Lenna pov
The encrypted message appeared on my private channel—a channel I'd maintained for over four years despite everyone telling me it was a futile gesture. The familiar coding pattern made my heart skip a beat before I even read the words.
The Blue Quill Bookstore. Thursday, 8 AM. Come alone. -M
My hands trembled as I stared at the screen. Miri. After all this time, after weeks of searching S City, she had reached out to me. Part of me wanted to alert the family immediately, to mobilize our resources, to ensure she couldn't disappear again. But the signature—just "M"—was deliberate. A reminder of our childhood code, our private language. Come alone.
I replied without hesitation:
I'll be there. -L
I told no one about the meeting. Not Mother, whose storm powers had been dangerously unstable since Amiriah's escape. Not Father, who would insist on security protocols. Not my siblings, who would want to be included. This was between twins—between Miri and me—and I wouldn't betray that trust before we'd even begun to rebuild it.
The morning of the meeting, I arrived at the Blue Quill thirty minutes early, selecting a corner table with a clear view of all exits. I ordered two coffees—mine with cream and vanilla, and one black with two sugars, the way Miri had always taken hers. Such a small detail, but it felt important to remember.
When she entered the bookstore, I almost didn't recognize her. Not because she looked different—we still mirrored each other physically—but because she moved differently. Gone was the open, fluid grace of my twin. This Amiriah moved like a predator, eyes constantly scanning, body tense and ready to flee or fight.
"Miri," I whispered as she approached, standing but deliberately maintaining my distance. The memory of her violent reaction to touch at the mansion was still fresh.
"Lenna," she acknowledged, her voice controlled as she slid into the seat across from me.
We studied each other in silence. The years had shaped us differently. I wondered what she saw when she looked at me—the sister who still lived in luxury while she suffered? The twin who hadn't saved her?
"I wasn't sure you'd come," I finally said, breaking the silence.
"I wasn't sure I would either."
I pushed one of the coffee cups toward her. "Black, two sugars. If you still take it that way."
Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, perhaps a touch of softness. "I do."
We talked cautiously at first—stilted, careful exchanges that revealed nothing. But time was limited, and I needed her to understand what she was facing by returning to S City.
"The family has been looking everywhere for you," I said, leaning forward. "Everyone's... they're not doing well, Miri."
I described the chaos at home—Mother's deteriorating control, Father's insomnia, our siblings' increasingly desperate methods. I watched her face as I spoke, searching for any sign that she cared, that some part of her still felt connected to us.
"They're sorry," I continued. "All of them. For drugging you, for bringing you to the mansion against your will. They were just so desperate to keep you safe, to talk to you... It was wrong. They know that now."
"It'll take more than an apology," she said quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.
"I know." I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal about what I'd discovered. "Miri, S City isn't as safe as it was four years ago. Things have... changed."
Her expression sharpened. "What do you mean?"
I told her about the disappearances, the victims returned half-dead, their powers and souls drained. I watched her closely as I mentioned the darkness they'd described—moving shadows that weren't natural.
"That's not me, if that's what you're suggesting," she said immediately, tension visible in the set of her shoulders.
"I know it's not. But whatever it is..." I chose my words carefully, "I think it might be connected to what happened to you at GreyStone."
I was about to tell her about Project K, about the Spear of Darkness, about Luke Blackwood's involvement—but her phone rang, interrupting us.
The transformation that came over her as she listened to the caller was shocking. All color drained from her face, her eyes widening with a horror so profound it seemed to physically pain her.
"Dr. Johns is dead," she said into the phone, her voice hollow. "He died in the fire. I saw him die."
Then, as if forgetting I was there, she continued in a whisper: "He didn't just see me as a perfect test subject. He saw me as his ideal wife he was trying to make for himself."
My stomach clenched as she kept talking, seemingly unaware she was speaking aloud. The horrors she described—being controlled, forced to kill, forced to please this doctor—made bile rise in my throat.
"He tried to have a child with me," she said, her voice distant, eyes unfocused. "When it didn't happen naturally, he started the gene tube project..."
I felt sick. The family had sent her to GreyStone for help, for treatment, and instead she had been subjected to... this. No wonder she couldn't bear to be touched. No wonder she had run from us. We had delivered her into the hands of monsters.
I was about to reach for her, to say something—anything—when I saw her freeze, her entire body going rigid with terror. A man had appeared behind her, his hand casually stroking her hair, a possessive gesture that made my skin crawl.
"My dearest Amiriah," he said, his voice cultured, clinical. "I've been looking for you since the fire. I knew you wouldn't die."
He leaned down as if to kiss her forehead, and I saw Amiriah gag, her body physically rejecting his touch. Something in me snapped—a primal, protective rage I hadn't known I was capable of.
I lunged across the table, my fist connecting with his face before I'd even made a conscious decision to move. "Don't. Touch. My. Sister." Each word was punctuated by another blow as I drove him backward.
When I finally stopped, breathing hard, the man straightened, wiping blood from his lip with a disturbing smile. He addressed Amiriah as if I hadn't just attacked him.
"I know where you live, Amiriah. My team is outside your safe house right now. I would love to know what you're hiding there and take it for myself."
The panic that swept across my sister's face was unlike anything I'd ever seen—raw, animalistic terror.
"You wouldn't," she said, her voice shaking. "You don't know where I live. Stop lying!"
His smile widened as he showed her something on his phone—surveillance footage of a house surrounded by some kind of barrier. Whatever he was showing her caused my sister to pale further, if that was even possible. Her eyes held an expression of such desperate fear that it chilled me to the bone.
Darkness began to swirl around her hands—her power responding to her emotional state. But something was wrong. The darkness seemed sluggish, incomplete.
Behind us, Dr. Johns laughed, the sound making my skin crawl. "You can't get there. I've blocked any more darkness from flowing back to that house. Clever little device, don't you think? Based on your own power signature."
Before I could react, Amiriah turned and ran, vanishing through the bookstore entrance. I called after her, but she was already gone, sprinting down the street as if her life depended on it.
I turned back to Dr. Johns, grabbing him by his expensive lapels. "What did you do?" I demanded, shaking him. "What are you after?"
His smile didn't falter, even as blood trickled from his split lip. "I'm just playing with my precious toy," he said, his voice smooth and unaffected. "She always was my favorite experiment."
Rage boiled through me. I dragged him outside and threw him toward two of my shadow guards who had been monitoring the meeting discreetly from across the street.
"Finish him," I ordered coldly. "I want him dead."
As they took him away, I grabbed his phone, quickly tracing the location of the house in the surveillance video. It wasn't difficult—I hadn't spent years developing my hacking skills for nothing.
Within twenty minutes, I had tracked the location to a hidden property at the edge of the forest outside S City. I drove there at breakneck speed, prepared for anything.
What I wasn't prepared for was the sight that met me as I approached the house. The protective barrier around it was shattered, and just as I was about to enter, something—someone—collided with me.
Amiriah stood before me, but not the controlled, cautious woman from the café. This was a creature of nightmare—covered in blood, her eyes wild and unfocused, her entire body vibrating with barely contained violence. She looked like she was on the edge of complete breakdown.
I grabbed her shoulders instinctively, both to steady her and to ensure she didn't run again. "We can help you," I said urgently. "Whatever you're looking for, we can help you, Amiriah."
Her eyes finally focused on me, desperation clear in their depths. "Scan the city," she said, her voice breaking. "The shadows, anywhere in the city—look for two big darkness wolves."
The request was bizarre, but I didn't hesitate. "I will. The family has resources, technology. We'll find them." I paused, then added what I knew would be a difficult condition: "But I have one condition. You move back into the mansion for safety. You'll have your own space, your own security. But we can protect you there, Miri. And we can help you find what you're looking for."
I expected argument, refusal. Instead, she simply said, "Fine. Just find them. Find the wolves."
I immediately made calls, activating every resource at the Spellmans' disposal. Security teams across the city were redirected to look for manifestations of shadow magic resembling wolves. Our magical sensors were recalibrated to detect darkness signature similar to Amiriah's.
When I turned back to my sister, she was standing motionless, her eyes closed, face contorted in concentration. One hand pressed against her stomach in an oddly protective gesture that confused me. What was she hiding? What—or who—was so important that the mere threat to it could reduce my formidable twin to this state of desperation?
The drive back to the mansion was tense and silent. Amiriah sat rigid beside me, her bloodstained clothes leaving marks on the leather seats. Every few minutes, she would close her eyes, her lips moving in what looked like a silent plea or prayer. The hand on her stomach remained there, unconsciously protective.
"Miri," I said gently as we neared the mansion. "Whatever you're looking for, whoever is important to you—we will find them. I promise you."
She turned to look at me, her eyes filled with a grief so profound it took my breath away. "If we don't," she whispered, "then nothing else matters. Not the family. Not me. Nothing."
In that moment, I understood that whatever or whoever Amiriah was searching for wasn't just important to her. It was her everything. Her reason for surviving the horrors she'd endured. Her reason for living.
And I silently vowed that we would find this precious thing, no matter what it took. Because I had failed my twin once before, and I would die before failing her again.