THE OLD WOMAN was staring at us.
"My name is Lucinda Vaughn, but you can call me Lucy."
The moment the word 'Vaughn' slipped from Lucy's lips, Mamori and I exchanged glances. The name clung to the air between us like an echo. It was Augustus' surname. No, it was not just Augustus' but also Leo's surname.
Bryce was laid weakly on the couch, his breaths shallow and ragged. Each exhalation sounded like a sigh of agony. Lucy then shuffled away into the small, cluttered kitchen after excusing herself, telling the both of us to feel at ease in her living room as her footsteps brushed a soft rhythm against the worn wooden floor. Not long after, she returned while holding two glasses of water, their contents shimmering under the faint glow of the single, bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The droplets slid down the glass surface, racing each other to the wooden table where she placed them. The coolness of the water was a welcome relief against the grit and grime of the events, and I wrapped my hands around the glass, letting the chill seep into my bones.
"Thank you," Mamori said to Lucy, her voice a tired whisper. She took a sip, and I watched her as her vibrant eyes became dull with fatigue. Lucy then perched herself on the edge of an overstuffed armchair, her knitted shawl pooling around her like a cloud of pastel yarn. She asked us what had happened, her voice knit with concern. Mamori then responded. Her voice was steady as she recounted our encounter with the man in black from Miss Alice's home—a phantom whose identity remained as elusive as his motives.
"We had been ambushed earlier, caught off guard. Prim then ran away, so we followed her. While we were looking for her, Bryce and I were attacked, but he stepped in as he shielded me from the brunt of the attack. As we escape, he was badly injured, but something, or perhaps someone, seemed to be teetering on Bryce, his strength ebbing away with each passing second. It was as if he was using his power to do something, and then in a snap, he became weak," Mamori said. I couldn't help but look at Bryce's nose. That would explain why his nose was bleeding.
After listening, Lucy's face was a canvas of empathy. Her fingers traced the rim of her own glass; her touch was light but decisive. A curious coincidence? Perhaps. But at that moment, it felt like a lifeline.
As I watched Bryce's unconscious form, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, I knew we were in a race against time. The words hung heavy in the air as they spilled from Mamori's lips. I could see Mamori's slender fingers twitch, her nails nibbling into the soft flesh, a nervous habit that betrayed her usual calm demeanor. The room was dim, save for the golden glow cascading from the fireplace, casting long, eerie shadows that danced upon the old wooden floor.
Lucy's face, on the other hand, was drained to a ghostly pallor. The silence was then broken by her voice, a mere whisper that echoed around the room like a frightened bird. "So they're still there," she breathed. The words were barely audible, yet they cut through the tension in the room like a knife through butter.
Mamori looked towards Lucy, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Who?" she asked. Lucy's gaze remained fixed on some distant point, her mind seemingly far from the confines of her small, humble home. She shook her head, her silver hair swaying with the movement, the unanswered question hanging in the air like a specter.
The room was thick with tension, with the only sound being the low crack of the firewood in the corner. "Are you gifted beings?" Lucy inquired.
I felt Mamori's gaze turn to me, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. Time seemed to slow around us, the world outside our little sanctuary fading into insignificance. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the question hanging in the air like the strike of a gong. Mamori turned back to Lucy, her face a mask of uncertainty. She hesitated for a moment before nodding, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "How did you know?"
Her words echoed around the room, each syllable hanging heavy in the air. The room was silent, and the three of us were frozen in a tableau of anxiousness. However, Lucy didn't respond to Mamori's questioning gaze. Instead, she opened her palm over the weakened Bryce's bruises, a landscape of violence painted across his body. A faint glow emanated from her hand, pulsing softly like the heartbeat of a star. It had a gentle radiance that was calming and warm. It danced across the room, casting long shadows that flickered and wavered, painting the cabin walls with a light that seemed otherworldly and ethereal.
Mamori and I exchanged a glance. We'd grown accustomed to the unexpected—aa necessary adaptation in our world—but this... This was something else. It was obvious: Lucy was also gifted.
After a few seconds, the light disappeared, as if it had been sucked back into Lucy's palm, who now seemed even more enigmatic than before. Her eyes remained fixed on Bryce, with a softness in them that I hadn't noticed before. "You're safe here," she reassured us, her voice echoing around the cabin like a protective hymn.
Then, as if the extraordinary display of healing powers had been a mundane event, she excused herself. "It's not safe to wander the woods at night as well, and your friend needs to recover before you proceed with your journey," she said, her gaze flicking towards the curtained window and the darkness beyond. It was a darkness that was almost palpable, a thick blanket of shadows and unknown dangers lurking beneath the canopy of the forest.
"I'll fix your bed for now. Stay here inside my cabin until your friend can recover. Don't worry, you're all safe inside," Lucy added.
We nodded, our gratitude hanging in the air like an unspoken promise. "T-Thank you," I managed, my voice hoarse. I felt like a tiny vessel being tossed in a vast sea of events far greater than I could comprehend. Yet, in the midst of it all, there was a strange kind of comfort in knowing that we weren't alone.
As Lucy disappeared into an adjoining room, Mamori and I were left alone with our thoughts and the quiet hum of the cabin. The wooden floor creaked under the weight of the events, and the walls bore silent witness to what just happened a couple of seconds ago. The smell of pine and wood smoke was comforting, a stark contrast to the gloomy situation we'd left behind. The cabin was simple, even basic, but it was giving us a sense of relief.
As Mamori and I stood anchored in the living room, the whisper of fabric against the old hardwood floors marked Lucy's departure. The fluttering hem of her dress danced a staccato rhythm, mirroring the erratic stare my eyes were darting.
"Mamori," I began, my voice a raspy whisper in the echoing chamber of the room, "have you noticed Lucy's name?"
Mamori turned towards me, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What's wrong with her name?" she asked, her voice carrying the distant strains of perplexity.
"No, not her first name," I replied, my eyes still trailing Lucy's path, now hidden behind the curve of the hallway. "Her surname. It's the same as Augustus' and Leo's."
A moment of silence stretched between us, filled only by the distant rustle of Lucy adjusting the bedding. Mamori's expressive eyes darkened with thought, and her lips pursed as she delved into the labyrinth of her memory.
"The officer in Perthlochry," I prodded gently, "remember? Leo? Primmy?"
A flicker of confusion crossed Mamori's face, her eyes darting like a pair of startled fish. "No, Primrose, I don't," she murmured, a faint, vulnerable tremble in her voice that tugged at my heart. Her gaze met mine, a sea of confusion under the dim light. "What are you talking about?"
"The one who helped you in his office?" I tried again, the concern in my voice knitting itself into my words. "Remember?"
Mamori only shook her head, her hair swirling around her like a dark halo. "I don't remember, Primrose. What are you trying to imply?"
My heart sank, tugged down by the weight of my growing suspicions. "Are you hiding something?" I asked, my words hanging in the air between us like fragile glass ready to shatter.
Mamori's gaze hardened, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes. "You're overthinking," she said, the clipped tone of her voice echoing off the room's bare walls. "It's just a coincidence."
She turned away, her back a firm wall, shutting me out. "Besides," she added over her shoulder, her voice softer now, "we have to focus on Bryce. He's the one who's severely injured."
With that, she left me standing alone in the living room, the echo of her words the only company for my confounding thoughts. I watched her retreating figure, a silhouette swallowed by the dim light of the hallway, my heart heavy with unvoiced questions and unease.
The room suddenly felt colder and emptier. The silence was deafening, filling my ears with the throb of my own confusion. I was alone in the living room, a solitary figure in a tapestry of doubt and suspicion. And as the darkness consumed the cabin, leaving me in the encroaching darkness, I couldn't shake off the feeling that we were all entangled in a web of secrets, each thread leading us further into an unknown maze.
***
It's a strange sensation, lying here in the silent embrace of the night. The room, just a few hours ago brimming with energy, now lay tranquil and still. Lucy had given us the green light to make it our room for the night. But even in the quiet of the room, my mind was lost in a tumultuous sea of thoughts, tossing and turning in waves of uncertainty.
Next to me, Mamori was sleeping. Her chest rising and falling in rhythmic harmony with the hushed whispers of the night, and her face, soft and innocent in slumber, was a stark contrast to the storm brewing within me. Something was off about her; her eyes had been telling stories her lips hadn't dared to. I could feel it, like a bitter taste clinging stubbornly to the back of my tongue. I mean, what was she hiding?
Across the room, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, slept Ophelia. She was curled up like a child, a picture of peace. The moonbeams danced upon her face, casting shadows that flickered and morphed with the swaying of the curtains. Her gentle snores were a soothing lullaby that merged with the nocturnal symphony of the crickets outside.
I eased out of bed, careful not to wake Mamori. The wooden floor was cool against my bare feet, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the bed. I padded across the room, an echo of unease gnawing at my gut. Emerging from the room, I was enveloped by the confines of Lucy's living room, its simplicity amplified by the dim lighting. I stopped in my tracks, my eyes drawn to Bryce, who was sprawled on the couch. He lay there, unconscious, carved in the dim, flickering light of the dying embers in the fireplace.
His chest moved in a slow, steady rhythm, the only sign of life in his otherwise motionless form. His face is calm now, but I know he's in pain. His brown hair was tousled, a few strands falling across his forehead. Yet he's still calm, despite his state right now. I mean, I hope he's winning his battle.
A rush of emotions swept over me as I looked at him. Pity, anger, and maybe even a hint of fear. But above all, curiosity. The questions kept swirling in my mind, and the answers were as elusive as the shadows that danced around us.
Miss Alice, Mamori, and Augustus surely are hiding something from me. Leo? The man in black? The man in my dreams? How are they interconnected with each other?
The silence around me wrapped like a blanket. I felt like a solitary ship in a vast, uncharted ocean, surrounded by mysteries I had yet to see. As the moonlight spilled into the room, I knew this was just the beginning. The room was dim and still, and the only sound was the steady rhythm of Bryce's breath, unconscious and oblivious to my thoughts. I glanced at him, sprawled out on the old, moth-eaten couch, before my gaze shifted back to what had captured my attention earlier—an old photograph, slightly worn around the edges but still vibrant for some reason.
The image was simple: a much younger Lucy, her hair a vibrant shade of auburn, standing with an arm around each of the two twin boys. They were identical; their sweet smiles were a mirror reflection of each other. Their eyes sparkled with mischief and innocence, the essence of youth encapsulated in a single, frozen moment.
There was no doubt in my mind that the twins were Augustus and Leo. The resemblance was uncanny; their faces were a perfect blend of the youthful Lucy in the photograph and the men I knew them to be today. But the connections—the inexplicably tangled web of relationships—were a mystery I was yet to unravel.
Lucy, living alone in a cabin buried deep in the woods, away from the prying eyes of society; Leo, working as a police officer in Perthlochry; and Augustus... How are they connected with the man who appeared in my dream? And why does it feel like they are oblivious to each other's existence? Each lived such disparate lives, yet they were bound together by the thread of their shared past.
The most baffling part was Leo's apparent ignorance of Augustus's existence and vice versa. The twins, once so close in the photo, now live their lives as parallel as two lines. I tried to piece together the puzzle, my mind whirling with questions, but I just couldn't. What could have driven such a wedge between them? How did they end up on such contrasting paths?
The room seemed to close in as I pondered, the wooden walls of the cabin groaning with the weight of my thoughts. I then glanced at the photograph again, tracing the outlines of the faces with my fingers, hoping to coax out the secrets it held.
The silence was palpable, broken only by Bryce's steady breathing. I looked at him again, his face a calm canvas against the storm of my thoughts. A pang of guilt washed over me. I sighed, my thoughts colliding with each other like a whirlwind of confusion. But one thing was clear: I had to find the missing links to unravel the mystery of Lucy, Leo, and Augustus, and more importantly, Miss Alice and the man in my dreams.
As the candle flickered and died, I felt surprised. Suddenly, the shrill surprise of an old woman's voice sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I had been so engrossed in my thoughts that the sudden intrusion jerked me back to reality. I blinked and turned around slowly. It was Lucy standing there, her pale face eerily illuminated by the dim lighting. The last vestiges of the golden light seemed to cling to her hair, outlining each strand in a halo of warmth. Her eyes, however, were cold, a calm sea hiding a maelstrom beneath.
"So, you've seen the photo of me and my twins," she said, her voice a soft murmur on the edge of the room, a ghost of a whisper that seemed to echo off the high ceilings.
I stood frozen, unable to respond. The picture I held was old, worn by time and touch. It depicted Lucy in happier times, her arms around the two boys, and their faces reflecting reflections of hers. In my head, I wanted to ask her a bunch of questions. I mean, sure, but why are you unaware of Leo and Augustus? Are they your twins? What do you know about the home that appeared in my dreams? Who are you, really?
Slowly, almost reverently, Lucy moved towards me. Her steps were soft, barely making a sound on the polished wooden floor. I watched as she extended a hand and gently touched the picture, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of her sons. The love in her touch was palpable, a clear contrast to the guarded emotion in her eyes.
"Where are your sons now?" I asked, my voice breaking the silence that had settled around us.
Lucy remained silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on the photo. "One of them is out on his job," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion.
"And the other?" The question hung in the air, the weight of it pressing against us both.
Lucy's fingers remained on the photo. A long silence filled the room before she finally whispered, "I don't know."
The finality in her voice was like a punch. I watched as she gently picked up the photo and placed it on the mahogany table nearby. The crisp click of the frame against the wood seemed to resonate in the silence.
Afterwards, she walked towards me. With each step she took, her long shadow seemed to merge with the growing darkness in the room. As she stood beside me, I could see the weariness etched on her face.
I remained still next to Lucy, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. There was sympathy, of course, but there was also a sense of curiosity and anxiety about what was about to come. And then, as if reading my mind while the evening settled into a deep, velvety blue, Lucy sat, ushering me to come closer. I didn't even have to ask when Lucy began her tale. As a result, I listened attentively, and my senses were sharpened by the chilling undercurrent in her voice. I could smell the bitter aroma of the firewood mingling with the faint scent of damp earth outside wafting in through the partially open window. A single lamp bathed the room in a soft, warm glow that danced upon the worn-out pages of the books strewn haphazardly on the mahogany table between us.
Lucy's eyes were cloaked in a shadow of regret as she started to share her story. And suddenly, she looked at me in the eyes, smiling as she began. "Back when I was pregnant with my boys, I dreamt of them leading a normal, human life. Cornelius and Augustus. Those were my kids," she said.
"I've always wanted them to live as normal kids. You see," she paused, her gaze lost in the photograph. "I am gifted, or cursed, depending on how you see it, and I was pretty aware of it even in my youth. I can heal people with my powers, something no ordinary human possesses."
As she continued, the room seemed to shrink, the corners drawing closer, as if they too were leaning in to hear her story. "When my twins turned eight, their powers unraveled." A bitter laugh escaped her lips, a sound so unlike the Lucy I knew. "One could control the essence of any living thing, while the other twin could manipulate lights. I tried so hard to keep them normal, to hide them from this cruel world. But I failed. Cornelius suddenly could manipulate lights, and Augustus could control a being's energy."
Cornelius?
I watched as a single tear escaped Lucy's eyes and traced a shiny path down her cheek. I felt her pain and her guilt echoing within me. I reached out, my hand hovering in the air, unsure whether to offer comfort or retreat into my own space.
"But it wasn't long after," Lucy's voice dropped to a whisper, "when men in black suits started appearing." She shuddered, her eyes distant and fearful. "They were mysterious. Weird. No eyebrows, devoid of expressions, as if all humanity had been stripped away from them. And I was scared, since they've been stalking me and my sons for days."
Lucy's story hung in the air, a haunting tale spun from the threads of her past. The reality of her burden was a revelation that left me with unease. The night outside seemed quieter now, as if the world were holding its breath, waiting for the next chapter in Lucy's life to unfold.
As the clock chimed midnight, I knew that our lives were irrevocably intertwined. But despite the fear gnawing at the edges of my thoughts, I continued to listen. Lucy's eyes were now clouded with shadows of a past she'd fought to forget, and I looked down.
"It was just an ordinary day, my kids were playing inside the living room when my husband decided to go outside, to go to our driveway. He was humming that old tune he loved, the one he'd sing to the twins when they couldn't sleep. While he was occupied, I heard loud footsteps approaching our porcb. Out of the blues, men in sleek black suits, sunglasses, suitcases, their faces void of emotion, came. They were like shadows. They came onto our home uninvited, which caused my husband to yell at them. I was dismissive at first, thinking nothing of it. But then, it happened. I heard the shot from the driveway. It echoed. At first, I was stunned. But as I peered outside, I saw those men pulling my dead husband's body away from our driveway."
I could almost taste the sharp sting of gunpowder in the air.
"In my panic, I grabbed the twins. They were barely aware of what was happening at that time. They didn't understand why their mother was crying or why she was running. I bolted through the backdoor, the cool autumn air whipping across my face as I fled into the woods behind our home."
Lucy's hands shook as she clutched her cup. "I ran with my twins for hours and they started to complain. My body started giving up, and fortunately I met the guy named Ryan, a stranger with long hair wearing a black blazer, standing in the field. His eyes softened when he saw us. He didn't say much. But when he asked what happened, why we seemed to be in a rush, he just led us away the moment I mentioned three words—men in black. And for some reason, he knew that we were being chased by them, and he saved us away from their grasp."
Lucy sighed. "We ended up in a massive Victorian house, the kind you see in storybooks. It was filled with children and teens, all dressed in white. Ryan revealed to me that he built the house as a safe place for gifted beings as men in black were hunting us to the brink of extinction. Like angels, the gifted, their innocence distinct against the darkness of their pasts. It was then I realized that we weren't alone. There were others, others like me and my sons."
Could she be talking about Miss Alice's foster home? I wondered.
"However," Lucy said, causing my thoughts to snap away. "It wasn't long before the men in black found us. They attacked, bombing the very place we lived in. The massive Victorian house stood no chance as it slowly crumbled, the walls falling in a cloud of dust and debris. In the chaos, I lost one of my twins. I could only save one, Primrose, only one. And I lost Augustus in the process. The last time I saw him was he was with the other gifted being as the debris fell. And to this day, I have no idea whether he's alive or not."
The loss echoed in her voice, a hollow note that rang in the silence of my living room. "After what happened, I decided to change Cornelius' name into Leonidas so we could live a different life years after the incident. He finished his studies and went on to become a public enforcer now, away from the society that failed him. I mean, Augustus might be dead, but I'm forever grateful for Ryan that he saved us. I also couldn't help but wonder if the children from that foster home got out alive as well," Lucy said.
And somehow, things started making sense to me. Leo and Augustus were the kids in the photographs that I took in the forbidden room in Miss Alice's home. But why did Miss Alice hide this information from anyone? Does Mamori know about all this? Should I tell Lucy that Augustus is still alive?