Clara
My body felt like nothing more than a puppet as Steph dragged me forward. Everything felt like a bad dream.
But...the ache in my chest was real. The weight of betrayal pressing against my ribs was real. The bitter taste of failure, of misplaced trust, the burning at the back of my throat. All that was real.
Everything is falling apart like a house of cards I spent hours building up.
We believed in the ritual. I believed in it. Despite the warnings in the pit of my stomach, I had chosen hope. I had clung to it, naively, as if hope alone could change the nature of the world. Like drowning souls reaching for driftwood.
But hope is a cruel thing. A deceptive thing. It blinds. It makes fools out of those desperate enough to reach for it. What an idiot I had been to believe that it could ever be stronger than inevitability.
Rubecca and Reeze had played their part well, feigning allegiance while guiding us toward our downfall. And Zach watched and let it happen. The betrayal cuts so deep I can barely breathe past it.
And Alister—
My throat tightened. My eyes stung as if my own body refused to let me think it.
The boy I loved wasn't here anymore. I wanted to scream, to cry, to stop running, to call out to him again and see if he really is still there. He said he can hear the voices and tries to take control. Maybe if I can keep calling his name, he'd overtake her. But I shot him in the leg, and Leora didn't give up the seat, as if it's permanently hers now.
We reached the staircase, and my eyes found Simon standing on the upper floor. He was waving us over, his urgency evident in the frantic motion of his arm.
Good. We can't go outside. We can't let her get out of here. Not when Micah is still in the car. I know I was mad at what Steph did to him, but right now I'm so thankful for it.
"Clara, move!" Her voice cuts through the static in my head. I can't afford to break down now. There would be time for grief later. If we survived, there would be time for everything later.
Right now, all I could do was run. And think.
That's why I shot her. To buy us time to come up with something.
How to make sure he wins this gamble...
We make it into the room, Simon slamming the door shut behind us. The room is old. Abandoned furniture covered in dusty sheets.
Simon spins around, bloodshot eyes wild. "What do we do?!"
Steph doesn't answer. Instead, she strides over to the bag, yanking it open and pulling out a gun.
"Did...Alister tell you to shoot that gem?" I ask. If Alister deliberately placed Simon at the door so he could run to the car, get the guns, and shoot the artifact, that means he expected all this to happen. No matter how prepared he is for everything, I refuse to believe he knew Simon would do that.
"No, I just...I just did it. It's a magic stone, right? She can't kill herself and switch bodies now." He says awkwardly. Since the gem is no longer embedded in me, it's safe to assume we're not being eavesdropped.
"I think he wanted you to run to the car and drive away with Micah. So you two can get as far away from what's about to happen." Steph says, checking the gun's mag.
That might make sense, yet I shake my head. "But then he'd be driving away with our artillery. Alister didn't want that to happen."
Simon's brow furrows. "Did he tell you?"
I hesitate. "In a way, yes." My mind flickers back to my book. His secret words disguised as constructive criticism to keep away from prying eyes, knowing that Leora was always watching. It was his only way to explain everything he couldn't tell me without tipping her off.
Stephanie exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. "Alright, we need a plan. Quick. How to bring Alister back. Before her lapdog shows up."
I try to swallow it down, but it's hard to shake the feeling that time is slipping through our fingers.
"There's already a plan," I finally say.
They both freeze. Surprise, painted clearly on their faces. "What?" Simon asks. "What do you mean?"
I grip the gun tighter. "Alister wrote down a confusing secret plan in my book... in case things went wrong."
Steph's face shifts in an instant, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes before she grabs my shoulders. "That's great news! What is it?"
The words come out slower than I expect, like they're stuck in my throat, and I feel my vision get blurry. "It's...risky."
The light in her expression fades just as quickly, replaced with the quiet understanding of someone who knows exactly what kind of gamble this is. She pulls me into a sudden, tight hug. I don't fight it. I let myself crumble in her arms, letting my own tears fall freely.
"You look very ugly when you cry."
"Shut up." I sniff. "I'm never ugly."
Steph laughs and when we pull apart, she wipes away the stray tears on my face with her thumb. "Alister didn't seem like the self-sacrificing type."
I shake my head. "He isn't. But his plan… It's a gamble on his life. One that he wants us to succeed at, no matter the cost. If we don't..."
I don't want to kill him. He knew that. He knew I wouldn't ever make that choice...unless there was no other way.
If she wins, she'll kill me. And not just me. Our friends. Little Micah. Our families. The innocent lives out there that she'll destroy without a second thought. He knew that, too. He understood the kind of decision I would have to make. That if it came down to it, I would set aside my feelings and choose the greater good.
He knew I'd choose the latter. That I'd do what was necessary.
But Alister doesn't want to die either. Like Steph said, he's not some martyr or saint who thinks his life should end for the sake of a greater cause. He doesn't believe in blind hope the way I do. He looks for alternatives. He always looks for another way, another route.
And the alternative he came up with, crazy and seemingly far-fetched as it may seem, depends on his ability to handle pain. Either he'll die in the fight. Or the intense pain will kill him. My goal is to bring him to that point. My heart aches just thinking about it.
But one thing is clear.
To do that, to make this all work, we'll have to overpower Leora.
...the powerful witch...
"You need to leave. Take Simon and—"
"Not happening." Steph shuts me down immediately. "I never told you this, but he once saved my life, rather rudely, if I might add. He's like a brother to me when my own ones died or left me." she chuckles, and stares at the ground. "And now is my chance to make it even so I can rub it in his face about how pathetic he was."
"Umm...I'm staying too if—" Simon begins, but I cut him off.
"You're taking Micah and driving out of here the first chance you get, understand? Just make sure to empty the contents of the trunk when you leave." I assert. I know he's not a fighter, and he'll only become a liability.
He shamelessly lets out a sigh of relief. "Alright!"
Then, like a bolt of lightning splitting through fog, it hits me. A crucial variable. Something Alister already mentioned in the book.
I close my eyes and reach inward, searching for something. There's nothing to grasp. No gem embedded in my skin anymore. No clear tether to the power I once wielded.
Then, a flicker.
A sensation, faint but familiar, crawling under my skin like static before a storm.
A sharp gasp breaks my concentration.
"Clara." Steph's voice is laced with shock.
I guess it worked. I'm invisible.
My nails glow. All eight of them. And better yet, I can't feel the drawbacks.
Simon steps forward. "How? The gem was removed."
My mind latches onto Alister's words. How he got this information out of her is beyond me.
Leora's magic didn't disappear when the gems were taken. It lingered. It had woven itself into our very being, etched into our veins like a brand.
I shake my head, trying to recall the details of Alister's plan. "The main thing is incapacitating her—hurting her enough to weaken her, but we can't kill her. We need her alive."
Steph's smirk wickedly. She slams her fist into her palm. "So, what I'm getting at is... we need to beat Alister to a pulp so he can't move. I've always wanted to do that." The thought of turning her frustration into something physical seems to light a fire in her.
But before I can even voice my thoughts, Steph's eyes snap toward the door. "Footsteps. Coming up fast."
Zach...
We slip into the shadows like ghosts. The sound of footsteps grows closer.
I'm not too worried about Zach. From the look on his face, he's having an intense battle with himself over what to do. And his reluctance to shoot Steph only proved it.
Good.
I stand next to the door, alert to every small shift around me. Steph, gun in hand, a breath away from being completely invisible beside the wardrobe. While Simon crouches behind the bed.
As I listen intently through the door, my senses sharpen, focusing solely on the rhythm of his movements.
He reaches the top of the stairs and turns left without hesitation. No pause in his stride.
He stops just outside our door.
What's more disturbing is how he didn't even check the first two doors. His pace never faltered, and he went straight for ours like he already knew where we were hiding.
A cold shiver runs down my spine. How did he find us so quickly? Did he see our footprints? Heard us? But we were whispering, though.
Could it be related to his ability? Precognition? Super instinct? Maybe. Could he see through the walls? Clairvoyance? The possibilities flood my mind, each one more unsettling than the last.
The door swings open, and his towering silhouette fills the doorway. When he steps in, I act fast, rushing forward with the intent to knock the gun from his hand—But he's faster.
He shifts his weight in an instant, yanking the weapon just out of reach while catching my wrist in a crushing grip. With a twist, he forces my arm outward, wrenching my fingers open. Pain shoots up my arm as the gun slips from my grasp.
It's...like he already knew I was here. Like he was waiting for me to strike.
In seconds, I'm slammed to the ground. Zach's knee drives into the center of my back, pressing me down, twisting my arm behind me at an angle that threatens to snap something if I resist.
"Back off. Now." Steph warns as she steps forward, aiming her gun directly at him.
He glares back at her, and I catch something—just for a second. A flicker of guilt in his eyes.
"I swear, if your mom were still alive right now, she'd wish she was dead because of you." The words are harsh and venomous. As soon as she says them, I feel his grip tighten around me. He's definitely been hit where it hurts.
"Zach, come on." Simon's voice cracks through the standoff, his gun held tight in his shaking hands. He peeks from behind cover. "You can't seriously be working for Leora. Why would you even believe what she tells you?"
He says nothing. But his eyes shift, darting toward the wall, then back to Steph's gun. Then, to his left before returning to the gun again.
I've seen this happen to Alister sometimes when he gets his hallucinations. But this guy is perfectly alright.
"You can see ghosts, huh?" I whisper. It makes sense how he could have communicated with her all this time.
His eyes meet mine, and there's an unspoken understanding that passes between us. I see it in the way his jaw tightens.
It's all I need to understand.
Steph's voice cuts through the tension. "Zach. Get off of her. I'm not gonna ask you again."
Slowly, he obliges, and I roll onto my side, trying to regain my breath. I sit up, rubbing my wrist. "It must have been awful."
His brows furrow. "What?"
I rise slowly, brushing dirt from my face. "Carrying the truth alone. Watching all of us get played while you had to pretend you didn't know." I step closer. "Because she was there. Because she could see you. Whisper to you. Use you. That had to be unbearable."
This is my moment. I can't let it slip. He's not lost, not completely. I can use it to make him let down his guard.
His jaw tightens. "I wasn't manipulated. I betrayed you because I chose to. For my own selfish reasons."
I shake my head. "No. The Zach I knew wouldn't have done this. Leora dangled answers about your mom, and you were hurting. You reached for it. Anyone would."
His fingers tighten around the gun.
"You were looking for the truth." I continue gently. "You were desperate. That's how she got in. She made you think this was the only path."
His eyes seem to soften. "No matter...how hard I looked into it, there was nothing I could find that indicated it wasn't an accident. Yet, the fact remains that there was something bigger behind it."
There it is—the crack.
"And she used that. She made you believe she had the answers. But do you really think, after everything is over, she won't dispose of you too? just like she did with Rubecca and Reeze? You think you're the exception, but you're just another pawn to her. And deep down, you know that."
His breath stutters. I sense his guilt, fear, regret spilling through the cracks he's tried so hard to hold together.
Steph steps forward, gun still in hand. "You were happy, Zach," she says, her eyes hard as she locks onto him. "You moved on. And now, you're throwing all that away... for what? To know the truth about your mom's death? Like that'll bring her back? Like it'll make a damn bit of difference?"
Zach looks at her as if she'd struck him. "It's like...you don't know me at all."
"Zach," Simon chimes in too. "We don't want to fight you. But if you help us, if you fight with us—when we win..." He pauses, his gaze turning hopeful. "We'll help you. We'll find the truth, together."
For a heartbeat, he doesn't move. But he lowers his gun. "Win? You don't get it, do you?" he mutters. "You don't stand a chance against her. She's taken over Alister completely. And with Simon destroying the gem, she's after the book now." He pauses. "If you just hand over the book, I'll let you go. It's the only way you'll survive."
Despite the cracks in his defenses, despite the flicker of hope that I thought I saw in his eyes, something gnaws at me. Zach is still playing both sides.
My voice comes out sharper. "No."
In one swift move, I reach forward, snatching the gun from his hand. Before he can react, I toss it across the room. At the same time, Steph throws the gun at him. He catches it but is suddenly shot when Simon shoots a dart at his stomach.
He clicks the gun at me as I back away from him but realizes it's empty.
This feels like deja vu.
Zach grunts as he plucks out the dart, his body already beginning to lean to the wall.
"Simon," I call out. "Get the tape from the bag. Tie him up."
He hesitates, but only for a moment before he scrambles to do as I say.
"I'm sorry, Zach." I stare at his tired eyes. "I can't let you stab us in the back again."
A look of resignation crosses his face as his legs give away. "I'm telling you. Your best option is to give it to me."
Simon, having approached Zach, moves cautiously, wrapping the duct tape around his wrists. Zach doesn't resist. He just lets it happen, his eyes distant as they slowly begin to get heavy. The sedative is starting to work.
I keep my eyes on Zach while strapping myself with more guns. I've already done what I can to coerce him to our side, but with his uncertainty, I shouldn't bet on it.
His lips part just as he slips into unconsciousness. "She's...healed now."
I turn sharply towards the door. The weight of the situation hangs over me like a storm waiting to break, but there's no turning back now. Even the air feels thick with the promise of something violent—something inevitable.
Making my way to the balcony and crouching low, just under the railing. The view from here gives me a clear line of sight to the door of the room below, the one Leora is supposed to come out of. My gun is aimed at the spot, my finger poised over the trigger, and I wait. I hear Steph and Simon stepping out of the room. I can feel them crouch down behind me, each one taking their place in the shadows.
Just shoot him. You can do it, Clara.
The door creaks open.
And then—he steps out.
Alister.
No. Not him. Leora. But it's his face. His body.
My throat tightens, and suddenly, my hands feel slick against the gun.
I should shoot. Now. Before he sees us. Before he can react. Before that thing inside him gets the upper hand.
But my hands won't stop shaking.
This is Alister.
The same guy who's fought beside me, bled beside me. The one who's made me laugh, cry and frustrate me to no end. The one who's always been there, standing by my side when I felt alone. The one who believes in me to pull this off.
I take a deep breath. He'll survive. That's what we planned. A non-lethal shot. I just have to trust that.
Alister—Leora—pauses. His head tilts, as if sensing something is off.
I force myself to exhale, aim—
And pull the trigger.
The gunshot cracks through the air. For a split second, I think I've done it. And then, my stomach turns cold.
There's no blood. No impact. The scene before me doesn't align with what should have happened. The bullet buried in the wooden doorframe, nowhere near its mark. The undeniable, horrifying reality slams into me all at once, like a delayed aftershock of an earthquake I should've seen coming.
His head snaps up at me, a smile spreads across his lips. She lifts a hand, fingers flexing like a puppeteer readying her strings.
Suddenly, we lift off the ground. My feet kick in the air as weightlessness overtakes me. Simon gasps but stays hidden while Steph lets out a startled yell. My stomach lurches as an unseen force yanks us two forward, dragging us both out of our hiding spot.
"Oh, Clara." Leora speaks, Alister's voice curling around the words like silk. "You hesitated."
The mansion's vast entrance hall stretches below us. Steph fires a series of quick shots in Leora's direction.
But to our surprise, they stop mere inches from her body. They do nothing but hover in the space between us, frozen midair as if caught in an invisible grip.
Leora doesn't even flinch. If anything, she looks amused. Her fingers twitch. The bullets drop. And so do we.
Gravity returns with a vengeance.
We scream as we plummet toward the ground floor.
The impact knocks the air from my lungs. Pain explodes through my shoulder as I land hard, rolling over rough marble. Steph crashes down nearby, groaning and struggling to sit up.
"I'm sorry...I missed." I cry out to her. But she doesn't answer. Because she knows I've messed up real bad.
Because I have never missed a shot.