The clock had been ticking since Leyla left the house, each second snapping through the room like static in the air, so thick it felt almost breathable.

  Evelyn, nerves fraying with every beat, grabbed the phone and dialed her daughter’s number. It rang, then cut off, swallowed by the flat, indifferent voice of voicemail. The silence that followed felt heavier than stone.

  Outside, the wind lashed rain against the shutters, carrying with it a chorus of dark omens that slid into Evelyn’s thoughts like knives.

  “I don’t like this,” she whispered, arms locked tight around herself.

  Trying to distract herself, she started folding the clean laundry, burying her face in the fabric and breathing in the scent of lavender. But even that familiar ritual couldn’t quiet the storm building inside her. The agitation kept climbing, relentless.

  She wished with all her being that this dread was only in her mind, but she knew her instincts were rarely wrong.

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  “I can’t just sit here. I’ve gotta do something or I’ll lose my damn mind.”

  Her eyes swept across the kitchen, desperate for a sign, anything that might point her toward Leyla.

  “I’m wasting time. There’s nothing here that will lead me to her.”

  She was about to leave when her gaze snagged on a brightly colored mug. Leyla’s mug. The one she’d used since childhood, a gift from her grandmother.

  “This will do,” she whispered, a flash of hope sparking in her eyes.

  Evelyn carried a rare gift: the ability to summon visions of the past, the present, and sometimes the future, by focusing on objects tied to the person she sought. A power she used sparingly, only when it truly mattered.

  But this time wasn’t about a stranger. This was about Leyla. And the anxiety clawing at her made even the simplest part of her gift feel unreachable.

  Clutching the mug in both hands, she tried to connect with the energy woven into it. But the wave of panic crashed over her, blurring her senses, smothering the gift she relied on.

  “No… not now!”

  She clenched her jaw, fighting the storm inside her until she managed to steady herself in a fragile balance.

  When she was ready, she raised the mug toward the ceiling. Light burst from her palms, fierce and unreal.

  The object began to vibrate. Soft at first, then stronger. Until a scream ripped through the silence.

  “Oh God, please, no!”

  Tears blurred her vision. Tremors racked her body, her heart slamming against her ribs. The mug slipped from her hands, shattering into a thousand pieces across the floor.

  The circle of uncertainty broke. And with it, a door opened onto a fate still unknown.

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