The rest of the day stretched on, and thanks to Claire and Calvin I had almost managed to forget the stranger and the way his unsettling gaze clung to me. Every smile they offered, every word they spoke sounded genuinely warm, but no matter how much they tried, I couldn't shake the burning weight of the key in my pocket.
Every time I thought I could ignore it, my hand drifted back on its own.
It burned.
Not like heat from metal—no. It felt alive. Heavy in a way that suggested the thing carried its own memory, its own will. My fingers kept tracing the strange engraving, and every time I brushed it, a cold shiver crawled up the back of my neck.
I was sinking too deep into that feeling when Calvin snapped me back to reality.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked, brows furrowed.
"Y-yeah… I'm fine," I stammered, startled. "Where's Claire?" I added, suddenly noticing her absence.
"She went to the bathroom."
"Oh… alright," I murmured, uneasy.
A thick silence settled between us.
I guess that was normal. It had been so long since we'd talked alone—just the two of us, like the old days. Ever since Serena showed up, Calvin had drifted away from us. And high school had carved an even deeper gap, despite how much he'd supported me after Dad's death. Things had never gone back to what they were.
A wave of nostalgia squeezed my chest.
I missed our little group. Terribly.
Thankfully, Claire returned at just the right moment.
"So? What did I miss?" she asked, sitting back down.
"Not much," Calvin replied.
"What do you mean? Come on, tell me," she insisted, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
To stop the awkwardness from growing, I stood up under the pretext of getting us something to drink.
As I slipped my hand into my pocket, purely out of reflex, my fingers brushed the key.
It had become scorching—almost unbearable.
I jerked slightly, and at that exact moment, the café doorbell chimed.
My heart lurched.
It was just an ordinary customer.
And yet… something inside me tightened. A faint pressure crushed my chest, as though something was wrong. As though something had shifted.
---
Night fell over Raven's Shade like a heavy curtain.
The streets filled with shifting shadows, and the silence grew thicker than usual. I left the café later than I normally did—William had to step out, and I'd used the quiet to delay the moment I'd be alone with my thoughts.
But the second I stepped outside, I knew solitude was worse.
I took out the key.
It felt normal again—cold, harmless.
But as I turned it between my fingers, I could've sworn the engraving changed. The simple circle crossed by a broken line… had become something else. A circle marked with a strange geometric pattern.
Had I imagined it?
A memory burst inside my mind like a bubble rising from deep water.
Shattered glass.
A distant scream.
A blurred silhouette.
My hands trembled.
I closed my fist around the key, shaken.
"No… it's nothing," I whispered to myself.
But the ridiculous idea that had just sprouted refused to die.
I pushed it away violently and kept walking.
---
At home, Mom wasn't back yet.
Daniel either—he had told me he was staying at a friend's place for the night.
Silence filled the house, heavier than it should have been.
I went up to my room and placed the key on my desk.
But my eyes wouldn't leave it.
It felt like it was watching me. Calling me.
Eventually, I gave in.
I grabbed my journal—the one where I scribbled thoughts I never dared say aloud. Slowly, I started drawing the symbol.
The lines came alive under my pen, weaving together, forming that strange shape.
A shape I felt like I had always known.
Then the window slammed.
A violent gust of wind swept through the room, sending the pages flying around me. And within that icy breath, a voice echoed.
Deep.
Distant.
Resonant.
"You've begun, Avery."
My blood froze.
I jerked upright, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break through my ribs.
The room was empty.
But I wasn't alone.
---
Outside, a figure stood in the street, watching my window.
Gabe.
His steel-gray eyes gleamed under the lamplight, fixed on my room.
A slow, unreadable smile stretched across his lips.
"She remembers," he whispered.
A second silhouette slipped out of the darkness behind him.
"So… the time has come?" a rough voice murmured.
Gabe didn't answer right away.
His eyes never left my window, where the moonlight brushed the scattered pages inside.
Finally, he breathed, almost to himself:
"Yes.
But she isn't ready.
Not yet."
---