#the variable series

One rainy Tuesday, Kai stood in the shadows of the hallway, watching a private lesson in the study. Jo and their younger brother were seated at the oak table, laughing as they practiced a levitation spell. Joshua stood behind them, his hands resting proudly on their shoulders.

Kai felt a familiar, jagged ache in his chest. It wasn't just the isolation; it was the hunger. Without magic to touch, he felt physically hollow, like a person starving in a room full of people feasting.

He retreated to the basement, the only place he felt he could breathe without being watched. The air down there was thick with the scent of old paper and damp stone. He sat on the floor near a heavy iron-bound chest that belonged to his ancestors. Even through the wood, he could feel it—a faint, rhythmic thrumming. The chest was protected by a boundary spell, meant to keep anyone from opening it without the proper bloodline ritual.

For years, he had been told that magic was a gift you were born with. But as Kai stared at the chest, a dark, rebellious thought flickered in his mind. If it's there, and I'm here... why shouldn't it be mine?

He reached out, his fingertips grazing the cold iron lock.

The moment of contact was electric. The boundary spell flared, a invisible wall of force meant to repel intruders. To any other teenager, it would have felt like a painful shock. To Kai, it felt like a feast.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into it. He closed his eyes and imagined his hands as open valves. He felt the ancient, stagnant magic of the seal begin to buckle. It resisted at first, a stubborn knot of energy, but Kai pulled harder, fueled by three years of being called a "void."

Suddenly, the knot snapped. A rush of pure, raw power surged up his arms, filling the emptiness in his chest with a terrifying, intoxicating heat. His vision blurred, and for a second, the dark basement was illuminated by a dull, pulsing violet light emanating from his own skin.

The chest clicked open. The magic was gone, drained completely into him.

Kai sat back, gasping, his heart thumping a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He felt... heavy. Strong. For the first time since he was ten, the "cold" was gone. He looked at his hands, watching the faint glow fade back into his skin.

He looked up at the ceiling, toward the rooms where his "perfect" family lived. They thought he was a ghost. They thought he was nothing without them. But as he felt the stolen power humming in his veins, a slow, jagged smile spread across his face.

He didn't need a spark. The whole world was full of other people's fire

He was sitting on the cold floor, his back against the now-empty ancestor chest, still feeling the faint, electric tingle of the magic he’d just consumed. It made him feel more awake than he’d been in years.

The wooden stairs creaked—a specific, light rhythm he knew by heart. It wasn't the heavy, judgmental thud of his father or the hurried steps of the younger siblings. It was Jo.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, carrying a ceramic plate piled with chicken and rolls. She looked around the dim room, her eyes softening when she spotted him tucked in the shadows.

"I saved you the best pieces," she said, stepping over a stack of old newspapers to reach him. She sat down on the floor beside him, ignoring the dust on her skirt. "You didn't come up for the blessing. Dad waited for a minute before he started."

Kai didn't look at the food, though his stomach twisted with hunger. He looked at the flickering light of the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. "He wasn't waiting for me, Jo. He was waiting to see if I’d show up so he could give me that look. You know the one."

"He's just... he's stressed about the Coven, Kai," Jo said, though her voice lacked conviction. She pushed the plate toward him. "Please eat. You can come to dinner, you know. You're part of the family."

"Am I?" Kai finally looked at her, his eyes sharp and hollow. "At the table, I'm just a ghost that eats his food. I'm the mistake he has to look at between bites. I don't want to deal with the disgusting looks he gives me anymore. It’s easier down here where the air doesn't feel like it’s choking me."

Jo reached out, her hand hovering near his arm. She hesitated for a heartbeat—the memory of the pain from three years ago still lived in the quiet spaces between them—but then she followed through, resting her hand gently on his sleeve. She didn't feel a sting this time, just the fabric of his shirt.

"I don't look at you like that," she whispered. "I miss my twin. We’re supposed to be a team, remember? The willow tree?"

Kai felt a surge of genuine affection for her, but it was tangled with a new, darker sensation. Now that he knew he could take magic, the humming vibrant energy inside Jo felt like a siren song. He could feel the pulse of her power through his sleeve. It was so close. So warm.

He pulled his arm away, but not because he was angry. He did it to protect her from the hunger he was starting to feel.

"I remember," Kai said, his voice softening just a fraction. He took a roll from the plate and bit into it, the bread tasting like ash compared to the magic he’d swallowed earlier. "But the team is broken, Jo. Dad broke it the second he decided I was a 'void.'"

Jo looked at him, her eyes searching his face for the boy he used to be. "I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him see."

"Don't," Kai said quickly, his grip tightening on the roll. "Just... stay with me for a bit. Tell me what they’re learning up there. Tell me everything."

As Jo began to describe the new concealment charms their father was teaching them, Kai listened intently. He wasn't just listening to be close to his sister anymore. He was taking notes. He was learning exactly where the magic was hidden in the house, waiting for him to find it.

The heavy thud of the basement door upstairs signaled Jo’s departure, leaving Kai alone in the suffocating quiet once more. He didn't eat the rest of the food. The physical hunger was gone, replaced by a buzzing, frantic Need.

Jo had mentioned the "concealment charms" their father had placed around the house—spells designed to hide the family's more powerful artifacts from outsiders. To Kai, these weren't just security measures; they were hidden batteries, tucked away in the walls and floorboards, waiting to be drained.

He stood up, his movements fluid and predatory. He didn't need a flashlight. He followed the "hum."

He crept up the stairs, avoiding the boards he knew would creak. In the upstairs hallway, hanging between his parents' room and the bathroom, was an ornate silver mirror. To a normal eye, it was just an antique. To Kai, it felt like a low-frequency vibration against his teeth.

He pressed his palm flat against the cold glass.

For a second, the mirror shimmered, a pale blue light rippling across the surface as the charm tried to push him away. Kai bared his teeth in a jagged grin. He didn't push back with force; he simply opened himself up. He imagined he was a desert and the mirror was a well.

The blue light began to swirl, spiraling toward his palm like water down a drain. He felt the rush—cold, sharp, and exhilarating—as the magic left the silver and poured into his veins. When he pulled his hand away, the mirror looked dull, its silver backing suddenly tarnished. The "hum" was gone.

Emboldened, he moved toward his father’s study. Joshua had placed a "Silent Entry" ward on the door to ensure no one could sneak in. Kai knelt by the frame, placing his fingers on the wood.

This magic felt different—stiff and authoritative, just like his father. It resisted him with a sharp sting, like a thousand needles pricking his fingertips. Kai didn't flinch. He welcomed the pain because it meant the magic was strong.

He leaned his forehead against the door, breathing in the scent of old parchment and stolen power. He drank it in, gulping down the ward until the wood felt like nothing more than wood.

By midnight, Kai was vibrating with an intensity he had never known. He had "collected" four different charms:

The Mirror of Reflection.

The Silent Entry Ward.

A protection hex on a decorative dagger in the display case.

A minor growth spell on the potted ferns in the foyer.

He retreated to his small, cramped bedroom, his skin feeling too tight for his body. His eyes, reflected in the window, seemed to catch the moonlight with a strange, unnatural glint.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. For years, he had felt like a ghost, a hollow shell of a person. But now, as the stolen magic swirled inside him, he felt heavy. He felt solid.

He wasn't just a Parker anymore. He was a vault. And as he drifted into a restless sleep, he realized he didn't care if his father ever looked at him again. He didn't need his father’s approval when he could simply take his father’s world, one hidden spell at a time.

The house began to feel different—brittle, like a dried leaf ready to crumble. Every time Joshua walked through a doorway, he paused, his brow furrowed as he sensed the thinning of the wards he had spent years perfecting. He checked the silver mirror, then the study door, his fingers tracing the wood in confusion. The magic wasn't just fading; it was being erased.

Kai watched from the shadows of the landing, his hands shoved deep into his pockets to hide the faint, rhythmic pulsing in his fingertips. He felt heavy with the weight of a dozen stolen charms. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like a hole in the world; he felt like the center of it.

That night, Jo found him sitting on the back porch, staring at the moon. She sat down beside him, her presence still radiating that warm, natural hum that used to make him ache with envy. Now, it just felt like an invitation.

"Dad is acting strange," she whispered, pulling her sweater tighter around her. "He says the house is 'leaking.' He thinks there’s a hex or a breach in the Coven’s protection. He’s been in the study all evening trying to recant the anchor spells."

Kai let out a short, dry laugh. "Maybe the house is just tired of being watched, Jo. Maybe it wants to be empty for a change."

Jo looked at him, her eyes searching his face in the pale moonlight. For a second, she saw a spark in his gaze—not the warm glow of a Parker flame, but something sharper, colder, and far more hungry. She instinctively pulled her hand back from the space between them.

"You look different, Kai," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You look... full."

"I feel great," Kai replied, standing up and looking down at her with a terrifyingly calm smile. He didn't reach out to touch her, but he could feel her power vibrating in the air, a final prize he wasn't quite ready to claim yet. "I think I’m finally starting to grow into myself. Just like Dad wanted."

They eventually collapsed under the shade of a massive weeping willow, chest heaving and faces flushed. Kai rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand to look at his sister.

"Do you think he’ll let us start tonight?" Kai asked, his eyes bright with a hunger he couldn't quite name. "Dad said ten is when the real tether forms. That’s today, Jo. We’re ten."

Jo smiled, picking a stray leaf out of her hair. "He has to. We’re the twins. The Coven is basically waiting for us to grow up so we can run things. Imagine it, Kai. We’ll be able to move the clouds if we want to."

Kai reached out, tentatively locking his pinky finger with hers. The contact was harmless then—just skin on skin, a brother and sister making a pact. He didn't feel the void yet, and she didn't feel the sting.

"Promise me something," Kai said, his voice dropping to a serious, childish whisper. "Promise that no matter how powerful we get, or how many spells they make us learn, we do it all together. No secrets. Just us."

Jo squeezed his finger tight, her expression mirroring his intensity. "I promise. We’re two halves of the same soul, Kai. That’s what Mom says. You’ll never have to do magic alone, because I’ll always be right there to hold your hand."

Kai beamed, a rare, genuine warmth spreading through him. In that moment, the future looked like a kingdom they were going to build side-by-side. He imagined the sparks they would create, the way the elements would bow to them, and the pride he would finally see in his father's eyes.

"Let's go inside," Kai said, jumping to his feet and pulling her up with him. "I don't want to waste another second. I want to feel it. I want to see what I can do."

They ran toward the house, hand-in-hand, two children standing on the precipice of a discovery that would change everything they had just promised.

The screen door slapped shut behind them, a sharp wooden crack that echoed through the high-ceilinged hallway. They didn't slow down, their sneakers squeaking on the polished hardwood as they burst into the study.

Joshua Parker was sitting behind his heavy mahogany desk, a stack of leather-bound grimoires open before him. He looked up, and for a moment, the stern lines of his face softened. He wasn't the cold leader of the Coven in this moment; he was a father watching his children cross a threshold he had been waiting for since the day they were born.

"There they are," Joshua said, his voice warm and resonant. He stood up, rounding the desk with a grace that felt both powerful and welcoming. He reached out, ruffling Kai’s messy hair and giving Jo a gentle pat on the shoulder. "I could hear the pair of you halfway across the county. I take it you haven't forgotten what day it is?"

"We’re ten, Dad!" Kai exclaimed, his chest puffing out. "You said ten is the year. You said we’d start the real lessons."

Joshua laughed—a genuine, rich sound that filled the room. "I did indeed. And I’m a man of my word. Come here, both of you."

He led them over to a small circular table near the window, where the late afternoon light filtered through the glass in dusty, golden beams. On the table sat two simple white candles in silver holders. Joshua pulled out chairs for them, his movements patient and kind.

"Today isn't about power," Joshua explained, leaning down so he was eye-level with them. "It’s about the connection. Between the two of you, and between your spirits and the world around you. You’ve both grown so much. I can’t tell you how proud it makes me to see you standing here, ready to take your place."

Jo beamed, her eyes darting to Kai, who was practically vibrating with excitement. Joshua placed a hand on each of their backs, a steady, grounding presence.

"The Gemini Coven is built on unity," Joshua whispered. "And you two... you are the heart of that unity. Are you ready to see the spark?"

Kai nodded vigorously, his hands resting on the table, fingers twitching. He looked at the candle, then at his father’s smiling face, feeling like he was finally about to become the person he was always meant to be.

Kai leaned back slightly, his eyes dancing with a restless energy. He wanted to grab the candle, to be the first one to prove himself, to see that spark ignite under his own command. But he looked over at Jo. She was biting her lower lip, her small hands trembling just a fraction as they hovered near the wick. The confidence she’d had under the willow tree had wavered now that the heavy grimoires and their father’s expectant gaze were actually upon them.

Kai reached out and gave her elbow a quick, encouraging nudge. "Go ahead, Jo," he whispered, his voice soft and surprisingly patient. "You first. I want to see how you do it so I can do it even better."

Joshua chuckled, his hand resting warmly on Kai’s shoulder. "A true gentleman, Malachai. Very well, Josette. Don't be afraid of the power. It's already a part of you. Just breathe, and tell the flame to wake up."

Jo took a deep, shaky breath. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing in deep concentration. For a long, silent moment, nothing happened. Then, a faint, rhythmic humming seemed to vibrate from the table itself. A tiny, golden spark leapt from the air, catching the wick. With a soft whoosh, the candle bloomed into a perfect, steady light.

"I did it!" Jo gasped, her eyes snapping open, shimmering with a mix of shock and pure joy. "Dad, did you see?"

"I saw," Joshua said, his face radiating a pride that made the whole room feel warmer. "Beautifully done. Natural. Fluid. You have a gift for the hearth, Josette."

He turned his smile toward Kai, and for the first time in his life, Kai felt like he was standing in the center of the world. He was so happy for his sister, but he was starving for that same look of approval. He wanted to feel that hum in his own blood.

"Alright, my boy," Joshua said, stepping closer to Kai’s side of the table. "Your turn. Match your sister’s light. Show us that Parker fire."

Kai nodded, a determined grin splitting his face. He rubbed his palms together, feeling the heat of his own excitement. He didn't have a doubt in the world. He closed his eyes, mimicking Jo exactly, reaching deep inside himself for the spark his father talked about. He waited for the hum. He waited for the warmth to rise from his chest to his fingertips.

But inside, there was only a hollow, heavy stillness.

Kai squeezed his eyes shut so tight he saw stars behind his eyelids. He reached for the warmth Jo had described, but the harder he reached, the more he felt like he was grasping at thin air. The silence in the room became deafening. The rhythmic humming he’d heard when Jo was practicing didn't come for him. There was just the sound of his own heavy breathing and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.

"Come on, Malachai," Joshua said, his voice still encouraging but slightly more expectant. "Just a flicker. Don't overthink it. It's in your blood."

Kai tried again. He strained until his face turned red, his small hands clenching into white-knuckled fists on the table. Nothing. The wick stayed cold and black. He opened one eye, looking at the dead candle, then up at his father’s face. The pride he had seen there just moments ago was starting to fade into a look of quiet confusion.

"I can't," Kai whispered, his voice cracking. "Dad, it’s not there. I’m trying, I promise I’m trying."

A hot tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. He felt a wave of crushing shame. He was ten. He was a Parker. This was supposed to be his birthright. Joshua sighed, the sound hitting Kai like a physical blow.

"Sometimes," Joshua said, his tone shifting to something more clinical, less fatherly, "the spark takes longer to surface in some than others. Perhaps you just aren't ready."

The disappointment in his father's voice was too much. Kai put his head in his hands, a sob breaking through. Immediately, Jo was there. She couldn't stand to see him hurt. She reached out and grabbed both of his hands in hers, squeezing them tight to comfort him.

"It’s okay, Kai," she murmured. "We’ll just do it together like we said—"

But as soon as their skin met, the atmosphere in the room snapped.

Jo’s eyes went wide. The comfort she meant to give turned into a sharp, jagged scream. Her face drained of color as if something were being physically pulled out of her.

"Kai! Let go! It hurts!" she shrieked, her body jerking.

Joshua’s face contorted with alarm. "Malachai, release her!" He lunged forward, grabbing Jo by the shoulders and ripping her away from Kai’s grip.

In that split second of contact—just as Joshua pulled them apart—the white candle in front of Kai didn't just light; it exploded into a violent, hungry pillar of flame that scorched the ceiling. The heat was immense, a raw and wild energy that didn't feel like the steady "hearth" magic Jo had used.

The room fell into a terrifying silence, save for the crackling of the oversized flame and Jo’s frantic sobbing as she collapsed against her father. Joshua stared at the towering fire, then looked down at Kai’s hands, which were still buzzing with a strange, stolen electricity.

The warmth was gone from Joshua’s eyes. He looked at Kai not as a son, but as a broken thing.

"You didn't have a spark of your own," Joshua whispered, his voice cold and hollow. "You took hers. You’re a siphon, Malachai."

He pulled Jo closer to him, shielding her, while Kai sat alone at the table, the fire he had stolen casting long, dancing shadows across his terrified face.

The next morning, the house was silent in a way Kai had never felt before. There was no smell of breakfast, no sound of Jo’s humming, and no heavy footsteps from his father.

Kai crept down the stairs, his heart hammering against his ribs. He found Joshua standing by the large window in the study, staring out at the yard where Kai and Jo had played just twenty-four hours earlier. The golden light was the same, but the man looking at it seemed to have aged a decade.

"Dad?" Kai whispered, his voice small and trembling.

Joshua didn't turn around. His shoulders remained stiff, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

"I checked on your sister," Joshua said, his voice stripped of the warmth from the day before. "The marks on her arms... they're gone, but the chill in her blood remains. You didn't just light a candle, Malachai. You took a piece of her to do it."

"I didn't mean to!" Kai stepped forward, his eyes stinging with fresh tears. "I just wanted to feel what she felt. I wanted you to be proud of me."

Finally, Joshua turned. But he didn't reach out to ruffle Kai's hair. He didn't even step closer. He looked at Kai with a profound, quiet disappointment that felt worse than anger. It was the look of a man staring at a broken tool that could never be fixed.

"A Parker is a source of power, Malachai. A leader. A protector," Joshua said, his words cold and rhythmic. "But you... you are an empty well. You are a siphon. You can only exist by draining the life from those around you."

"I'm still your son," Kai choked out, reaching a hand toward his father.

Joshua flinched—a small, instinctive pull backward—as if Kai’s very touch was a threat. The movement was quick, but to Kai, it felt like a door slamming shut forever.

"You are a void," Joshua said, his voice dropping to a final, devastating whisper. "And from this day on, you are not to touch your siblings. You are not to touch me. You will live in this house, but you will not be of this house. Do you understand?"

Kai pulled his hand back, tucking it into his pocket as if it were a weapon he had to hide. He looked at his father’s stony face and realized that the promise he and Jo made under the willow tree—the one where they would do everything together—had been burned away by that blue flame.

"They’re going to be strong," Joshua murmured. "Perfect balance. The Coven's true heart."

Kai’s grip tightened on the doorframe. He felt a cold, oily slick of resentment slide down his throat. He wasn't looking at his parents; he was looking at the future that was actively erasing him.

"Kai? What are you doing?"

He didn't jump. He just turned his head slowly, the "Mask" sliding into place with a practiced, jagged ease. Jo was standing behind him, clutching a shopping bag from a high-end baby boutique. A tiny, lemon-yellow knit cap poked out from the top.

"Just watching the miracle of life, Jo," Kai drawled, his voice a dry, papery whisper. "It’s a real tear-jerk. Dad’s currently auditioning for the role of 'Loving Parent.' I think he’s a bit of a miscast, personally, but the critics in the womb seem to love it."

Jo’s expression shifted from surprise to that pinched, weary disappointment that had become her default. She didn't offer a witty comeback. She didn't even try to laugh. "You’re being bitter again. It’s been months, Kai. Can’t you just be happy that Mom is healthy? That we’re getting more family?"

"More family," Kai repeated, his eyes dropping to the yellow cap in her hand. "Is that what we're calling them? I thought they were called 'Plan B.' Or 'The Upgraded Models.'"

"Stop it," Jo snapped, her voice low but fierce. She brushed past him, her shoulder hitting his with a solid thud that she didn't apologize for. She walked into the room, her face transforming instantly into a mask of warmth. "Mom! Look what I found at that shop in town. They’re organic cotton."

Kai watched from the hallway as Jo knelt beside their father. She was part of the circle now. She was folding tiny clothes, talking about names, and laughing at the way the "miracles" kicked. She had moved into the light, and in doing so, she had left him in a darkness that was no longer just lonely—it was becoming predatory.

He looked at his own hands. They felt heavy. Lethal. He didn't just want to siphon the magic from the walls anymore; he wanted to reach into that circle and tear the warmth right out of it.

He didn't hate the babies. He didn't even know them. What he hated was the way Jo looked at them—with a loyalty she used to reserve for him. He hated that she was willing to be a sister to them while he was still standing right here, rotting in the hallway.

He didn't say another word. He turned away from the door and walked toward his room, his footsteps silent on the expensive rug. The humor was gone. The sarcasm was just a thin veneer over a growing, sociopathic clarity.

If the house was full of light, he would just have to be the one to turn it off.

The day the twins were brought home, the house didn't just feel full; it felt crowded. Every hallway was blocked by a stroller, a bassinet, or a relative cooing over the "future of the Gemini."

Kai stood in the doorway of the nursery, his shadow stretching long across the soft, cream-colored carpet. Inside, the scene was a tableau of everything he had been denied. Joshua was sitting in a rocking chair, cradling one of the infants—Luke—with a look of such profound peace that it made Kai’s skin crawl. Jo was standing by the changing table, expertly swaddling Olivia, her movements confident and maternal.

"She has your eyes, Mom," Jo whispered, her voice thick with a genuine, sickeningly sweet affection.

Kai leaned against the doorframe, his fingers twitching in his pockets. He felt the hum of the house—the protection wards, the luck charms, the nursery spells—all of it vibrating in a frequency that felt like a scream in his ears.

"Look at that," Kai said, his voice cutting through the quiet like a rusted blade. "The Holy Trinity. Plus two. It’s like a Renaissance painting, if the artist had a thing for beige and betrayal."

Joshua didn't even look up. "Leave, Malachai. You’re upsetting the air."

"Oh, wouldn't want to upset the air," Kai mocked, stepping into the room. He walked toward Jo, his eyes fixed on the small, pink bundle in her arms. "Can I see? Or am I too 'hollow' to be around something so 'whole'?"

Jo stepped back instinctively, pulling the baby closer to her chest. It was a small movement, but to Kai, it was the final door slamming shut. She didn't trust him. She saw him as a threat to the new things she loved. The sister who had promised together forever was now a guard at a gate he wasn't allowed to pass.

"You're scaring her, Kai," Jo said, her voice hard. "Just... go to your room. Please."

Kai stopped. He looked at Jo, then at the baby, then at his father’s back. For the first time in his life, the sarcastic remark died in his throat. The "Mask" didn't just crack; it dissolved, leaving behind a cold, crystalline vacuum.

He looked at the tiny, pulsing vein in the baby’s temple. It was so fragile. So easy to stop.

A dark, heavy urge—something he didn't have a name for yet—began to bloom in the base of his skull. It wasn't just anger. It was a cold, logical conclusion. If these two didn't exist, the "Plan B" would be gone. If they were gone, Joshua would have to look at him again. If they were gone, Jo would have no one left to love but him.

The thought didn't feel evil to him. It felt like balance. It felt like a siphoner’s version of justice. He imagined his hands around those small, soft throats, taking not just their magic, but their very breath, until the house was quiet again. Until he was the only one left.

He felt a strange, terrifying calm wash over him. The jealousy was gone, replaced by a singular, focused intent. He realized then that he didn't need their love, and he didn't need their Coven. He just needed them to be gone.

"You're right, Jo," Kai whispered, his voice sounding hollow and metallic, even to his own ears. He took a step back, a slow, terrifyingly empty smile spreading across his face. "I should go. I have a lot of... planning to do. Big things. Very 'transitional' stuff."

"You know, if you keep glowing like that, we won't need to pay the electric bill," Kai drawled, tossing a grape into the air and catching it in his mouth. "Dad would love that. He’s always looking for ways to cut costs on the 'disappointment' side of the family."

Jo didn't look up from her grimoire. She was nineteen, too, but while Kai looked like he’d spent the night in a basement, she looked like a leader. "I’m practicing, Kai. Dad says my capacity is increasing. I have to be ready."

"Ready for what? To be the shiny trophy on the mantle?" Kai hopped off the counter, his movements fluid, almost predatory. He stepped into her space, his shadow falling over the ancient pages of her book. "He’s got you convinced you’re the sun, Jo. But even the sun has a dark side. Usually, that’s where I live. It’s got better snacks."

Jo finally looked up, her eyes hard. "It’s not a joke anymore. We’re getting closer to the date. Dad says your... condition... makes the Merge impossible for you. He’s already talking to the Coven about the younger twins."

The "condition." The "void." The words felt like a cold splash of water, but Kai didn't flinch. He let out a sharp, dry laugh.

"The 'condition,'" Kai repeated, his voice dropping into a dangerous, mocking whisper. He reached out, his hand hovering just an inch above the open book. He didn't touch it, but he could feel the magic on the pages vibrating, desperate to be taken. "He’s spent nineteen years telling me I’m empty, Jo. But I’m starting to think he’s just scared of how much I can actually hold."

"He's not scared of you, Kai," Jo said, her voice softening with that pity he hated more than her anger. "He's worried about the Coven. You have to understand—"

"I understand everything," Kai snapped, the humor vanishing for a split second, revealing the jagged edge of his resentment. "I understand that you get the library, the lessons, and the 'future,' while I get the scraps. I understand that you’re the golden child and I’m the glitch."

He leaned in, his face inches from hers. "But here’s a fun fact about glitches, Jo. They don't just go away. They break the whole machine."

He turned and walked toward the basement door, his hands deep in his pockets. He didn't need her pity, and he didn't need her "lessons.

The atmosphere in the Parker estate was electric, but not with the kind of magic Kai could use. The grand ballroom was filled with the elite of the Gemini Coven—men in sharp suits and women in silk, all of them radiating a synchronized, rhythmic hum of power that made Kai’s skin itch.

He stood in the shadows of the mezzanine, a stolen glass of champagne in his hand, watching the sea of "perfect" people below. He wasn't supposed to be here. Usually, for events like this, Joshua had a way of suggesting Kai find a movie to watch in the basement or "study" in the library. But tonight, his father had sent a formal request.

Be there, Malachai. It is a night of transition.

"Transition," Kai whispered into his glass, his trademark smirk twitching. "Sounds like a fancy word for 'we're moving your stuff to the curb.'"

He felt a presence beside him. Jo was there, wearing a dress that looked like it cost more than his entire existence. She looked anxious, her fingers twisting a loose thread on her sleeve.

"You're actually here," she said, her voice barely audible over the quartet playing below. "I didn't think you'd come."

"Dad asked so nicely. He used his 'do-this-or-I'll-seal-your-bedroom-door' voice," Kai drawled, taking a sip. "Plus, I heard there were shrimp puffs. I’m a sucker for hors d'oeuvres and elitism."

"Kai, be serious for once," Jo hissed, looking around to see if anyone was listening.

Before he could offer a biting retort, the music stopped. The room fell into a practiced, respectful silence. Joshua Parker stepped onto the small dais at the front of the room, his wife, Sangeeta, standing beside him. He looked younger tonight—energized.

"Members of the Gemini," Joshua began, his voice carrying without the need for a spell. "We have gathered you here because the spirit of the Coven has seen fit to bless its leading line once more. Sangeeta is with child. We have been told by the seers... it is twins."

A collective gasp, then a roar of applause, swept through the room like a physical wave. People began embracing; the joy was palpable.

Kai felt the air leave his lungs. He didn't join the applause. He felt his hand tighten around his glass until the stem groaned. He looked at Jo, expecting to see his own horror reflected back at him, but she was smiling. It was a small, hesitant smile, but she was looking at their mother with a spark of genuine hope.

"A new generation to lead us into the next century!" Joshua shouted over the noise. He raised a hand, and the room quieted. His eyes drifted upward, locking onto Kai’s position on the mezzanine with the precision of a hawk.

"And let it be known tonight," Joshua’s voice took on a hard, ceremonial edge. "With this blessing, the path of the Coven is clear. The lineage is renewed. There will be no Merge for those who cannot hold the power themselves. The future belongs to the whole, not the hollow."

The guests turned, following Joshua’s gaze. Hundreds of eyes landed on Kai.

Joshua wasn't just announcing babies; he was officially declassifying Kai as a member of the succession. He was telling the entire Coven that Kai was a dead end.

"Well," Kai said, his voice loud enough to echo in the sudden silence of the mezzanine. He didn't hide. He leaned over the railing, his smirk wider and more jagged than ever, even as his heart felt like it was being ground into glass. "I guess that saves me a lot of time on my 'How to Lead a Coven' PowerPoint presentation. Anyone want my shrimp puff? I seem to have lost my appetite."

He turned and walked away, the sounds of the celebration resuming behind him, louder and more joyous now that the "problem" had been addressed.

"But I did," Kai’s voice purred from the shadows. He wasn't at the foot of the table anymore. He was moving. "I took the wards. I took the history. I took the 'Future.' It’s amazing how much room there is inside a 'broken vessel' when you actually start filling it up."

A match struck. The tiny flame illuminated Joshua’s face, pale and sweat-slicked. He tried to channel a simple fire spell, but the spark sputtered and died in his palm. He looked up, and there was Kai, standing directly behind Jo.

Kai didn't have the knife out yet. He had his hands on Jo’s shoulders. She was trembling so violently the silver on the table was rattling.

"Remember the promise, Jo?" Kai whispered into her ear, his breath hitching with a manic sort of glee. "Together forever. You, me, and the void. But you got bored of the void, didn't you? You wanted the light. You wanted the nursery and the organic cotton and the 'normal' life."

"Kai, please," Jo sobbed, her voice a mere ghost of itself. "They're just babies. They're your siblings."

"They're my replacements," Kai corrected, his voice dropping to a low, lethal octave. "And in the Gemini Coven, we know what happens to things that are no longer needed."

He let go of her shoulders. The silence that followed was the most terrifying part. He didn't scream. He didn't rant. He just moved through the dark with the predatory grace of someone who had finally found his purpose.

Jo didn’t wait for the screaming to start. she lunged for Luke and Liv, her hands trembling as she scooped them off the window seat.

"Don't make a sound," she whispered, her voice paper-thin. "We’re going to play a game. We’re going to be as quiet as shadows."

She didn't head for the front door Joshua would be there, and Kai would be looking for the obvious exits. Instead, she ducked into the service corridor, stumbling over the hem of her dress as she pushed the twins into the cramped, cedar-lined darkness of the linen closet. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She could hear the heavy thud of footsteps in the foyer and her father’s panicked yelling, but it was the silence coming from the basement door that terrified her more.

She pressed her palm against the wall, trying to feel for the hum of the house’s protection spells, but there was nothing. The stone was dead. Kai had hollowed it out.

The hunt was beginning. Kai knew every secret passage, every creaky floorboard, and every hiding spot in the house. Kai moved through the walls—literally. He knew the servant passages, the hollowed-out spaces behind the linen closets, and the way the floorboards groaned in the east wing but stayed silent in the west. He didn't run. He drifted, the violet hum of siphoned power making him feel light, almost ethereal. To the Coven members scrambling in the dark, he was a ghost; to Kai, they were just noisy, panicked animals.

He heard the stifled sob before he saw her. It was coming from the massive linen closet, a place they used to hide in as children during games of seek.

He pushed the door open slowly. The hinges, which he had oiled himself that morning in a fit of "helpfulness," didn't make a sound.

Jo was huddled in the corner behind a stack of industrial-sized flour sacks. She was clutching Luke and Olivia to her chest so tightly the toddlers could barely whimper. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot, found Kai’s in the dark.

"Found you," Kai whispered.

"Kai, please," Jo breathed, her voice trembling. "We were a team. You said it. Together forever. You can still stop this. We can tell Dad it was an accident, a surge—"

"Together forever," Kai repeated, the words tasting like copper in his mouth. He stepped closer, the hunting knife catching a sliver of moonlight from the high pantry window. "It’s a beautiful sentiment, Jo. Really. But 'together' implies we're on the same side. You aren't on my side. You're on their side. You’re the one who told me to stop being 'difficult' while they were measuring me for a cage."

"I was scared!" Jo hissed, her voice cracking as she huddled in the back of the pantry, shielding the twins. "I just wanted one normal day!"

"And you got it," Kai said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly soft, conversational tone. He leaned in, the light from the hallway casting a long, jagged shadow over her. "You got your turkey. You got your toasts. And now, you get the consequence of pretending I didn't exist."

He didn't hesitate. He lunged. He grabbed Jo, his hand moving with a sickening familiarity toward her side. He didn't just want to hurt her; he wanted to take the one thing that made her "better" than him. As he began the siphoning, the scream she let out was the first real sound to break the silence of the house.

He didn't finish her not yet. He had a schedule. he pressed it up under her ribcage as she bucked and shrieked. Even the twins dumb, useless, stunned could only clutch each other and watch the madness. The blade sawed through muscle and tissue, splattering her white sweater with arterial arcs. He was crying, or maybe just sweating hard enough for it to stream down his face, jaw clenched so tight it looked like his teeth would crack. There was no warning, no threat, no prelude: he was methodical in the way he carved, digging his thumb inside the wound, rooting around with the animal curiosity of a child who’s never seen anatomy up close.

He found the spleen by accident, yanking on it as Jo howled and retched. It was a purple, fist-sized thing, pulpy and glistening, and Kai ripped it free with a noise that left Jo gasping on the floor, Kai stepped over the threshold, mind empty of everything but cold purpose. Their mother stood frozen in the hallway the woman whose eyes had slid past him for years like he was made of smoke. No speeches formed in his throat; the coven was beyond saving, and without the magic he needed, Jo would die anyway. Their mother's hand rose in a trembling plea, her lips forming his name. "Too late." His magic surged with brutal efficiency, fueled by the simple thought: This is what you deserve. As her body crumpled, he felt nothing just a hollow satisfaction as another bar of his cage shattered.

he walked toward the grand staircase where Joshua was still roaring his name, Kai wiped a stray drop of blood from his cheek. The old man's magic couldn't save him now not with the twins' power humming inside Kai's veins.

"You're next," Kai called up, adjusting his grip on the knife. "Then Jo." His smirk widened as his father's face contorted with fear. Finally. After all those years of being the family disappointment, the siphoner, the abomination they would understand what real power looked like.

Kai was a blur of helpfulness. He spent the morning in the kitchen, his "Mask of Normalcy" polished to a high, terrifying shine.

"Need the heavy platters from the top shelf, Mom?" Kai asked, his voice light and airy. "I’ve got them. Don't want you straining yourself before the big dinner."

He spent an hour in the dining room, meticulously setting the table for twenty. He hummed a soft tune, his fingers trailing over the silver forks. To Jo, who was watching him from the doorway while balancing a fussy Luke, he looked... cured.

"You’re being really great today, Kai," Jo said, her voice cautious but genuinely appreciative. "I know the holidays are usually... hard for you. Thank you for doing this."

"It’s Thanksgiving, Jo-Jo!" Kai chirped, sliding a crystal water goblet into place. "Time to count our blessings. And I have so many. Really. I’m feeling very... full today."

He wasn't lying. Underneath his skin, the "itch" was becoming an agonizing thrum. He had spent the previous night siphoning every minor artifact in the east wing. He felt like a live wire, his veins buzzing with a stolen current that made his vision sharpen to a predatory edge. He could feel the ley lines of the house pulsing beneath the floorboards—the "nerves" of the estate's protection wards.

He even volunteered to watch the twins while the rest of the family had pre-dinner drinks in the parlor. He sat on the rug in the nursery, stacking blocks for Olivia.

Look at them, Kai thought, his eyes tracking the pulse in Olivia's neck. So small. So full of the "future." They don't even know they're sitting in a house that's already been hollowed out.

He stacked a red block on a blue one. "Almost time for the big meal, guys," he whispered, his smile never wavering. "Almost time for the toast."

He stood up, his heart beating a slow, heavy rhythm against the pressure of the stored magic. He could hear his father’s booming laugh from the parlor—the sound of a man who thought he had finally secured his legacy.

Kai smoothed down his shirt, checked his reflection in the nursery mirror, and prepared for the "Last Supper."

Kai moved through the hallways with a ghostly silence, his skin humming with the static of the magic he’d spent the morning hoarding.

He stopped outside the heavy oak doors of his father’s study. The wood was cold, but the voices inside were sharp.

"The transport is set for 1:00 AM," Joshua’s voice was devoid of the warmth he’d just used with the guests. It was the voice of a man checking a ledger. "The cabin in the woods is shielded. He won't be able to siphon anything but the air he breathes."

"And the family?" an Elder asked. "What do we tell them?"

"That Malachai has chosen a path of seclusion for his own stability," Joshua replied. "He is a 'broken vessel,' Elias. We’ve spent twenty-two years trying to glue the pieces together. It’s time we stop pretending he’s a son and start treating him like the liability he is. Once he’s gone, the younger twins can grow without his shadow."

He found Jo in the sunroom, surrounded by the chaos of the holiday. She was laughing, trying to keep Luke from pulling the tablecloth while she tucked a sprig of dried corn into a centerpiece. She looked happy. She looked like she belonged.

"Jo," Kai said. His voice was flat, stripped of the manic "helpful" energy he’d performed all morning.

"Not now, Kai," Jo muttered, her focus entirely on the table. "The Elders are going to be seated in twenty minutes and I still haven't found the carving set. Can you go check the kitchen?"

"They’re sending me away tonight, Jo. To a cage in the woods."

Jo paused, but she didn't look up. She just sighed, a long, weary sound of someone who had heard too many of his "theatrics."

"Dad mentioned a retreat," she said, her voice tight with exasperation. "He said it would be good for you. Some quiet time to... I don't know, find some balance? Honestly, Kai, after the way you’ve been acting lately, maybe a break is exactly what we all need."

"A break?" Kai’s eyes widened, his heart hammering against the stolen magic in his chest. "He’s discarding me. He’s throwing me in the trash so he can play 'Gemini Coven' with the new models. And you’re just... okay with that?"

Jo finally looked at him, but her eyes weren't full of the "Together Forever" promise. They were full of a cold, social exhaustion. "It’s Thanksgiving, Kai. It’s a beautiful day. The babies are happy. For once, can you just stop being so difficult? Stop trying to ruin everyone’s mood because you’re bored. Just... go to your room until dinner. Please."

She turned back to the baby, brushing Kai off like a stray hair on a sleeve.

Kai stood there for a long moment, the silence of the room roaring in his ears. He realized then that there was no "Together" anymore. She had traded him for the light, leaving him to rot in the dark.

"You’re right, Jo," Kai whispered, a slow, terrifyingly empty smile spreading across his face. "It is a beautiful day. I should really make sure everyone remembers it."

He walked toward the butcher block, his movements fluid and unnervingly calm. His hand hovered over the wood before closing around the hilt of the hunting knife. The cold steel felt grounding against the frantic, searing heat of the magic currently saturated in his bone marrow.

To any other Parker, this was the safest time of day. To Kai, it was the perfect time to pull the plug.

He could feel the house "breathing," the massive influx of power rushing through the ley lines beneath the floorboards. He knew exactly where the primary junction was located—right beneath the dining room where the family was currently laughing.

A small, silver-framed mirror hung near the pantry—a gift Jo had bought for their mother years ago. Kai caught his reflection and stopped.

His skin looked translucent, the veins in his neck glowing with a faint, sickly violet hue from the over-saturation of siphoned power. His eyes were wide, the pupils blown out, reflecting the bruised purples and oranges of the dying sunset.

He searched for the boy who used to kick a soccer ball against the garage with Jo. He looked for the kid who used to make her laugh until she snorted. He found nothing. That boy had been starved out, replaced by a hollow thing that had finally learned how to fill itself.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Malachai," he whispered to the glass, his voice a dry, papery rasp.

He didn't recognize the man in the mirror, but for the first time in twenty-one years, he didn't feel like a mistake. He felt like an inevitability.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and the first "click" of the evening wards echoed through the house's magical signature. Kai gripped the knife tight, felt the power in his veins surge toward a breaking point, and stepped out of the kitchen

The long mahogany table was crowded with the elite of the Gemini Coven, the air thick with the scent of roasted turkey and the expensive, floral perfume of the elders. At the far end, the twins sat in their high chairs, messy and oblivious, while Jo laughed at a joke an uncle had made. It was a scene of perfect, exclusionary warmth.

Joshua stood, tapping his crystal glass with a silver spoon. The ringing sound commanded an immediate, respectful silence.

"A toast," Joshua announced, his voice resonant with the authority of a leader who had finally secured his legacy. "To the Gemini. To the strength of our bloodline and the children who carry it. We give thanks today for a future that is finally clear of the shadows of the past. To Luke and Olivia—the perfect future of our coven."

"To the future," the table echoed in a harmonious swell.

"It’s a nice speech, Joshua. Really. Very moving," a voice drifted from the darkened archway.

Kai stepped into the candlelight. He wasn't slouching, and he wasn't smiling. He looked strangely tall, his posture rigid and his skin pale enough to look marble-white. The sarcasm was gone, replaced by a flat, terrifyingly calm cadence.

"Though, you skipped the footnote," Kai continued, walking toward the foot of the table. "The part where the 'shadow' gets moved to a cabin in the woods at 1:00 AM. The 'quarantine' part. You really should work on your transparency."

The silence that followed was heavy. Jo’s glass hovered near her lips, her eyes wide with a sudden, sharp fear. Joshua’s face hardened. "Malachai, go to your room. This is not the time."

"Actually, it’s the perfect time. Because I’m finally full," Kai whispered.

The overhead chandelier flickered, the light turning a sickly, bruised purple before the bulbs shattered. The temperature in the room plummeted, the warmth of the Thanksgiving meal replaced by a biting, unnatural chill that made everyone’s breath hitch in their throats.

Then, Kai pulled.

He opened himself up and became a vacuum, siphoning the massive, peaked energy of the dusk wards all at once. The sensation was like a physical shockwave. The protective sigils carved into the foundation groaned, and a literal "blackout" of magic swept through the room.

In the sudden, suffocating darkness, the only thing visible was the faint, violet glow of the veins beneath Kai’s skin. The wards were gone. The house was defenseless. And for the first time in twenty-one years, the useless boy was the only one in the room with any power at all.

He was in the kitchen, tossing an apple from hand to hand, watching Jo rush around as she looked for her car keys. She was sixteen now, her life a whirlwind of varsity soccer, study groups, and a phone that never stopped buzzing with texts from people Kai had never met.

"Looking for these?" Kai asked, dangling the keys from his pinky finger. He’d plucked them off the counter ten minutes ago just to see how long it would take her to notice.

"Kai, give them back. I’m already ten minutes late for the pre-game dinner," Jo said, her voice sharp and lacking the warmth it used to hold. She didn't look at him; she looked at the keys.

"Dinner? Again? Honestly, Jo, the amount of carbs you're consuming for a sport that involves kicking a ball across grass is statistically alarming," Kai drawled, his voice dripping with practiced nonchalance. "Stay here. I was going to tell you about the incredibly boring dream I had where Dad actually smiled at me. Spoiler alert: it was a nightmare."

"I don't have time for your 'bits,' Kai," Jo snapped, reaching out and snatching the keys from his hand. Her fingers brushed his, and she flinched—a tiny, instinctive recoil that she tried to hide by turning away quickly. "Not everyone has the luxury of sitting around all day making fun of things."

Kai felt the flinch like a physical slap, but he didn't let the smirk slip. "Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I’m the only one in this house without a social calendar. My bad. I’ll make sure to pencil in 'Being Judged by My Twin' for next Tuesday."

"Maybe if you actually tried to be part of the family instead of hiding in the basement and acting like a jerk to everyone, people would want to be around you!" Jo turned at the door, her face flushed with frustration.

"I'm right here, Jo. Hard to be more 'part of it' than standing in the middle of the kitchen," Kai said, his voice dropping an octave, the humor thinning out.

"No, you aren't. You’ve isolated yourself. You make these weird comments, you creep around the hallways, and then you wonder why nobody talks to you," she said, her hand on the doorknob. "It’s your fault, Kai. You chose to be like this. You’re the one who pushed everyone away."

She slammed the door behind her, the glass rattling in the frame.

Kai stood alone in the quiet kitchen, the apple still in his hand. He looked at his fingers—the ones she didn't want to touch. He hadn't chosen to be a siphon. He hadn't chosen to be the only person in the house who felt like a ghost. He had isolated himself because the alternative was watching them all look at him with a mix of pity and fear.

He took a slow, deliberate bite of the apple. It tasted like nothing.

"My fault," he whispered to the empty room, his eyes dark and fixed on the door. "Right. Because I’m the one who decided I was broken."

He walked toward the basement door, the "normal" mask sliding back into place as he prepared for another night of being the only person in the world who existed in his version of reality.

The house was a tomb of expensive furniture and ancient secrets, and Kai was the only thing in it that felt out of place. He sat on the floor of his room, his back against the bed, tossing a small, smooth stone he’d siphoned the "weight" out of earlier. It felt light as a feather in his palm, a physical manifestation of how hollow he felt inside.

It’s your fault. Jo’s words played on a loop in his head, a jagged record that wouldn’t stop skipping.

He tried to stoke the fire of his resentment. He tried to imagine her as the enemy—the golden child, the "source," the girl who got to have friends and a boyfriend and a future that didn't involve being a human battery. He wanted to hate her. It would be so much easier if he could just flip a switch and feel nothing but cold, hard spite.

But as he stared at the empty space beside him on the rug, the bitterness folded in on itself. If he hated Jo, the world went completely dark. She was the only thread left connecting him to anything resembling a person. Without her, he wasn't just a siphon; he was an island. And as much as he joked about loving the isolation, the silence was starting to scream.

The door creaked open. Kai didn't look up, instead focusing on the stone as it levitated an inch above his palm, fueled by a tiny spark of stolen static.

"I brought the good kind," a voice said softly. "Extra butter. The kind that makes your fingers gross for three days."

Jo slid into the room, leaning against the doorframe. She was holding a striped bucket of movie theater popcorn, the smell of salt and artificial warmth cutting through the stagnant air of the room. She looked tired, the soccer jersey she was wearing rumpled, her expression stripped of the anger from earlier.

"I’m not hungry," Kai lied, his voice flat. "I’m currently busy being a 'jerk' and 'isolating myself.' My schedule is very full."

Jo winced, crossing the room to sit on the floor a few feet away from him. She set the popcorn between them like a peace offering. "I shouldn't have said that, Kai. It wasn't fair. I know this house... I know it’s different for you. I get caught up in everything out there, and I forget that you’re stuck in here."

Kai finally looked at her. He wanted to say something biting, something that would make her leave so he could go back to his comfortable misery. But his throat felt tight.

"I don't hate you, Jo," he whispered, the honesty slipping out before he could catch it. "I tried to for like, twenty minutes. It was exhausting. I gave up."

Jo let out a small, relieved laugh and nudged the popcorn closer. "Good. Because hating me would make tonight really awkward."

Kai eyebrow arched. "Tonight?"

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Dad thinks I’m going to sleep early because of the game tomorrow. But Peter’s brother left his keys in the truck, and there’s a drive-in double feature three towns over. Nobody knows we're going. Not even Dad’s sensors."

She reached out, and for the first time in weeks, she didn't hesitate. She squeezed his hand. It wasn't a long contact—just enough for Kai to feel the hum of her life without taking it—but it felt like a lifeline.

"I'm sneaking you out, Kai," she promised, her eyes bright. "Just us. No Coven stuff, no 'siphon' talk. Just a really bad horror movie and way too much soda. You in?"

Kai looked at the popcorn, then at his sister. The "Mask of Normalcy" flickered, and for a second, the lonely ten-year-old boy was back. He reached into the bucket and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

"Fine," Kai said, his trademark smirk slowly returning to his face. "But if the movie is a romantic comedy, I'm siphoning the car battery and leaving you stranded. I have standards, Jo."

"Deal," she laughed.

The drive-in was a sea of flickering headlights and the smell of exhaust and popcorn. Kai sat in the passenger seat of Peter’s truck, his knees pulled up to his chest, looking out at the rows of teenagers laughing and leaning against their cars. To everyone else, this was a Friday night. To Kai, it felt like visiting another planet.

"Stop brooding, Kai. You look like a gargoyle," Jo whispered, leaning over from the driver's side. "Just... go get us some more sodas. There’s a group of girls from the junior class near the concession stand. They’ve been staring at you since we pulled in."

Kai adjusted his leather jacket, his fingers twitching. He hopped out of the truck, his boots hitting the gravel with a crunch that felt too loud. As he walked toward the neon-lit snack bar, he felt the heavy, thrumming absence of magic. There were no wards here. No ancient spells. Just the raw, messy energy of humans.

As he reached the counter, three girls shifted closer. One of them, a girl with bright eyes and a denim jacket, leaned against the wood and smiled. "Hey. I haven't seen you around. Are you new?"

The "Mask of Normalcy" snapped into place instantly. Kai didn't even have to think about it. He tilted his head, a slow, effortless smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m an urban legend," Kai said, his voice smooth and dripping with that practiced, dangerous charm. "I only appear during double features and full moons. Usually, I require a tribute of gummy bears, but for you, I’ll settle for a hello."

The girls giggled, leaning in. They liked the edge in his voice, the way he looked at them like he knew a secret they didn't. To them, he was the mysterious, cute guy with the sharp wit.

"I'm Sarah," the girl said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You're really funny. You want to come hang out by our car for the second movie?"

"I’d love to," Kai said, his eyes bright and engaging.

he brought the girls with him. Within minutes, he had them captivated, leaning into his space as he spun a ridiculous, fabricated story about being an exiled prince from a country they couldn't pronounce.

The blue light from the cinema screen flickered across Kai’s face, washing him in shades of sapphire and silver. He was lounging in the bed of the truck now, leaning back against the cold glass of the rear window with a calculated ease. Sarah was inches away, her shoulder pressed against his, while her friends sat huddled together in blankets nearby, hanging on his every word.

"So wait," Sarah laughed, nudging him with her elbow. "You’re telling me you were actually kicked out of a boarding school for 'excessive use of irony'?"

Kai took a slow sip of his soda, his eyes glimmering with a mischief that looked perfectly natural. "It was a very prestigious institution, Sarah. Very traditional. They didn't appreciate my thesis on why the headmaster's toupee was a sentient being trying to escape to the wild. It was a matter of artistic integrity, really."

"You're full of it," she teased, though she didn't move away. "I bet you’re just a straight-A student who’s secretly a giant nerd."

Kai leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hum that made the girls lean forward. "A nerd? Please. Nerds have hobbies like stamp collecting. I have hobbies like... watching people try to figure me out. It’s much more high-stakes."

"And has anyone figured you out yet?" Sarah asked. The playfulness in her voice had shifted into something softer, more curious.

Kai’s smile didn't falter, but for a split second, the mask felt heavy. Not even my own father, he thought. Aloud, he said, "I'm a rubik's cube, Sarah. Most people give up after two turns and go get a snack."

"I was always good at puzzles," she whispered.

She leaned in, the scent of her perfume—vanilla and something floral—filling the space between them. Kai didn't pull back. He met her halfway, his hand sliding up to rest gently on the side of her neck. The kiss was soft, uncomplicated, and tasted like the cherry soda they’d been sharing. For a moment, the screaming void in his chest—the one that usually hungered for the hum of a spell or the glow of a grimoire—actually went quiet.

He felt the warmth of her skin, the rhythm of a heart that didn't beat for a Coven, and the simplicity of a Friday night. It was a glimpse into a life where 'Malachai' didn't exist, only 'Kai.'

"Whoa," Sarah breathed as they pulled apart, her cheeks flushed. "Maybe those boarding school teachers were just jealous."

Kai let out a short, airy laugh, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. "Most people are. It's a cross I have to bear."

But as the movie credits began to roll and the speakers crackled with the announcement to exit the lot, the magic of the moment began to bleed away. Jo climbed into the driver's seat, catching Kai’s eye in the rearview mirror with a thumbs-up and a wide, encouraging grin.

The drive back to the Parker estate felt like a descent into a cold, dark well. The neon signs of the town faded into the black silhouettes of the Oregon pines. By the time they reached the iron gates of their home, the cherry soda taste was gone, replaced by the familiar, metallic tang of the house's boundary wards.

They snuck inside, their shoes clicking softly on the marble foyer. Kai stopped at the bottom of the grand staircase, looking up at the portraits of his ancestors—powerful men and women who looked down at him with painted, silent judgment.

"See?" Jo whispered, leaning into his space. "You did it, Kai. You were a normal teenager for four hours. You liked it, didn't you?"

Kai looked at her—the golden daughter, the one the Coven would actually fight for—and felt a sudden, sharp spike of loathing that made his stomach turn. He hated that she thought a movie and a kiss could fix the fact that his father had sealed him in the dark.

"Yeah, Jo," Kai said, his voice turning brittle and sharp as he stepped away from her touch. "I’m a regular human being. It was a real riot. I think I’ll go start my collection of participation trophies now."

"Kai, I was just saying—"

"I know what you were saying," he snapped, his eyes flashing with a cold, internal light. "You’re happy because I acted like a person. But I’m still the mistake in the basement, Jo. And all the cherry soda in the world isn't going to change the fact that Dad thinks I'm a void."