Two weeks later, I’m wandering along the lake’s edge after dark, the water lapping softly against the shore. The night air is cool, quiet—until sharp cracks echo across the water from Uncle Carl’s house. Fireworks, I think at first. Faint flashes light up their distant windows. I stop and stare, a sting of hurt blooming in my chest. What are they celebrating? And why weren’t we invited?

  Then a scream rips through the trees on my side of the lake—high, terrified, unmistakably female.

  My heart slams against my ribs. Without thinking, I bolt toward the sound.

  I burst into a small clearing and freeze.

  Aunt Amber is sprinting straight at me, face twisted in raw panic, dragging Luna behind her. Both are in pajamas, barefoot, eyes wide with terror.

  Amber sees me and her voice breaks. “Meleek—run!”

  Before I can move, a gunshot explodes behind them.

  Amber jerks forward, stumbling. Blood blooms dark across her back. She collapses, sliding across the dirt until she stops at my feet.

  “Momma—no!” Luna shrieks, dropping to her knees beside her mother, trying desperately to pull her up.

  I can’t move. Can’t breathe. The world narrows to the blood soaking into the ground.

  Amber coughs, pushing weakly at Luna. “Ru—”

  Another shot.

  Her head snaps forward. She goes limp in Luna’s arms.

  Luna’s scream is inhuman—pure, shattering agony—as she clutches her mother’s body, rocking, sobbing.

  The hunter steps out of the shadows, rifle raised, chambering another round. He swings the barrel toward Luna.

  Something inside me snaps.

  Heat floods my veins. My vision whites out. The ground trembles.

  Sticks, leaves, pebbles—everything around me lifts into the air as my eyes blaze bright, unnatural white.

  The man’s gaze snaps to me. Fear flashes across his face.

  Too late.

  Roots erupt from the earth like spears, coiling around his legs, his torso. Vines snake down from the trees, wrapping his throat. He’s yanked upward, choking, rifle firing wildly—one bullet grazes my hair, singeing strands away.

  Another figure emerges from the treeline, rifle up.

  I fling my hand out. More vines surge—

  “Meleek—stop! It’s me!”

  Lucian.

  I yank the vines back just in time. He drops to his knees, rifle clattering away.

  He looks past me. Sees Luna cradling their mother.

  “Mom…” The word breaks. He scrambles over, falling beside them, hands shaking as he touches Amber’s face. Reality hits him like a fist. He crumples, sobs tearing out of him.

  I stumble closer, tears burning down my cheeks. The distant gunshots continue—no fireworks. Just death.

  Lucian gathers Amber’s body into his arms as if she weighs nothing and carries her toward our house. Mom and Kylie are home. The moment they see him in the doorway, bloodied and carrying her, their screams join the night.

  Kylie calls 911 with trembling hands. Mom phones Dad—he drops everything and races home.

  Carl arrives with a group of men, clothes torn, bullet holes stitched through fabric, blood staining shirts—but they’re walking. Talking in low, urgent voices. They send Kylie and me out of the room.

  But my ears catch fragments: attackers sent to wipe out the family… orders from outside… territory war.

  Mafia, I think again. Or something worse.

  I’ve never seen Carl cry. The man who laughed off broken bones, who faced down that black void in the temple without flinching—he shatters. Shoulders heaving, face buried in his hands, broken sounds escaping that no child should ever hear from a father.

  They take Amber away.

  Carl leaves with Lucian and the men, eyes hollow. Luna stays with us.

  She cries until her voice is gone. For days she sleeps curled between my parents, clinging like she’s five again. No one pushes her away.

  The night of the funeral, she’s left with us again. After the house quiets, she slips outside alone, down to the lake.

  Hours pass. Rain starts threatening.

  Mom finds me in my room, staring blankly at the TV.

  “Meleek, honey, can you go check on Luna? It’s starting to rain. I’m worried.”

  “Yeah,” I mumble, shutting off the screen.

  I step into the damp night, calling her name along the shore.

  Nothing.

  Rain begins—soft at first, then harder. Worry twists tighter.

  Then I hear it: singing. Soft, broken, drifting from the woods.

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  Her voice.

  I follow it and find her crouched exactly where Amber died. The earth is still scarred—tangled roots and vines jutting up like a grave marker from where my power exploded.

  She’s singing the lullaby Amber used to hum to her—to both of us—when nightmares kept us awake.

  The rain has plastered her hair to her face. Tears mix with droplets on her cheeks.

  She hears my footsteps, stops mid-note, and turns.

  “Go away, Meleek. I want to be alone.”

  I step closer anyway. “You’ve been gone a long time. Mom’s worried. It’s pouring—you’ll get sick.”

  “I don’t care. Leave.”

  “You know I can’t. I’ll get in trouble.” I crouch, hold out my hand. “Come on—”

  She slaps it away and surges to her feet, shoving me hard. “I said leave me alone!”

  The push sends me stumbling backward. My head cracks against a tree trunk.

  Pain explodes white-hot. I slide to the ground, clutching the back of my skull, tears springing instantly.

  For a split second, regret flashes across her face—she takes half a step toward me.

  Then she turns away, shoulders shaking, arms wrapped tight around herself as rain hammers down on us both.

  “Now go away.”

  I rub the throbbing spot on the back of my head and force myself to stand. The rain is a cold curtain around us. “Fine,” I mutter, voice cracking. “Sit out here and freeze. See if I care.”

  I take two steps—then her words stop me cold.

  “I wish you’d just let me die that night. Then I could be with my mom.”

  The air leaves my lungs. I turn back, heart splintering.

  She’s curled on the ground now, knees drawn tight to her chest, forehead pressed against them, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

  “Luna… please come back with me,” I beg, voice barely above the rain.

  “Leave me alone. I’ll come home when I’m ready.”

  The downpour intensifies, soaking us both to the bone. I can’t leave her like this. I just… can’t.

  I step closer and raise a hand. An invisible dome shimmers into existence above us—the rain slides off, drumming on nothing inches from our heads.

  She lifts her face, water streaming down her cheeks, eyes red and hollow.

  “Fine,” I say softly. “I’ll wait right here until you’re ready.”

  She stares at me, then at the dry circle around us. “Why are you doing this? You hate me like everyone else. The only person who ever really had my back was Mom… and now she’s gone.”

  Her voice breaks on the last word, and something inside me breaks with it.

  “Not everyone hates you,” I whisper. “My parents love you like their own daughter. And I—” The words stick. “I don’t hate you. I never could.”

  “I just miss her so much.” She curls tighter, lying down in the mud like she wants the earth to swallow her.

  I stand there helpless, tears mixing with rain on my face, wishing I could pull the pain out of her chest and carry it myself.

  In the distance, my parents’ voices call our names, frantic.

  I shout back, guiding them.

  Luna doesn’t move—just sobs into the dirt.

  I kneel slowly, trembling, and rest my hand on her soaked hair, stroking gently like Mom does when I’m sick.

  Mom and Dad arrive with umbrellas, faces pale with worry. Mom drops hers the second she sees Luna and pulls her into her arms. Luna clings like a little kid, burying her face in Mom’s shoulder the whole way home.

  Dinner is silent. Luna—Luna who can out-eat all of us combined—pokes at her food, eyes distant, and barely manages three bites.

  Later that night, after the house goes quiet and I assume she’s asleep with my parents, I finish my shower and slip back into my room.

  She’s sitting on the edge of my bed, knees drawn up again, staring at nothing.

  “I thought you were asleep,” I say softly. “You okay?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Your dad snores like a freight train.”

  I huff a tiny laugh. “Yeah. I can hear him from here.” I nod at the TV. “Want to watch something?”

  She shrugs. “When I couldn’t sleep, Mom used to sit with me… stroke my hair until I drifted off.”

  “I remember her singing to you. Come on.”

  She scoots up, pulling the blanket over her legs. I toss her the remote and climb in on the other side.

  “Pick whatever.”

  She lands on one of those supernatural teen dramas we used to watch together. We sit in heavy silence, the glow from the screen the only light.

  After two episodes I yawn, rubbing my eyes.

  She notices. “Am I keeping you up?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  Another minute—another yawn.

  She turns off the TV. “You’re tired. Go to sleep.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll watch downstairs until I’m sleepy.”

  I’m half-asleep already, brain fuzzy. “Just… crash here. I won’t snore like Dad.”

  She hesitates. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re a boy. I’m a girl. And we… kissed.”

  I laugh quietly, remembering that disastrous Seven Minutes in Heaven at Kylie’s party a few weeks ago—how the others teased her mercilessly, how I only went in to shut them up. How I made those soft blue lights dance around us like stars to calm her down, revealing my magic for the first time. How our lips barely brushed before we both pulled away, mortified.

  “Luna, you’re basically my sister. And didn’t you swear kissing me was the grossest thing ever because you ‘like girls’?” I grab a pillow and wedge it between us like a wall. “There. Barrier. I’ll even face the other way.” I roll over. “Or go share with Kylie—she loves when you sprawl all over her. Your choice. Lights off when you leave.”

  I close my eyes.

  The mattress shifts as she stands. I wait for the door.

  Instead, the room goes dark. The bed dips again. Blanket rustles.

  “Goodnight, Luna,” I whisper, smiling into my pillow.

  “Goodnight.”

  Sleep pulls me under fast—but not for long.

  “Meleek,” she whispers, voice small. “I lied to you.”

  I’m barely conscious. “Hm?”

  “I’m not gay. I like boys.”

  “Cool,” I mumble. “Forgiven.”

  Silence.

  I’m drifting again when—

  “I think I like you.”

  My eyes snap open. Heart hammers so hard I’m sure she can hear it.

  “I know you don’t feel the same,” she continues, voice trembling. “But I needed to say it. So I’d know for sure I’m not… because I like you.”

  I lie frozen, staring at the wall, mind racing. My best friend just confessed she likes me. Me. The elf kid everyone used to call names. The one who’s never had a real crush, never thought anyone would ever…

  “Are you asleep?” she asks quietly.

  I don’t answer. Can’t.

  She sighs and turns away.

  I stare into the dark for what feels like forever, heart pounding, questions swirling. Do I like her? That kiss was awkward, but… maybe if things were different. Maybe if I let myself feel it.

  Her breathing evens out—she’s asleep.

  Then she tenses. A soft, pained moan escapes.

  “No… Mom…”

  Tears sting my eyes instantly. She’s dreaming of that night.

  She whimpers again, rolling onto her back. A tear slips from the corner of her eye into her hair.

  I can’t just lie here.

  Gently, I rest my hand on her head and begin humming the lullaby Amber always sang—the one Luna was singing in the rain.

  Her breathing steadies. The tension eases from her face.

  Another tear falls.

  I stop, afraid I’m making it worse.

  Her eyes flutter open. A soft, sad smile curves her lips. “Don’t stop.”

  I stroke her damp hair and sing again, voice barely above a whisper.

  Near the end, her eyes open once more. She looks at me—really looks—and joins in, voice shaky but clear.

  We finish together.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “Anytime.”

  We fall asleep facing each other, the pillow barrier forgotten.

  Morning light wakes us to Mom opening the door. I brace for a lecture, but she just smiles softly—like she understands—and tells us Carl’s here with Harley and others for an important family meeting.

  At breakfast, Carl drops the bomb: they’re moving north. Far away. For safety. The people who killed Amber might come for the rest of the family.

  He suggests we move too.

  My parents—after only a year here—agree.

  Kylie storms out, furious.

  Luna flees the restaurant in tears, Harley chasing after her.

  I sit there numb.

  I’m losing my best friend. Maybe forever.

  We relocate to Utah, near another old friend of my parents—a headmaster at a private academy Kylie starts attending.

  Contact with Carl’s family goes dark. Witness protection, my parents say, until the threat is gone.

  I sink into a gray depression for months.

  But eventually, something shifts.

  I start working out—running, lifting, pushing until my body changes. The scrawny, baby-faced elf kid fades. I cut my long platinum hair short and messy. Hit a growth spurt that shoots me up nearly a foot.

  Confidence creeps in.

  And for the first time, I really notice girls.

  But no matter how much I change on the outside, late at night I still think about a girl with golden eyes who once told me, in the dark, that she liked me.

  And I still wonder what I would’ve said if I hadn’t pretended to be asleep.