☽ Faeloria ☾

This is the book Faeloria, hope you like it!

This is my sideblog where I post my process of making the book and the chapters or more about the characters⬇️

Lirael

I’d just gotten a drink, finally something cold in my hand, something to hold onto in all that noise.

And then, out of nowhere, someone bumped into me, makeing me spill my drink.

“Hey!” I snapped, looking down at my dress, now soaked.

A boy with red roots stood in front of me, like he didn’t understand why that might be a problem. “The police are here!” he shouted over everything.

And just like that, I noticed it. The chaos. People running, shouting, pushing past each other like the whole place was collapsing.

“Oh my God. What are we doing?!” The words came out before I could stop them, fear creeping in under the excitement.

“Come!” He grabbed my hand and didn’t wait for an answer.

We pushed outside just as flashing lights cut through the dark, police cars pulling up right in front of the villa.

“Run!” he yelled. So I did.

I ran with him, into the forest, my hand still in his, the ground uneven beneath my feet. Branches scratched at my arms, my dress catching on everything it could.

“What if we get lost?!” I shouted, breathless.

“There’s an abandoned mansion somewhere in here, we can hide there!” he called back, not slowing down.

Of course there is.

We kept going like that for minutes, long enough for the noise behind us to fade, for the adrenaline to turn into something heavier, something that made my head pound.

And then the cold hit. My dress, still damp from the spilled drink, clung to me, the fabric cold against my skin.

“Great,” I muttered, hugging my arms around myself. “This was my favorite dress.”

He glanced at me, like he was assessing something.

“Then why would you wear it to a party like this?”

I shot him a look. “Because I wanted to look good?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “I think it looks better like this.”

I stopped just long enough to shove him, walking ahead of him now.

“Okay, okay sorry,” he laughed, catching up easily. Then, after a second, he pulled off his patched letter jacket and held it out to me. “Here.”

I hesitated for half a second.

It wasn’t my style. Not even close.

But I was freezing.

“Thanks…” I muttered, taking it anyway, slipping it on and zipping it up. It was warm. Way too big. It smelled faintly like smoke and something sharper.

“Drystan” he said.

I froze for a second, turning to look at him.

“Like… the one from the band?” I asked slowly, the name clicking into place.

He gave me a look, half amused, half oh no.

“Oh..!” My hands flew to my mouth. “No way.”

“Yes way,” he said, and somehow he sounded almost… disappointed.

Like he would’ve preferred I didn’t know.

“And you are?” he asked.

“Lirael.”

He tilted his head slightly. “How do you even spell that?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yours is not better.”

“It is better,” he shot back instantly.

“It’s really not.” I shook my head.

“We’re almost there,” he said after a short silence.

His words made me look ahead. Through the trees, something began to take shape.

Nevera

The door creaked open like it was protesting.

The sound echoed through the empty building, sharp. I winced slightly as I stepped inside, the air colder than outside, heavier somehow.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a long time,” I said, glancing at Emrys. He was already looking around, quiet, taking everything in like he always does.

We weren’t alone. A girl sat further inside, legs crossed, adjusting the hem of her short silver skirt like she’d been here long enough to get comfortable. Dark hair, chocolate skin, confidence that didn’t need to try.

“And I thought I’d be the only one hiding here,” she said casually.

“You’re the one who threw the party, right?” I asked.

She smirked. “Yup. I’m Vanya.”

“Nevera,” I said, nodding slightly. “And this is my brother, Emrys.” He gave a small nod, still a bit withdrawn, but present.

I was about to ask about the police, whether she’d knew if they left, but the door groaned open again, cutting me off.

More footsteps. A boy with red hair stepped in first, scanning the place like he owned it. Behind him, a girl in a long blue dress, wrapped in a jacket that was very obviously not hers.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” the redhead said.

“Drystan!” Vanya perked up, surprised. Oh, he was guitarist of the band at the party. “Didn’t think you’d remember this place.”

He let out a quiet scoff, looking around like the walls held something only he could see. “Didn’t expect me to? We spent hours here when we were kids.”

“You’re the girl I bumped into earlier,” the girl beside him said, looking at me. “I’m Lirael.”

“I’m Nevera,” I said, giving her a small smile. My eyes dropped to her dress, the part that wasn’t hidden by the oversized jacket. “I really like your dress.”

She glanced down at it, then back at me. “Thanks. It’ll look even better after I wash it.Because someone..” Her eyes flicked to Drystan. “..made me spill my drink all over it.”

He rolled his eyes.

I couldn’t help but smile at thr sean in front of me.

“I guess we’re staying here for a bit,” Vanya said, already lowering herself back to the floor like she’d decided it for everyone. “At least until we know the police are gone.”

No one argued. Drystan dropped down next to her without hesitation, stretching his legs out. Lirael followed, a bit more carefully. Emrys and I sat down too, close enough that our shoulders brushed.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Emrys started coughing. It wasn’t even that loud, not really, but it hit me like something breaking. My chest tightened so fast I couldn’t breathe, like this was it, like this was the moment everything just…

He looked at me immediately. Of course he did. “I’m okay,” he said, already reading me, already calming me down before I could spiral.

Only then did my lungs start working again. The others didn’t seem to notice.

“Vanya, I really hope you don’t get into trouble with this whole police thing.” Lirael said, absentmindedly playing with the fabric of her dress.

“I kinda hope I do tho.” Vanya replied, staring off like she wasn’t fully here.

“Who the hell wants to get in trouble?” Emrys asked, still catching his breath.

She shrugged, a small, crooked smile on her lips that didn’t reach her eyes. “My parents wouldn’t care even if I got arrested.” She said it like a joke, but didn’t feel like one.

“Can’t relate,” Drystan said. “My parents are the best.”

Vanya elbowed him hard.

“My parents are always at work as well.” Lirael related. “I take care of my younger siblings all the time.”

“Shit, I could never. I hate kids.” Vanya said.

“Same.” I muttered.

Lirael laughed softly. “Is not thta I like them. I just don’t really have a choice. I snuck out of my window to come here.”

There was something in her face something lighter. Like this night meant more to her.

“Yeah, I told my parents we were going to our grandparents aswell so we could come.” I said.

“Our parents are really strict.” Emrys added. “We’ve never been to a party before.”

“Same.” Lirael nodded.

“Mine are chill about everything.” Drystan said.

“Mine don’t care about anything.” Vanya cut in. “I came out as gay two years ago and my mom just said, ‘Great, sweetie. Don’t be late for school.’ It was 8 p.m by the way.” She laughed but it was clear it was bothering her.

“That’s messed up.” Emrys said quietly.

“At least they’re not homophobic.” Drystan added, trying to lift the mood. It didn’t really work tho.

“Our parents are so strict we weren’t even allowed outside alone until two years ago.” Emrys continued, frustration slipping into his voice. “And even now, we can’t stay out past 6 and they track our location.”

“So they can find us right now?” Lirael asked quickly.

“No,” I said. “We turned our phones off.”

A small wave of relief passed through the group.

“Well,” Emrys said, tying his shoelaces like it was nothing, “I won’t have to deal with them much longer anyway.” I shot him a look. How can he even joke about this.

“What do you mean?” Vanya asked.

“Oh. I have lung cancer.” He said nonchalantly. Like it was nothing.

Silence.

“God…” Lirael whispered.

“Oh yeah I think I heard that from my mom.” Drystan said trying to remember. “And I thought my problems where big.” he muttered after.

“What problems do you even have?” Vanya asked him with a skeptical look.

“I do have problems as well.” he said quickly. “I’m just not sharing them with strangers. No offense.” he said looking at Emrys.

“None taken.”

“We are probably gonna see each other at school anyway.” Lirael said.

"The whole town probably knows at this point." Emrys said jokingly but he was clearly bothered by this fact.

“It's a small town. And nothing really happens here, so news about this kinda stuff travel fast.” Vanya added. The way she was talking about it looked like she knew aswell.

No one replied.

Vanya scrolled on her phone, the screen lighting up her face in short flashes. Drystan ran his fingers over a rough concrete block beside him. Lirael kept trying to wipe the stain out of her dress, even though it was already set. Emrys retied his laces.

“The police are still there.” Vanya said suddenly, letting out a small laugh as she looked at her phone. “Someone posted it on Instagram.”

Of course they did.

I leaned back slightly, resting my head against the cold wall. Outside, everything was still moving. But in here it felt like time had stopped.

“Let’s do something.” Drystan’s voice cut through the stillness as he pushed himself up from the floor, stretching like he couldn’t sit still any longer. “I’m bored. We’re gonna be stuck here for at least another hour.”

“And what exactly do you plan to do?” Lirael asked, arms folded, skeptical.

He glanced around, a slow grin forming. “Explore, maybe? This place is huge.”

“I mean… it’s not like we’ve got better options,” Vanya said, already getting to her feet.

“I guess…” I muttered, following as the rest of us stood.

We moved upstairs.

The house only got stranger the deeper we went. Furniture still sat where it had been left, hidden under dusty white sheets like ghosts pretending to be objects. Some rooms still had beds, duvets, pillows, everything in place, as if someone had just walked out one day and never came back.

There was even a living room. Two sofas, an armchair, a fireplace. Plants had started growing through cracks, dust layered over everything, but still.

“This is actually not bad,” Emrys said, pulling a sheet off one of the couches. Drystan immediately dropped onto it, like he’d been waiting for permission.

“Why is this place even abandoned?” I asked, brushing my fingers along the curtain. Dust came off too easily.

“Yeah, why leave all this behind?” Lirael added, wiping the fireplace with her sleeve.

“This house has been here forever,” Vanya said. “From what I knok something happened to the owners.”

“So they died?” Drystan asked.

“Or ran away,” she shrugged. “There are a lot of stories. I don’t know which one’s true.”

“There’s another floor.” Emrys said suddenly, already heading for the stairs. “Let’s check it out.”

We followed. The door upstairs creaked open.

“Holly shit” Drystan breathed.

Shelves lined the walls, packed with books and glass bottles filled with strange liquids and powders. A large worktable stood in the center, cluttered with tools, dried plants, and things I couldn’t even name. Candles of different colors were stacked neatly on a shelf.

“What is this place?” Lirael whispered.

“It looks like some kind of experiment room.” I said, picking up a small bottle and giving it a careful shake.

In the middle of the room stood a wooden stand. And on it a big book that looked older then the whole house.

I stepped closer, drawn to it before I could think twice. The cover was worn, the letters carved deep:

“Grimmoar.”

The others gathered close behind me. I reached out

The book opened. On its own!

Lirael screamed, and we all stumbled back instinctively.

“Now we know why this place is abandoned. It’s fucking haunted!” Drystan said, voice tight despite the smirk he tried to force.

“No,” I said quickly, my heart still racing. “I think they, the owners of the house, were the ones doing the ‘haunting’. Why else would they have a whole room like this?”

“Okay, okay,” Vanya said, already stepping forward from between us. “I wanna see what’s inside.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lirael said, her voice quieter now. “What if something happens?”

“Relax,” she waved her off. “I’m just reading, not summoning a demon.”

I moved closer too. I couldn’t help it. Curiosity burned stronger than fear. The page showed a drawing a star inside a circle, symbols at each point. Strange, precise.

At the top, written: “The Ritual of the Five Elements.”

“It’s some kind of ritual.” Vanya said.

“No shit.” Drystan muttered sarcastically. “What does it say?”

“This doesn’t feel like a good idea…” Lirael said again, even as she leaned in closer.

Vanya kept reading.

“This ritual will bind each element of nature to its chosen owner. If done with the wrong people, it won’t work.”

“What does it mean by ‘bind?’” I repeated.

“It doesn’t explain.” she said, scanning further. “You need five people, salt, and a symbol for each element.”

She pointed to the corner. “There were salt bags over there.”

“Wait we’re actually doing this?” Lirael snapped. “Have none of you seen a horror movie?!”

“It’s not that deep.” Drystan said, already helping Vanya drag the salt over.

“That book opened itself!” she insisted, pointing.

“Sure, it’s creepy,” I admitted. “but I kinda want to know what happens.”

“And I’m not dying without trying whatever this is.” Emrys added, half-joking. Half not.

Lirael didn’t argue again. She didn't leave tho.

“Okay, what now?” Vanya asked looking at me cuz I was the most closer to the book.

I leaned over the book. “Draw a star surrounded by a circle with the salt.”

They got to work,pouring, shaping, adjusting until something close to a pentagram formed on the dusty floor, as I continue to read: “This represents the pentagram. The symbol of the 5 elements of nature.”

“Now we need a symbol for each element” I continued. “Earth, Air, Water, Fire… and Spirit.”

“Soil for earth,” Emrys said as he went to one of the pots of dried plants.

“Candle for fire,” Drystan added taking one red candle and light it with a lighter from his pants.

“Water’s easy,” Lirael said, already moving to a faucet that was still working.

“I saw smudge sticks earlier. We could use that for the air element.” Vanya said looking around. “I just need to remember where I saw them…”

“And spirit?” Lirael asked.

Silence.

“What even counts as spirit?” Drystan muttered. “Dead people? A corpse?”

My hand stung. I looked down at the scratch from earlier. “What about blood?” I said quietly, holding it up.

That got their attention.

“That might work,” Drystan said.

We took our places. A red candle flickered in Drystan’s hand. Soil rested in Emrys’s palm. Lirael held a small bowl of water. Vanya gripped the smudge stick and light the up. And me with the blood from my hand.

“Each person stands at one point,” I read. “And recites the incantation.”

Everyone moved into the position the drawing showed. Except Lirael.

“Come on,” Drystan said. “Didn’t you say you didn’t want to be the ‘good girl’ anymore?”

She hesitated.Then stepped forward “Fine. But if something happens, it’s on you.”

We raised our hands. And together, we spoke.

“Earth, awaken, stone and root, Bind our flesh in ancient truth. Air, arise, breath unseen, Carry us where none have been. Water, whisper, tide and vein, Cleanse our souls in silver rain. Fire, ignite, ember bright, Forge our will in searing light. Spirit, eternal, veil untorn, Unite the five, let power be born.” we recited the incantation three times.

Then we waited for something, anything. Everyone was looking around for a sign that me actually made something happened, but nothing.

Nevera

We’d already done the mall, every single one of his favorite stores, every stop that used to light him up without effort. I made sure of it. Dragged him from one place to another like I could stitch together a perfect day with all the things he loved.

But he didn’t buy anything. Not even the things he used to hesitate over, the ones he’d pick up and turn in his hands like he was already imagining them as his. Now he just looked. Smiled a little. Put them back.

We’re at the amusement park now anyway. It’s closing in two days, school’s starting again so everything’s cheaper, a last attempt to squeeze something out of the summer before it disappears.

We get our tickets. Step inside. For a while, it almost works.

We play every rigged game we can find, laughing when we lose, pretending we’re surprised when we don’t win. I almost suggest the roller coaster. I want to, but the thought hits me too fast. His breathing. His lungs. The way even small things tire him now. So I don’t. Instead, we drift toward the Ferris wheel. Slow. Safe. Harmless.

We’re in line, almost at the front, when- “Nevera? Emrys? Oh my God, Emrys, is that you?!”

No! Not now!

Mrs. Miller is the lady that worked at the bakery close our house. She steps right in front of us, all wide eyes and too much emotion.

“Oh, sweetheart… how are you holding up? It must hurt, doesn’t it?” Her hand comes up, pressing against his cheek like she has a right to it.

I feel it instantly, that shift. The air changing. The weight dropping back down. He was just having fun.

“Your parents must be crushed,” she says, hand to her chest like she’s the one carrying it.

“They’re fine, thanks. We were just about to go on the wheel.” I start, trying to pull him away, trying to fix it, but he stops me.

“It’s fine.” he says to me, his voice is calm. Too calm.

He looks at her. Smiles. “I’m fine, thank you. It doesn’t hurt.”

He’s lying. I know he is. He’s been coughing all day.

“And yeah, our parents are really sad. But they’re strong. They’ll get through this.” he continues, but he looks at me while talking.

And something in my chest twists so tight it almost hurts.

No, I’m not.

I’m not strong.

I’m not getting through this.

When she finally leaves, it feels like we’ve both been dropped back into something we were trying to escape.

We get on the Ferris wheel anyway.

The seat rocks slightly as it lifts us, slow and steady, the ground pulling away beneath us. For a moment, there’s quiet, real quiet, above the noise, above everything.

“Nev… thank you.” I turn to him. “For this day,” he says, softer now. “I really appreciate it.”

That’s it.

That’s all it takes.

My vision blurs instantly, everything going watery. I pull him into me, holding him too tight, like I can keep him here just by not letting go.

“I can’t lose you,” I choke out. “Not like this.”

He hugs me back. Tighter.

“It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine without-”

“Without you?!” I pull back just enough to look at him. “No. I’m not! Emry, I can’t do this without you. I’ll find a way, I’ll do something-”

“To save me?” he finishes, not even hesitating. There’s something in his voice. Not cruel. Just… certain. “Nev, you can’t save me. I have cancer.”

“Don’t say that!” The words tear out of me before I can stop them.

“Stop denying it! I’m gonna die! And you can’t do anything about it.” He says it so calmly it feels unreal. Like he’s talking about the weather.

We continued in silence after that.

---

By the time we step off, the sky’s already dark.

“Come on,” I say, forcing something lighter into my voice. “We should go if we want to make it to the party.”

He nods.

And for the first time since the Ferris wheel, I see it, something like excitement flickering back into him.

Good.

He needs that. We both do.

We get there just as the music starts bleeding out into the street. The villa’s already alive, lights flashing through the windows, bass shaking through the walls.

On the stairs, a couple stumbles out, tangled together, too drunk to notice anything but the others lips. We slip past them, into the noise.

Inside, it’s chaos. A narrow hallway opens up in front of us. To the left, a dining room packed with food, pizza boxes, snacks, drinks spilling over every surface. To the right, a closed door probably the bathroom, judging by the line forming outside it.

Straight ahead, a massive living room, full of bodies moving, shouting, laughing. Music crashes over everything, loud enough to swallow your thoughts whole. And in the center a band. Lights, guitars, a voice cutting through the noise.

Perfect.

I turn to him, forcing a grin, grabbing onto the moment before it slips. “Come on!” I shout over the music, leaning close so he can hear me. “Let’s get something to drink and go dance!”

Lirael

I just got to the party.

My legs are still shaking, half from the run, half from something buzzing under my skin. Adrenaline, probably. I mean… I just climbed out my window and ran through the night to get here.

I take the stairs two at a time, grinning like an idiot, like I might actually laugh out loud for no reason. The door’s already open, music spilling out into the dark, pulling me in before I even think.

Inside, it hits all at once. The bass is loud enough to sit in my chest, lights flashing in uneven pulses, and the air warm, heavy smells like alcohol, cheap perfume, and pizza that’s been sitting out too long. It’s messy and loud and alive.

I push forward, slipping into the crowd like I belong there, like I’ve done this a hundred times before. Bodies moving, voices shouting over the music, everything blending into one chaotic rhythm.

I bump into someone “Oh, sorry!” I turn quickly, hands half-raised, expecting someone annoyed.

But she just smiles. Her hair brushes against my hand as she turns, ashy blonde, almost white under the glowing lights. For a second, it catches me off guard, like something out of place in all this noise.

“No worries,” she says, soft, easy. then she continues her way along with a boy with the same hair.

Then the music crashes back in.

Someone yells the lyrics. Someone grabs my arm, pulling me further in, and I let it happen, no hesitation this time.

I get lost in it.

In the noise, the movement, the feeling of not having to think about anything except right now. My voice disappears into the crowd as I shout along, not even sure if I know the words.

And for the first time in a long time,

I feel free.

Finally, no responsibilities. Just me and myself. And a dozen other people that are way to close with me but anyways!

Drystan

I think we’ve already played everything we’ve ever written.

My throat burns, every word scraping on the way out, and breathing feels optional at this point. Like my lungs forgot how to do their job properly somewhere between the second chorus and whatever the hell I smoked earlier.

Bad idea.

Or a great one. Hard to tell.

Everything tilts just slightly when I move, the lights smearing into each other, the crowd blurring into one loud, living thing.

“Who wants to hear our new song?!” I shout into the mic.

The reaction is instant, screams, cheers, bodies pushing closer like I just said something that actually matters.

I grin.

God, I love this.

The noise, the energy, the way I can say anything, and they’ll eat it up like it’s gold. I could start listing random words and they’d still scream my name like it means something.

“Okay, good,” I add, voice rough, laughing into the mic. “’Cause I need a break. Then I’ll come back and bless your ears again.”

They laugh.

It’s not even funny.

Doesn’t matter.

Behind me, I step away from the mic just as Vanya climbs up onto a table like she owns the place. Well…she does, anyway.

“Guys!” she yells, grabbing the mic. “Don’t forget we’ve got a pool out back for anyone who wants a dip until Drystan and the band get back!”

The crowd shifts instantly, cheers, whistles, someone already halfway to the door. One guy’s already running with his pants in his hand

Yeah. Normal party at Vanya’s.

I shake my head, half-laughing, half-dizzy, and hop down, weaving my way through people. I need water. Or a drink. Or both.

Preferably something that makes the room stop spinning.

“Y’all were awesome!” Vanya appears out of nowhere and punches my shoulder hard enough to make me stumble a step.

“I’ve never seen so many girls,” she grins. “Too bad they’re all for you.”

I snort.

Van’s been around since forever. One of the only people I don’t have to perform for. No expectations, no weird tension, no hidden something underneath every conversation.

Just her.

“See that girl over there?” I nod toward a redhead across the room, leaning against the wall like she’s trying not to look interested. “She’s been watching you since I started singing. I don’t think they’re all for me.”

Vanya follows my gaze, eyes lighting up just a little.

There it is.

I smirk and pat her shoulder as I move past her.

I don’t even have to look to know she is already circling the girl.

Vanya

I've been dancing on that table since the party started. My legs hurt. I need to sit down somewhere.

I slide off the table, landing a little unsteady, laughing it off like I meant to. That’s when I start talking to this girl,she’s easy, laughing at everything I say, leaning in just enough.

Yeah. She’s into me.

I take her by the waist, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and guide her through the crowd, out toward the pool. The air outside is cooler, but the energy’s still there, people everywhere, lights reflecting off the water.

We both strip down to our swimsuits, quick and careless. I help her with the tie at her back, my fingers brushing her skin just a second longer than necessary. She doesn’t pull away.

The water’s warm when we step in, already full of bodies and movement. It feels good like everything slows down just a little.

“This is for Vanya and her fabulous parties!” some drunk guy I don't think I know yells, already half gone, before throwing himself into the pool and soaking everyone nearby.

I laugh, lifting my drink in his direction.

“So…” I turn back to the girl, leaning a little closer.“what are you doing after-” but police sirens cut me off.

“…well, fuck.”

For a second, nobody moves. Then it hits all at once, people scrambling, water splashing everywhere as everyone tries to get out at the same time. Screaming, shouting, chaos snapping the night in half.

Some run inside. Others head straight for the back, climbing fences, disappearing into shadows.

I don’t hesitate. I’m not sticking around for this. I don’t even look back to see where the redhead went. No time for that. No point.

I’m already moving, grabbing my clothes, pushing through the house, ignoring the noise, the panic. The main entrance is packed, so I veer off, cutting around the side and jumping the fence in the back.

Behind the villa is a large forest, and somewhere in the middle of the it is an abandoned mansion No one goes there because they say it's haunted. So it's the perfect place to hide from the police.

Pulling my clothes on as I go, not even caring how ridiculous it probably looks. Branches catch at my arms, the ground uneven beneath my feet, but I don’t slow down.

I keep running, the noise of the party fading behind me, replaced by the sound of my own breathing, my heartbeat, the forest closing in around me.

Emrys

Nevera and I were dancing, lost in the music and the crowd. Finally feeling like real teenagers. I don't think we've ever felt so relieved.

Then suddenly everyone started running.“What’s going on?!” Nevera yelled, her voice barely cutting through the noise.

“I don’t know-” I started to say but then we heard the police sirens. “Shit! We need to go!” I grabbed her hand without thinking, pulling her through the crowd, trying to find an exit, any exit, but there were too many people, all trying to do the same thing.

“There are too many!” she said, stopping suddenly. My chest tightened.

“Here!” she tugged me to the side. A window. Open. Dark beyond it. “We can go out the back.”

Good enough.

We climbed out, one after the other, landing unevenly on the other side. The air felt different out here, colder, quieter, but not for long.

In front of us, the forest stretched out. “Go,” I said. And we ran.

Branches scraped against us, the ground uneven, roots catching at our feet, but we didn’t stop. We just kept moving, deeper and deeper, putting distance between us and the villa, the lights, the sirens.

“Do you think they’ll search the forest?” I asked, breath coming fast, adrenaline still spiking through me.

“I don’t think they have time to look for every kid here,” Nevera said. Calm voice, but I could feel it in her grip, the way she held onto my hand. She was just as wired as I was. “But we can’t be sure. So don’t slow down.”

We didn’t. Not for a while.

Eventually, the sirens faded. The noise disappeared completely, leaving just the sound of our footsteps and breathing. We slowed to a walk, but we didn’t stop.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” I said, breathless, a stupid grin stuck on my face.

She took one look at me and couldn’t help but smile. “Better than homework, huh?” she said.

“I’m never doing it again after this.”I laughed under my breath.“You realize people do this every week?” I added, shaking my head. “That’s insane.”

“I’m good with once a month,” she laughed. “I don’t have this kind of energy every week” but then she slipped and hit the ground.

“Fuck, you good?” I crouched beside her, helping her up.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, still smiling like nothing could touch her right now. “Just a scratch.”

Her hand was cut, a thin line of red catching the light.

“It’s not serious. I’ll deal with it at home.” She wiped it with a napkin like it was nothing.

We started walking again.“There,” I said, pointing ahead. Through the trees, something took shape. Dark. Still. Too structured to be anything natural. A building.

Nevera

He has only one week left.

The thought settles in like something heavy and unmoving, refusing to be ignored. I turn it over and over in my mind, as if hoping it might somehow change it, but it never does. One week. Seven days. After that, the world continues, and he doesn’t.

I don’t know what I’ll do without him.

Emrys has been the only constant good thing in my life. Through the worst years, when everything felt like it was splintering apart, he stayed, he understood.

I’ve had friends, of course. People who laughed too loudly, promised too much, and faded just as easily as they arrived. They drifted in and out like seasons, warm for a while, then gone without warning. But Emrys… he was never like that.

They say there’s no bond like that of a siblings. Maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s because we’re twins, two halves that were never meant to learn how to exist apart.

And now, we have to.

I have to.

I won’t let him see how everything inside me is already starting to collapse, how every second feels like it’s slipping through my fingers too fast to hold. He has enough to carry without adding me to the weight of it. So I smile when he looks at me. I make jokes. I pretend there’s still time, as if pretending hard enough might make it real.

I’ve filled this week to the brim, plans stacked on top of plans, distractions carefully arranged so there’s no space left for silence. No space for the truth to creep in. If we keep moving, if we keep laughing, maybe we can outrun it. Just for a little while. Maybe if I make him forget about it he won’t die anymore.

Tonight, there’s a party. The kind we’re absolutely not supposed to go to, the kind that feels like stepping just outside the lines of everything we’ve ever been told. I told our parents we’d be at our grandparents’ place for the weekend. The lie slipped out easier than it should have.

Because what does it matter now?

Rules feel smaller when time is running out. Consequences feel distant, almost meaningless, compared to what’s already waiting at the end of these seven days.

So tonight, we’ll go.

We’ll get lost in the noise, in the lights, in something that almost feels like forever.

And for a few hours, at least, he won’t have to think about it.

And neither will I.

Emrys

Seven days left.

I try not to count them, not to line them up in my head like something that can be measured, spent, wasted. But it’s impossible not to. Every second feels louder now, like time itself is trying to be heard.

I know I shouldn’t think about it. About dying. About the exact moment my life just… stops. But how do you not think about something like that when it’s been handed to you like a deadline? Like an appointment you can’t miss.

The truth is, it could happen at any moment this week. Not even at the end. Not even with warning. Just…gone.

My parents cry every day. At first, it meant something. Or I thought it did. But now… I don’t know. There’s this hollow feeling I can’t shake, like their grief isn’t really about me. Because if it was, wouldn’t it have shown sooner? When I was still trying? When I stayed up all night to get perfect grades, when I stood there with medals in my hands and waited for something anything from them that felt like pride?

Even when I won first place at the math olympiad, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. And now I’m suddenly worth crying over.

They talk about it so much that it feels like the entire city knows. Everywhere I go, there’s that look…pity, curiosity, something in between. Someone always finds a way to remind me. You have a week left. You should be brave. You’re so strong. Like saying it out loud makes it easier for them to understand.

It doesn’t.

At least my sister isn’t like them. She acts like it doesn’t bother her, like this is just another week, like nothing is slipping away. She doesn’t say it out loud, doesn’t force it into every conversation the way everyone else does. And I’m grateful for that. I really am.

But I can hear her.

At night, when everything’s quiet and the walls feel thinner than they should, I hear it, the soft, broken sounds she tries so hard to hide. Muffled cries, like she’s afraid even her grief might take up too much space.

It was always the two of us against everything else. Always. And I know this… this is breaking her in ways she won’t ever admit.

She’s planned everything. Every hour, every day, filled to the edges so I don’t have time to think. So she doesn’t have time to think. It’s almost funny, in a way. How hard she’s trying to outrun something that’s already here.

Tonight, we’re going to a party. We’ve never been to one before. Our parents are too strict, too controlling, rules for everything, limits on everything. But she knows I’ve always wanted to go. So she lied. Told them we’d be at our grandparents’ place for the weekend.

I should feel guilty.

But I don’t.

For once, the rules feel small. Pointless, even. I just hope they don’t find out. Not because of me, I won’t be around long enough to deal with the consequences.

But her…

They’ve always taken their anger out on her more than me. I don’t know why. Maybe because she fights back. Maybe because she cares too much.

I don’t want this week to hurt her more than it already will.

So tonight, I’ll go with her.

I’ll laugh, even if it feels strange in my chest.

I’ll pretend, just like she does.

And for a few hours, maybe I won’t feel like someone who’s about to die.

Lirael

Today, I’m in charge again.

Luan and Meeri are already arguing over something stupid, something small enough that it shouldn’t matter, but loud enough to fill the whole house. My parents are gone, of course. Another “important meeting.” Another night where responsibility gets handed down like it’s part of my name.

Which means I’m babysitting. Again.

I know I’m the older sister. I know what that’s supposed to mean. Responsibility. Patience. Being the one who keeps everything from falling apart. But I’m so tired of it, of being the one everyone assumes will handle things without complaint. Like I was born already grown, already capable, already done becoming.

I practically raised them.

I’m the one who makes their food, who reminds them to brush their teeth, who cleans up the messes they don’t even notice they make. I’m the one waiting at the school gates, the one checking homework, the one tucking them in when the house gets too quiet.

Sometimes it feels like I skipped something. Like I went straight from being a kid to being… this.

And no one even noticed.

There’s a big party tonight, everyone’s going.

And tonight I’ll go aswell!

The night air will be cold, probably. It always is when you’re about to do something you’re not supposed to. I’ll climb out anyway, careful not to make a sound, and drop down into the quiet like I’ve done this a hundred times, even though I haven’t.

And then I’ll go. Just for a few hours, I won’t be the one holding everything together. I won’t be the responsible one, the careful one, the one who always stays.

I’ll just be… me.

And for once, that has to be enough.

Drystan

There’s a big party tonight. Everyone’s going. So are we.

For most people, it’s just a party, loud music, cheap drinks, something to talk about the next day. For us, it’s a stage. A crowd. Another night of being watched, listened to, talked about.

We’re playing a live set. Dropping the new song.

But right now, all I can think about is rehearsal.

We’re in my garage, same as always. Cables everywhere, amps humming, that familiar echo that turns every mistake into something bigger than it is. I run the same part again. And again. And again. It has to be clean. Tight. Perfect. Because if it’s not, people notice. And once they notice, they don’t forget.

The others don’t seem as tense. Or maybe they just hide it better.

I don’t.

I keep hearing the song in my head, not as it is, but as it should be. Sharper. Better. Worth all the noise people make about us.

My parents don’t mind the rehearsals. They actually come sometimes when they have time and listen to us. They say they like the music, that they’re proud, that it’s “nice to see the house full.”

They’re not the only ones.

There’s always a crowd. Tonight, it’s bigger than usual, girls leaning against the doorframe, sitting on the steps, pretending they’re here for the music. Maybe some of them are. Most aren’t. I catch the looks. The whispers. The way they laugh a little too hard at things that aren’t even jokes. It used to feel strange. Then flattering. Now it’s just… background noise.

They don’t really see me. Not past the idea they’ve built. And honestly, I don’t have the time to care. There’s a song to get right. A set to deliver. A moment that’s supposed to matter.

Tonight, I’ll step out there, lights in my eyes, crowd pressed close, and I’ll give them exactly what they came for. Every note where it belongs. Every word hitting just right.

They’ll scream. They always do. And when it’s over, they’ll remember the music. Or the image of it. Either way, it works.

But until then “Again,” I say.

Because ‘good’ isn’t enough. Not tonight.

Vanya

I’m throwing a party tonight.

Not just any party, the kind people talk about before it even happens. The whole town’s invited. Music, lights, noise loud enough to shake the walls. Drystan’s band is playing live, which means even more people then usual. Well, more girls then usual. Whatever. It still fills the house.

I told my parents everything. Didn’t even bother to hide it. Illegal party. Alcohol. Strangers. The works. My mom barely looked up. Just smiled like I’d told her I was going to the store and said, “Great, sweetie. Don’t stay up too late.” Then they left. Just like that. Door closing, engine starting, gone.

For a second, I almost wished they’d yell. Ground me. Say something that meant they actually saw me standing there.

But no.

This house is always like this, big, quiet, empty in the worst way. You could disappear in it and no one would notice until the next morning. Maybe not even then.

So yeah, I’m throwing the party.

If they won’t fill this place with anything real, I will. I’ll pack it with people, with music so loud it drowns out the silence, with laughter. By midnight, every room will be full. Strangers on the stairs, drinks on every surface, someone yelling over the music, someone breaking something, someone kissing someone they barely know.

And for a few hours, it won’t feel so empty.

For a few hours, I won’t feel so…

I don’t know.