Three years passed.
The Frewin house stayed the same.
The world outside did not.
The children were fifteen now, taller, sharper, louder in their silences. Hendrix sat cross-legged in the backyard, a guitar resting against his knee, fingers drifting across the strings without a song in mind. Vida knelt nearby, sleeves rolled up as she examined the flowerbed Mrs. Frewin had planted earlier that spring.
"I liked that one," Vida said after a moment. "The song. It sounded… softer."
Hendrix shrugged, eyes on the fretboard. "Didn't mean for it to."
Vida smiled anyway. She brushed dirt from her palms and leaned closer to the lilies. "Do you like these better, or the daffodils?"
"They're both trying," Hendrix said. "Just in different ways."
She laughed under her breath. "That's a very you answer."
"Ugh, gross." Akilah dropped her book onto the grass behind them. "I leave you two alone for five minutes and it's already unbearable."
"It's not like that," Vida said quickly.
"Relax," Akilah replied, grabbing her book off the ground. "If it was, I'd be louder about it."
Vida rolled her eyes and turned back to the flowers. She reached out, meaning only to brush the petal.
A wave of pain lanced up her arm.
Not sharp. Not burning. A pressure, deep and humming, like something had grabbed her bones from the inside.
Green light flared around her hand.
The soil shifted. Roots groaned.
The lilies surged upward, stems thickening, petals unfolding in seconds where weeks should have passed. Leaves snapped open with wet sounds, towering over the bed.
Vida screamed and stumbled backward.
The light vanished.
The flowers stood fully grown, trembling.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Hendrix's fingers slipped from the strings. His heart hammered as he scanned the yard, the fence, the neighboring rooftops. "Did anyone…?"
"No," Vida said, breathless. Her hands shook. "I didn't mean to. I just- I didn't-"
Akilah was already on her feet. "Let's go."
Vida didn't argue. She grabbed Hendrix's wrist and dragged him toward the back door, glancing over her shoulder as if the flowers might move again.
They nearly collided with Mrs. Frewin in the hallway.
"Vida?" she asked, then froze at the sight of her face. "What happened?"
"The flowers," Vida gasped. "They- they grew. I didn't- it just-"
Mr. Frewin was already there. One look at the two of them, and his jaw tightened.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Everyone inside. All of you."
The living room felt smaller with all five teenagers crammed onto the couch. Chase lounged with one arm around Amora, smirking like this was a prank. Akilah sat forward, elbows on her knees. Hendrix stood near the wall, arms folded tight against his chest.
"So," Chase said, breaking the silence. "Either Vida's messing with us, or the house is haunted."
"I'm not lying," Vida snapped.
"I know," Akilah said. Her eyes never left the Frewins. "You wouldn't."
Mr. Frewin exhaled slowly. "What Vida did wasn't magic."
Chase groaned. "Oh no."
"It's called Spirit," Mrs. Frewin said gently. "And yes, before you ask, it's real."
They didn't explain everything. Not yet.
They talked about energy. About control. About how some people were born closer to it than others. About why it had to stay secret.
"The Regime doesn't allow this," Mr. Frewin said. "Not because it's dangerous, but because it makes people hard to control."
"Then why tell us?" Amora asked softly.
Mrs. Frewin hesitated. "Because it's starting. And because pretending you don't have it won't protect you."
Silence settled heavy over the room.
Mr. Frewin raised his hand.
Flame bloomed from his palm.
Chase fell over the back of the couch. Vida shrieked. Akilah leaned closer, eyes wide. Amora covered her mouth. Hendrix didn't move at all.
The fire didn't spread. It curled obediently, alive and waiting.
"This," Mr. Frewin said, extinguishing it, "is why we had to tell you."
That night, Hendrix lay awake staring at the ceiling, fingers twitching like they wanted strings that weren't there.
At school the next morning, everything felt wrong.
The pledge echoed through the classroom, voices rising in perfect unison. Hendrix stood, but the words stuck in his throat. He moved his lips anyway.
Vida didn't.
The teacher noticed.
At lunch, Chase talked big. Akilah argued. Amora worried. Hendrix listened.
By the time they walked home, the fear had twisted into something else.
Resolve.
The Frewins were waiting.
"Can you teach us?" Vida asked, before anyone else could speak.
Mr. Frewin studied them for a long moment.
"Yes," he said. "But understand this: once you start, you don't stop. And if anyone finds out…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
None of them asked him to.