POV: Aria
The suitcase won't close.
I shove down harder on the lid, my hands shaking as laughter explodes from the floor below. They're celebrating. Of course they're celebrating.
"Good riddance to the charity case!" Victoria's voice cuts through the floorboards like a knife. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out, step-sister!"
More laughter. My father's drunken singing joins in, slurred and off-key. Regina's high-pitched giggle makes my stomach twist.
I press harder on the suitcase. The lock finally clicks.
That's it. Eighteen years of my life packed into one worn bag that's held together with duct tape. Three shirts. Two pairs of jeans. My mother's necklace—the only thing Regina hasn't stolen yet.
The light above my head flickers.
I freeze, watching the bare bulb swing slightly. No. Not now. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. The light steadies.
This keeps happening. When I'm upset, weird things occur. Lights flicker. Objects move. Last week, when Sebastian pushed me down the stairs, I swear time slowed down—just long enough for me to catch the railing.
But that's impossible. I'm nobody. Just the unwanted stepdaughter sleeping in an attic that's supposed to be storage.
I grab my acceptance letter from under my pillow, reading it for the hundredth time. Elysian Academy cordially invites Aria Blackwell...
My ticket out. My escape.
I earned this scholarship through endless nights studying by flashlight after everyone else went to bed. Through forging my father's signature on applications because he was too drunk to hold a pen. Through pretending I didn't hear Regina telling her friends I'd never amount to anything.
"You still up there?" Victoria yells. "We're turning your room into a gaming lounge tomorrow! Finally putting that space to good use!"
My hands crench the letter. The mirror on my wall cracks—a thin line splitting right down the center.
I stare at it, my heart pounding. I didn't touch it. I'm standing five feet away.
The crack spreads, branching out like lightning.
"Stop," I whisper to myself. "Stop it. Calm down."
The cracking stops.
I grab my suitcase and run for the door before anything else can happen.
The stairs creak under my feet. I can see them in the living room—my father slumped in his chair with a bottle, Regina perched on the arm like a vulture, Sebastian and Victoria sprawled on the couch I used to sleep on before they kicked me to the attic.
They don't notice me. They never do unless they want someone to yell at.
I should say goodbye. A normal person would say goodbye to their family, even a terrible one.
But my feet carry me to the front door instead.
My hand touches the doorknob. It's cold, like everything else in this house.
"Wait."
I turn. My father is looking at me. Actually looking, his eyes focusing for the first time in months.
"Dad?" My voice comes out smaller than I want.
He opens his mouth. For one heartbreaking second, I think he might apologize. Might tell me he's sorry for choosing alcohol over his daughter. Might admit he knew what Regina was doing all these years and did nothing.
"Don't embarrass the family name," he says instead. Then he takes another drink.
Something inside me dies. Some tiny spark of hope I didn't know I was still carrying.
I walk out. I don't slam the door. I close it quietly, gently, like I'm tucking in a corpse.
The night air hits my face. October in the city—cold enough to see my breath. The street is empty except for old Mr. Chen closing his grocery store across the street.
I stand on the porch, my suitcase in one hand, acceptance letter in the other. Behind me is the house where I grew up. Where my mother died. Where I learned that family doesn't mean love and home doesn't mean safety.
I should feel sad. I should cry.
Instead, I feel nothing.
I turn back for one last look. The house is ordinary. Peeling paint. Crooked shutters. Nothing special. Nothing worth remembering.
Except—
The lights in every window flicker in perfect unison.
Then the power goes out completely, plunging the entire house into darkness.
I hear Regina's shriek. My father's cursing. Sebastian and Victoria yelling.
The lights come back on.
I'm still standing there, frozen, my hand tingling with energy I don't understand.
Did I do that?
No. Impossible. The power company probably—
The streetlight above me explodes in a shower of sparks.
I stumble backward, my heart racing. Glass rains down on the sidewalk, glittering like diamonds under the moon.
Mr. Chen pokes his head out of his store, looking at the broken light, then at me.
I run.
My suitcase bangs against my leg as I sprint down the street, not looking back, not thinking, just moving. The acceptance letter crumples in my fist.
Two blocks away, I finally stop, gasping for air.
My hands are shaking. No—they're glowing. Faint, barely visible, but definitely glowing with a soft silver light.
I shove them in my pockets, looking around wildly. The street is empty. No one saw.
What is happening to me?
The acceptance letter is still in my hand, wrinkled but readable. Tomorrow, I'm supposed to take a bus to some abandoned subway station where a "special transport" will take me to Elysian Academy.
I thought it was just a school. A really good, really exclusive school.
But what if it's something else?
What if they know what I am—whatever I am?
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number:
Tomorrow. Don't be late. They're waiting for you.
I stare at the message. I didn't give anyone my number.
I look up at the sky. The stars are brighter than they should be in the city. Or maybe I'm just seeing things differently now.
Behind me, in the distance, I hear sirens.
I start walking toward the bus station, toward tomorrow, toward whatever's waiting at Elysian Academy.
Because even if I wanted to go back—and I don't—I don't think the lights would let me.