The farmhouse breathed with a heavy, rhythmic stillness. Downstairs, the twins' parents—Thomas and Elena—slept with minds that were uncharacteristically peaceful for the year 2040. Jessica had spent the evening hovering at the edge of their consciousness, finding only warmth and a fierce, protective instinct that had already latched onto Sofia. They weren't soldiers or spies; they were just people who had forgotten what it felt like to have something worth dying for until the girl in the emerald sweater walked through their door.
But in the dead of night, the peace shattered for one person.
The Shadow in the HallSofia's sleep was never deep. It was a minefield of borrowed ghosts. In the middle of the night, a nightmare—a jagged memory of the boy's shattered knee and the cold, void-like silence of Wane—tore through her mind.
She scrambled out of the large, soft bed, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The emerald sweater trailed behind her like a heavy shroud, the oversized sleeves flapping as she reached out into the dark.
"Jess?" she whimpered, her voice a fragile thread. "Jess, the dark thoughts are back."
Confused by the unfamiliar layout of the hallway, Sofia turned left instead of right. She pushed open a door, her eyes blurred with tears, searching for the only anchor she had ever known.
The Comfort of a StrangerIt wasn't Jessica's room. Mira sat up instantly, her sleep-muddled mind snapping into focus the second she sensed Sofia's presence. The "Influence" hit her like a physical wave—a desperate, heartbreaking pull that made Mira's own heart ache in sympathy.
"Sofia? What's wrong?" Mira whispered, sliding out of bed.
"I can't... I can't find the white wall," Sofia sobbed, her small body shaking under the weight of the oversized wool.
Mira didn't hesitate. She didn't call for Jessica. Driven by an intense, almost magnetic devotion, she gathered the smaller girl into her arms. She pulled Sofia onto her bed, wrapping her in a thick, lavender-scented quilt.
"It's okay. You're safe here," Mira murmured, tucking Sofia's head against her shoulder. She began to rock her, the rhythmic motion slowly calming the girl's tremors. "No one can get into this valley. Not the men in white, not the shadows. I promise."
The ConfrontationThe door creaked open.
Jessica stood in the threshold, her eyes glowing with a cold, telepathic intensity. She had woken the moment Sofia's distress spiked, but she had been a second too slow. Seeing her sister—her sister—cradled in Mira's arms sent a flare of white-hot jealousy through her.
"Let her go," Jessica said, her voice a low, dangerous vibration.
Mira didn't flinch. In fact, she tightened her hold on Sofia, looking up at Jessica with a defiance fueled by the "Influence."
"She was terrified, Jessica," Mira confronted her, her voice steady. "She was wandering the halls crying for you, and you weren't there. Why is she so scared? What has happened to her that she can't even sleep through the night without shaking like she's dying?"
Jessica stepped into the room, her hands clenched into fists. "You don't know anything about her. You don't know what she carries."
"I know she's a twelve-year-old girl who looks like she's carrying the weight of the entire war on her shoulders!" Mira shot back, her voice rising. "You treat her like she's a prisoner, or a porcelain doll you're about to break. She needs a home, Jessica. She needs to be a child, not a ghost on the run."
Sofia looked up between them, her eyes wide and wet. "Don't fight," she whispered, her voice accidentally radiating a command for peace that made both older girls' hearts stutter.
Jessica felt the pull of Sofia's power and fought it, her teeth gritting. She looked at Mira—who was looking at Sofia with a pure, unburdened love that Jessica could never afford to have—and felt a hollow ache of envy. Mira could offer Sofia a normal life. Jessica could only offer her a survival.
"Come here, Jess," Jessica said, her voice softening just enough to be a command.
Sofia hesitated, looking at the warmth of Mira's quilt, then back to the sharp, familiar safety of her sister. Slowly, she untangled herself from Mira and walked toward Jessica, the emerald sweater trailing on the floor.
"We're leaving soon," Jessica whispered to Mira, catching her eye. "Before you forget who she really is."