid snapping the blade and the noose tightens around my finger. "Cool... Why do you even know how to tie a noose?"

Coran shrugs sheepishly, a faint dust of pink colouring his cheeks behind his dark brown hair as it hangs over his face when he ducks his head. "Why not?"

I think on this for a second before humming, "That's fair."

The other warlock grins once again and starts searching for another sufficiently long blade in the grass in front of him. I smile watching him and carefully loosen the noose again to twirl it between my thumb and index finger.

The sun is warm against my skin. Warm like the fire in the forest of glass. Warm like reassurance and family and peace. Warm like tenderness, but also like unrelenting fury. I have to take a long breath to steady myself at that reminder.

Don't panic. Don't shake. Don't let them see.

Breathe. Just breathe. There's air, no hands around your throat, just breathe and it will go away.

It will go away. It always goes away and everything is fine. No need for anyone to know.

"Is that a grass noose?"

I look up as Michael and Gale sit down in front of Coran and I, both of them each setting down two paper plates piled with chips and cookies and a cupcake each.

"We brought food," Gale chirps, handing one plate to me and keeping the other for himself as Michael sets one next to Coran.