"Who are you?" Carrie asked, her voice trembling, eyes brimming with tears.
She sat on her bed, knees drawn tightly to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as if shielding herself from the whole world. The room's darkness seemed to swallow her, and the only light came from the hallway, where the silhouette of a stranger stood framed in the doorway.
The boy—tall, with slightly tousled dark brown hair and deep blue eyes—smiled gently.
"My name is Nathael," he said, his voice so calm it seemed to still the very air around them. "And I'm like you."
Carrie looked at him, confused.
"Like me?"
"Yes," Nathael said, making no move to come closer. "Someone who feels things others don't understand. Someone who has… something more."
He gestured with his hand. From the air, a soft golden light—warm and pure, as if he'd captured a fragment of the sun and held it without burning—formed in his palm.
Carrie instinctively shrank back, pressing her spine against the bed.
"No!" she cried, eyes wide. "That's sin! It's… demonic!"
Nathael didn't flinch. He simply closed his hand slowly, and the light vanished.
"It's not sin," he said calmly. "It's magic. And it doesn't make you a sinner. Quite the opposite—it makes you unique among millions."
Carrie stared at him, fear and hope mingling in her eyes.
"Magic?"
"Yes," he nodded. "Some people are born with something special inside. It's not evil. Not demonic. It's rare, yes… but beautiful. And you have it."
"But my mother says it's from the devil," Carrie whispered.
"Your mother is afraid," Nathael said. "Fear makes people say things that aren't true. But you don't have to live in fear. Not if you don't want to."
Carrie looked down. Tears still fell, but she no longer sobbed.
"Do you think… there's anyone else like me?"
"More than you imagine," Nathael said. "And they have a place where they can be safe—where no one judges them for who they are. Where they can learn to use their gift without shame."
Carrie looked up again.
"A place?"
"Yes," Nathael said. "And I can take you there. If you want."
He took a slow step forward and extended his hand.
"You're not alone, Carrie. You never were."
Carrie stared at his hand. It trembled. All her life, she'd longed to belong somewhere—to be seen, to be accepted. And now, before her, stood someone who not only saw her… but understood her.
She hesitated.
"And… my mother?"
"Don't worry about her," Nathael said, firm but gentle. "Now, think about yourself."
Carrie took a deep breath. Then, slowly, she took his hand.
As they stepped out of the room, Carrie saw her mother standing in the living room—eyes wide, mouth agape, as if witnessing something impossible. Fear surged through her.
"Mom!" she cried, pulling her hand from Nathael's.
But he stopped her with a single word.
"Calm."
He raised his wand—a sleek black wand Carrie hadn't noticed before—and without speaking aloud, cast a spell.
A silvery flash shot from its tip and enveloped Margaret White.
She blinked, as if waking from a dream. Then she looked around, confused.
"Who… who are you?" she asked, her voice strange, as if she recognized nothing.
Carrie gasped.
"Mom!"
But Margaret didn't look at her. She only frowned, as if trying to recall something already gone.
Nathael took Carrie's hand again.
"Now," he said, "you're free."
Carrie looked at him, eyes flooded with tears and confusion—but also… relief.
They walked outside.
Night had fallen, and Forks was wrapped in a light winter fog typical of the region. Parked at the curb was a black sedan.
Carrie stopped, afraid.
"Is that… your car?"
"Yes," Nathael said. "And don't be scared. I'll introduce you to my friends. They're… like you. Some more, some less. But all of them are people you can trust."
They approached the car.
Inside, three people watched her with curiosity.
In the passenger seat sat a white cat—immaculate, with sapphire-blue eyes and a dark blue jacket—regarding her with a serious but kind expression.
In the back: a blond boy with intense eyes, a girl with bushy brown hair offering an empathetic smile, and a beautiful young woman in her twenties, wrapped in a green scarf, radiating warmth.
"We're here," Nathael said, opening the back door.
Carrie hesitated—but then got in.
The brown-haired girl looked at her with understanding eyes.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Hermione."
"And I'm Draco," said the blond boy, his voice softer than Carrie expected.
"Kate," said the young woman. "Welcome."
Carrie only nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.
Nathael got into the driver's seat and started the engine.
"Celestia," he said, glancing at the cat, "since there's no room, Carrie will sit with you in the front."
Celestia huffed, but nodded.
"Fine," she purred. "But next time, rent a bigger car. This is beneath my dignity."
Carrie blinked.
"You… talk?"
Celestia arched an eyebrow.
"Of course I talk. Did you think I was an ordinary cat?"
Carrie shook her head quickly.
"No, no… it's just… I've never seen…"
"You'll see many things," Nathael said, pulling away from the curb. "Things you never imagined possible."
He glanced at Carrie in the rearview mirror.
"You must have a lot of questions."
She nodded.
"Yes… so many."
"I'll answer them," Nathael said. "All of them. But first, we need to find a hotel. Then… I'll tell you everything."
Carrie nodded again—and this time, for the first time in her life, she didn't feel alone.
She looked out the window. Behind them, Forks' lights faded into the distance, as if the past were slipping away.
And ahead, the road stretched open—long, unknown… but free.
Kate smiled at her from the back seat.
Hermione offered her a cookie.
Draco said nothing, but gave a small nod—as if he already knew what it felt like to be judged without reason.
And Celestia, with elegant grace, shifted to give her more room.
Carrie took a deep breath.
For the first time… she breathed without fear.