Clara
This isn't how I thought my night would turn out at all.
When I'd done my new nightly routine of setting up countermeasures to stop myself from sleepwalking, I assumed I could finally collapse into another restless night.
Nothing could've prepared me for the knocking.
Dark romance novels had hinted a late-night knock could be a killer or a darkly handsome guy with questionable morals and secrets in his eyes. Usually the same. But books don't prepare you for the real thing. When I saw who it was at my window at two a.m., I felt neither fear nor fantasy—just curiosity and suspicion. The handsome killer who politely knocked didn't feel threatening, only out of place.
Just like now, standing in the middle of my bedroom, he looked completely wrong.
His eyes have been scanning the space since the second he stepped in. Are the soft walls and floral air making him uncomfortable? Or is he searching for something?
Wait...could it be that he knows? That the flash drive containing my fathers secrets is hidden in this room? Why is he still hell-bent on that!?
"Don't touch anything." I warn as I step away from the window. "Everything in here is worth more than your existence."
Alister, ever the embodiment of deadpan disrespect, snorts. "Regardless of your exaggeration, there is nothing remotely interesting in this obnoxious room."
Does that include me too?
I slap away the thought from my head and watch him clasp his hands behind his back as if he might accidentally touch something disgusting in here.
How dare he.
Feeling proud of resisting the urge to throw the lamp at his head because it'd be wasteful, I smirk. "Well, you should let me see your bedroom then. I bet it's the most boring and bland place I'll ever see."
The words are meant to be insulting, But as soon as they leave my mouth, my face burns.
Oh god.
The implication hits me a second too late, and my eyes widen. "That is—I didn't mean—"
"Sure."
I'm about to grab the thumbtack from my nightstand and stab my palm to wake up from whatever dream this might be. No, not a dream, a nightmare.
"It's definitely more organized than yours and has priceless decorations. You could learn a thing or two." He shrugs as he pulls out his phone.
I sigh in relief that he didn't misunderstand my suggestive words. But I could feel the annoying challenge in his tone. This place is gorgeous. I have style. He's the dull one here.
"At least it's cute." I grumble, crossing my arms as I stroll towards him.
Alister glances up, eyes lingering on me for a second before he smirks. "I've seen cuter things." He says, focusing back on his phone.
I roll my eyes. "Why are you here?" I ask, curiosity outweighing irritation. "You're not the type to do all this just for a conversation."
"I need to ask you something." He says before holding out the phone for me to see. It's a picture of my mother in one of her book events. Looking professional and stern as ever. Alister zooms the picture to focus on the four-leaf clover bracelet almost hidden under her sleeve. The bright green of the charm looks off with her purple suit.
"Do you know your mother wears that at most of the events? Ones where she is expected to give some sort of speech?"
His words dawn on me and what he's implying. As he swipes the screen to show more images of her in different suits wearing a bracelet that looks almost childish and doesn't match any of her outfits, my body feels like it's going numb.
"You..." I begin, my throat already feeling dry. "You better not be saying what I think you're saying."
"...I am."
"Show me." I demand. "Show me the picture from the book. I know you have it. Obviously you knew I'd be asking for it."
As he holds out his phone again, I snatch it from his hand and stare at it.
It's a page from the book. And surely, there it is. An exact depiction of the bracelet. I compare the images again, and no matter how many times I look, they do seem similar.
But it makes no sense. How can my family be connected to the artifact hunters? There has been no mention of such a thing in this house.
"You said the day you found that gemstone inside you, you asked everyone in the house if they could see it." Alister says as he leans against the wall.
Right! Only artifact users could see it. And no one saw it here.
"I even asked my mom. She couldn't see it either. If she were a user, then she would have seen the gem." I urge, but a sinking realization starts to form in the pit of my stomach.
"Are you sure you asked everyone?" He presses, as if already reading my mind.
I swallow. "M-My grandmother. She was the only one."
♡.........💙.........♡
There's a particular peace that only exists in the small hours—when everyone else is asleep and the lights are out. When the moonlight slips in through the windows like a secret.
But the quiet tonight doesn't feel peaceful—it feels sharp. Like a needle pressed against my skin, waiting for a reason to pierce.
This place was my grandmother's domain long before it was ours. Everything about it screams structure. I always thought that made her strong. Now I wonder if it just made her… skilled. At hiding things.
Alister has to be wrong. That bracelet is just so ordinary; there can be a million ones that look like it. I'll prove it to him.
We enter her room. It's dark—except for a soft, lemon-yellow nightlight casting a warm halo that makes the furniture look gentler than it is.
My grandmother lies on the main bed, perfectly still. In the corner, the caretaker is curled up on the guest bed, blanket tucked under her chin. A book rests face-down on the floor beside her.
I point toward the dresser and glance at Alister, who gives the faintest nod.
Tiptoeing across the room, I reach for the dresser and slide out the jewelery box from the second drawer.
It's cream-colored with pink floral patterns that used to fascinate me as a child. I flip it open and hold my phone just low enough to keep the light dim. My breath catches when I spot it under a chain of pearls.
It's almost identical. The same leaf shape. The same glossy green. The same slightly uneven curve on the stem. I stare at the bracelet for too long, half-expecting it to do something.
Then I realize I don't feel the looming presence behind me anymore.
I turn around and clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound threatening to escape.
Alister is bent low by the caretaker's bed, lightly pressing a white cloth to her nose and mouth.
"What are you doing!?" I whisper-shout, panic flaring in my chest. The caretaker's body relaxes further under his hand.
A sick realization dawns on me.
I should've searched him. I should've stripped him of everything remotely dangerous the moment he crawled through my window.
…That didn't sound the way I wanted it to. Even in my head.
"Please tell me the chloroform is the only thing you're carrying."
His amused smirk tells me it's not.
"Relax. Now she won't be interrupting the conversation." He says casually, before crossing over to the wardrobe near the door, stepping into the shadows beside it. There's a space there where the light doesn't reach, and he vanishes into it like it's made for him. His black clothes blend right in. Although, his outline is visible if one focuses hard enough.
"What conversation?" I whisper.
The only response I get is two glowing silver eyes, watching from the dark.
He's using his powers.
The jewelry box suddenly slips from the dresser and crashes to the ground, letting the contents scatter.
I yelp in surprise, heart slamming in my chest.
It also jolts up grandmother from her sleep, and she sits up straight, staring shockingly at the scene in front of her.
The bracelet is clenched tightly in my fist.
Alister, you bastard! You didn't even warn me!
"What...what are you doing?" She asks, staring down at the box, then at my face. It's when she sees what I'm holding that her face goes pale.
Oh no...please don't prove him right. I hate it when he's right.
"Sorry to wake you up." I say awkwardly as I kneel and start gathering up the scattered jewelery.
She says nothing at first, just watches, the weight of her silence coiling like a noose around my neck.
"Clara." She says calmly. "What are you doing in my room? At this hour. With that bracelet."
I try to swallow the lump in my throat as I place the box back on the dresser. "Grandma... there's something different about this, isn't there?"
She tilts her head slightly. "Well, I saw your mother borrow it a few times. She called it a lucky charm. Is that what you mean?" She asks, but I see the tension creeping into her shoulders. She knows. She knows exactly what I meant.
I glance down at it. It really doesn't look like much, but now it feels like it's burning in my palm.
Then, taking a breath, I let the words spill. "I... meant there's magic in it."
She inhales sharply. Her lips part. "How... how did you know that?"
I lie smoothly. "I felt something. A strange pull in my room. I followed it, and... it led me here."
She stares at me for a long time before slowly extending a hand. "A...pull you say? Could it mean...it's meant to be yours or something?"
I walk toward her and place the bracelet in her palm. "Please," I whisper. "Tell me the truth. What is this?"
Her eyes flicker to the caretaker, making sure she's still asleep before searching mine.
"You always were an annoyingly curious child," she murmurs. "Fine. But what I'm about to say never leaves this room. Not to your parents. Not to anyone. Do you understand?"
I nod, trying to look as sincere as possible.
"Because if anyone knew... they'd come for it. And for you."
She strokes her thumb over the charm, chanting something like an old spell. And suddenly, the leaves of the clover glow with a soft, pulsing green light.
Then the glow fades, and she hands it back to me.
"This bracelet," she says. "is the reason our family became what it is today. The reason I achieved everything. The reason your father was able to build what he has. It's a charm that bestows fortune, opportunity, influence... at a cost."
"What...cost?"
Her gaze drifts past me, toward some memory I can't see. "Happiness. Luck comes in waves, but joy is the shore it washes away."
And just like that, something inside me cracks open.
All the tension in the halls. The smiles that never quite reached anyone's eyes. The suffocating pressure to be perfect. The reason I never felt content.
Was it this?
I want to scream. Instead, I grip the bracelet tighter and push those thoughts down.
"Where did you get it?" I ask, voice tighter than I'd like. "Who gave this to you?"
She hesitates. "It was... a long time ago. I was approached by a group of individuals. Persuasive people. They offered it for sale, claiming it was real magic." She laughs bitterly. "I thought it was a scam. But when they showed me what it could do..." She lifts a shoulder slightly. "This thing cost me quite a fortune. And it turned out to be true. All of it."
My mouth is dry. "Didn't you try to find out who they were? Where they came from?"
"I can't remember much about them."
She winces slightly, like saying that hurt.
"And what little I do remember..." her eyes meet mine. "I can't say."
"What do you mean, can't say? Why not?"
"Because I signed a contract."
I'm about to say that's a stupid reason when she continues. "It wasn't just paper. It was enchanted. Just like the bracelet. If I try to speak about them—tell you what they looked like, what the conversation was, anything they wouldn't approve of—" she touches her chest lightly, as if the memory still echoes there "—it feels like someone's stabbing me. Right through the heart."
A magical contract, that if broken, will lead someone to die? A thousand questions swirl through me, but one pushes forward.
"Is there anyone else who knows about this?" I step closer. "Anyone who might not be bound by the contract?"
Her eyes look distant until something unreadable flickers in her expression. "No… but you were there too."
The words hit like a slap.
"Me?" I whisper, stunned.
She nods once. "You were just four at the time, so you might not remember. But you wandered into the room, and I sat you on my lap as everything happened. You were wide-eyed, completely mesmerized by the magic in the air."
I blink, searching the corners of my mind, but there's nothing. A blank space. I don't remember that day. I don't remember them.
"Does no one else remember people like that coming to the house?"
She shakes her head. "No. Strangely enough, it was like they were never here after they left. Even I tried to recall their names or faces once and… it's like trying to grip fog."
Strange. I can tell it must have been the work of some other artifact. But...I thought these hunters were collecting these things. Why are they selling them? For money? Since that's the only thing they demanded in return. Unless there's more, but grandmother can't go into detail because of the contract.
"Can you understand what this is?" I show her a picture of a piece of paper where I had scribbled some of the text from the book. To see if she's able to read it.
But as she squints her eyes at it and her face twists with confusion, I get my answer. "What is this?"
I smile awkwardly. "A...friend of mine called it a spell. And since I thought you had this magical item, you could understand what it says."
It seems they verbally taught her the words. I'm beginning to wonder if even those hunters could read this.
"Do you like it?" Her question comes suddenly, jarring my train of thought.
My gaze drops again to the bracelet.
I think back to a patch of clover in the gardens. I remember crouching there for hours, dirt under my nails, searching with the kind of childish desperation only someone small and helpless can feel. I wasn't superstitious. But I wanted to be. I wanted to believe. I thought that if I could just find that one four-leaf clover, maybe I'd finally have some luck. Maybe I'd finally feel happy.
But I never found one.
And now it's here. Something that traded my family's love and joy for its influence.
"Is...the price of happiness worth it?" I ask quietly.
"That is not the goal, Clara. It never was. It's a fleeting emotion—like a breeze. You don't build a future chasing air." Her words slam into me, and yet she continues. "Success. Getting ahead of others—that's what matters. That's what lasts. No one remembers happy people. They remember powerful or fearsome ones. And this thing helped make us exactly that."
I feel something cold settle into my bones. Maybe it's this exact logic that made this house feel like a gilded cage all these years.
I don't feel lucky holding this. I feel...trapped.
"But...what's the point if everything just feels empty? Is...this really the life you wanted for us?" I find myself saying.
In a flash, her hand snaps out and grips my hair, yanking me forward towards her. Pain blooms across my scalp, and I cry out, startled.
"You ungrateful little girl! Do you even hear yourself? You think this world was built on happiness?" She spits the word like it's poison. "That your father climbed to where he is by chasing feelings?"
Does she know about the things father have done? Did she let him do all of it knowing he wouldn't be caught because she has this artifact?
"The only thing that matters is what you achieve. And if you have a tool—a power—then you use it." She releases me and I stumble backward. "Get it together."
Suddenly the nightlight goes out, plunging the room into darkness.
...what is he up to now?
A second later, something brushes against my palm. A small folded paper slipped into my hand like a whisper passed through shadows.
"What happened?" Grandmother asks.
Pushing down the sigh building in my throat, I walk over to the socket. Sure enough, the switch has been turned off. I flick it back on.
"Ah!" she yelps sharply behind me.
A thin strand of her hair is tangled tightly around the edge of the metal bedpost, pulled taut as she shifts.
Alister, what the hell?
I unfold the paper and read the note quickly. It's filled with instructions on what to do to get him out of here.
I tuck it into the waistband of my shorts, then walk toward her and carefully untangle the silvery strand.
"Grandma... could I have the bracelet?"
She squints at me, the wrinkles around her mouth tightening. "You may borrow it," she says flatly. "But it will only be yours when I die."
I wish I had the power to send mental signals. To reach into Alister's brain and scream, Don't even think about it.
Instead, I step forward, wrapping my arms around her. I bury her head against my shoulder in what probably looks like an affectionate hug. In truth, I'm shielding her from the door.
"Thank you for your wisdom. As always." I whisper, forcing the word past my lips.
The nightlight goes out again. But I don't break the hug, nor do I move.
But I feel it. Alister walking out of the room.
"What is wrong with that nightlight?" She grunts as I pull away.
"Perhaps you need a new one. I'll be going now." I say as I back away from her.
I step out of the room, clutching the thing so tightly the little metal digs into my palm.
Alister is there. Leaning against the wall like he's been part of the wallpaper this whole time.
But I walk past him before he says anything and hear him fall into step behind me. As soon as we enter my room, he locks the door.
"Here's what you're going to do," he says. "Have a replica made of that thing while it's with you, and as soon as it's made, you will break that artifact." His gaze cuts to the bracelet. "—and give her back the fake after your mom uses it so the blame falls on her."
I should say yes. I should nod and agree. But My lips won't move.
All my life, I've tried.
I've tried to be what they needed. What they expected. What they could love.
I listened. I studied. I got the grades, kept the rules, and shut up when they told me to.
I tried to be the daughter they lost. I tried to be like my grandmother too.
But now I'm standing here, holding the thing that made all their victories possible. A piece of metal that cheats reality.
Not to say I've never cheated, but it never ruined or controlled anyone's life.
Why I've never felt loved here? Why I've never felt happy? Why I always feel like a shadow in a house of lights?
Was it always because of this?
"No."
Alister's gaze darkens. "What?"
"No," I repeat, firmly. "I'm not breaking it."
His jaw tightens. He steps forward, but I hold my ground.
Regardless of my feelings, this is not just some cursed trinket. It's the root of everything.
The reason we rose when others fell. The reason my father's corruption stayed hidden while others got exposed.
All the dinners, the designer clothes, the sparkling reputation. The lies I had to protect.
It was all this.
To destroy it would be to tear the foundation out from under everything I've ever known. Even if I hate it… I've still lived inside it. We all have.
If I break this...I break everything.
"I have to do what's best for the family." I answer.
"Austin." He sneers. It's not a name anymore—just an insult. I haven't heard him call me that in awhile. I can practically feel the hatred through his gaze.
I lift up my chin, standing as tall as I can. "This belongs to me, and I get to decide what should be done with it. Whether I want to keep it or break it, that decision is in my hands. You don't have a say in this."
I can see the vein twitching on his forehead.
Alister's a control freak. And right now? I just reminded him that in this moment, he's not in control.
He steps closer. I resist stepping back and instead tuck the bracelet behind me.
"Whether you're thinking of taking it by force or using your power to do it, I suggest you remember where you're standing. This is my house. My room. All it'll take is one scream, and everyone will be awake. I'm sure you can tell who would be at a greater disadvantage." I say to him. "Don't you think it's time you stopped interfering in my life?"
Gosh, it feels so good to put him in his place. To have this much power over him. I might get addicted to this feeling.
Alister exhales sharply, a restrained breath meant to smother his fury. Then he clasps his hands behind his back in a mocking show of surrender.
"You know what the cost is." He says. "Are you sure about this decision?"
I look him in the eye. "Yes."
His stare pierces through the bravado.
"Is this what you want?"
I nod stiffly.
"I didn't ask what your family would want or what they would expect," he says. "I don't care what they'd think if you broke it. I don't care what happens to their money or their name. And I didn't ask what that old hag wants."
My eyes narrow. "Don't be rude. Have a little decency to respect your elders."
He scoffs. "Respect is earned. And that woman?" He nods towards the door. "She's earned nothing but a long, quiet retirement far away from human contact."
He steps closer until he's in front of me.
"I'm not asking them, Clara."
His sharp eyes burn into mine.
"I'm asking you."
The question lodges somewhere behind my ribs, in a place I've spent years locking up. Not because I don't know the answer. But because I do.
I want—what I really want—is to be free.
To leave this house and never look back.
To stop chasing the approval of people who only see ghosts when they look at me.
I want you to look at me without hatred, and disgust that you reserve for my family.
And, embarrassingly, ...I want to cry. And I want you to comfort and hold me like I held you in the field. But when I recall Zach ending the conversation and walking away at the theme park, I worry you might leave too. And for some reason, it would hurt more because I don't want to be alone right now.
But what I say is. "I want… to protect what my family's built."