It was nearly midnight.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
The kind of silence that didn't feel peaceful — it felt thick. Like the world was holding its breath.
Even Zac, the youngest of the three siblings, had finally fallen asleep, his blanket half off and the TV in the living room long turned off. Mira, seventeen and wide awake, lay sprawled on her bed, earphones in, one leg propped on the wall as she mindlessly scrolled through dance reels. She wasn't really watching, not anymore — just passing time until sleep won the war she didn't want to fight yet.
The day had passed like most others. School, gossip, half-burnt lunch at the canteen. Zac crying over a broken toy. Addie refusing to help with chores as usual. Laughter echoing off hallway walls. Everything felt normal. Comfortably boring.
But tonight?
Something about the air felt… wrong.
Heavy.
Still.
As if something unseen had entered the house, wearing the silence like a mask.
Then it came.
A sudden, blinding flash of white light from across the hallway.
Mira jerked upright, her phone slipping from her hand. The light didn't last more than a second, but it had come from one place only.
Addie's room.
Mira yanked her earphones out, her heart already racing. "What the—?"
She jumped off the bed and rushed to her sister's door.
"Addie?" she called, knocking.
No answer.
Her hand hesitated on the knob. She knocked harder. "Addie! Are you okay?"
Still silence.
The door wasn't locked.
Something in her chest tightened. Mira pushed the door open.
What she saw made her freeze.
Addie was on the floor.
Her body hunched, her arms trembling as they dug into the carpet, her head lowered like she was barely holding herself together. Sweat drenched her hair, her face pale and twisted in agony. But it wasn't just pain. No — this wasn't like cramps or fever.
This looked like something was breaking her from the inside.
The air around her shimmered.
Literally shimmered — like heat waves, only glowing faintly. Tiny particles of light floated up from her skin, like she was… leaking magic. Mira blinked hard, thinking maybe she was hallucinating, but the glow didn't vanish.
The pendant around Addie's neck — a silver one with a pale blue gem she'd worn for years — was burning bright white. Like a tiny star had been set alight against her chest.
And from her back…
Wings.
Or the memory of wings.
Not solid or feathered. But… present. Like invisible limbs pushing their way through the skin — ethereal outlines glowing faintly behind her shoulder blades.
Mira's breath hitched. "Addie?!"
She rushed forward and dropped to her knees. "Hey—hey, what's happening?!"
She reached for her sister's shoulders, but the moment her hands touched Addie, the other girl gasped. Her eyes flew open.
They weren't brown anymore.
They were glowing golden.
"Don't…" Addie whispered hoarsely, barely able to speak. "Don't touch me…"
Her voice was warped, like two people speaking at once — one was Addie's, the other was something older, distant, unearthly.
Mira's hands recoiled instantly. Panic surged up her throat. "MOM!" she screamed. "COME HERE! SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH HER!"
Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Their mother burst into the room, her robe still half-tied, her face pale with terror.
She took one look at the scene and froze.
"Call someone! A doctor!" she yelled, but even as she said it, her eyes locked on the glowing room, the swirling light around Addie, and her voice faltered.
"No," Mira said suddenly. She didn't know why she said it. But her voice came out steady. "This… this isn't normal. Look at her body — look at the light!"
Even the walls shimmered faintly, bending and vibrating like the air was alive.
Their mother didn't argue. She simply stepped closer, torn between fear and instinct. "Addie… baby, what's happening to you?"
But Addie didn't hear her.
She wasn't in that room anymore.
Inside her mind, Addie was burning.
She stood in a palace she'd never seen before.
Marble beneath her feet. A golden crown in her hands. Blood splattered across polished floors. Someone screaming her name. A man with black eyes yelling — not words, but commands, cruel and ancient. A little girl — maybe six years old — reaching out, sobbing, clutching Addie's wrist.
Her wrist was bleeding.
A sword lay nearby.
She looked down. Her dress was torn, ripped at the shoulder. There were feathers scattered around — white, singed, falling like ash.
A woman stood above her. Beautiful. Familiar. With the same eyes as Addie's.
Her sister.
And in her hand — a dagger, gleaming with magic.
She stabbed forward.
Addie screamed.
---
Back in the room, her body convulsed.
The light grew brighter. Mira grabbed the edge of the bed to keep her balance as the room pulsed with a force she couldn't explain.
Addie's voice, faint and broken, drifted out.
"I'm not just Addie..."
Mira leaned forward. "What?"
"I'm someone else..."
The light around her burst — pure white — like a shockwave that forced both Mira and her mom back a step.
And then, just like that…
It vanished.
The room darkened.
The shimmer disappeared.
The air turned still again, like nothing had happened.
Addie collapsed forward, unconscious.
The pendant on her chest dimmed to its usual soft silver-blue, as if it had never flared at all.
Mira stayed frozen for several long seconds, her own breathing ragged, heart pounding like thunder in her ears.
She reached forward slowly, gently touching Addie's wrist. It was warm.
Alive.
But limp.
She turned to her mom. "She… she was glowing."
Their mother knelt down shakily, brushing hair away from Addie's face. "This… this isn't normal. We need to get help."
But Mira shook her head, her voice quiet.
"No doctor will understand this."
Her mom looked at her. "Then what do we do?"
Mira didn't know. All she knew was the fear in her chest wasn't just fear anymore. It was something else now.
Curiosity.
Dread.
Recognition.
She looked at her sister — her breathing had returned to normal, her face peaceful again — and Mira suddenly realized something terrifying.
Whoever this girl was lying in front of her… it wasn't just her sister.
Not only her