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POV Claire
My phone trembled in my hands.
We were all smiling.
As if nothing could touch us.
As if that moment wasn't already slipping away.
The death of Avery's father hadn't just taken a man.
It had fractured us.
Avery had shut herself off.
Jackson had pulled away.
Calvin had lost himself.
And me… I had tried to stay standing.
But that night…
We hurt each other. Really hurt each other.
And no one stayed to fix us.
My throat burned.
He had been more of a father to me than the one I shared blood with.
The other one… always on their side.
Never on mine.
My hand rose to the necklace.
The feather, cold against my skin.
A symbol of freedom that had taught me confinement.
I had obeyed.
Again.
Always.
And it had never been enough.
A dull pain pulsed in my wrist.
I looked down.
The mark had faded.
But the feeling…
Like something was gently pulling… from the inside.
I looked back at my phone and realized I would never understand what was happening if I kept submitting to their hypocrisy.
I stood up and walked toward the study.
That was where the old family books were kept—if they could even be called that.
If no one wanted to give me answers, then I would find them myself. And this place was perfect for anything that touched on the strange.
I stepped inside.
The study hadn't changed.
Same scent of old paper.
Same heavy silence.
A silence that wasn't empty.
A silence that listened.
I quietly closed the door behind me.
The shelves stretched all the way to the ceiling, filled with dark bindings, faded titles, symbols I recognized without understanding.
I had grown up here.
Surrounded by secrets I wasn't allowed to read.
My hand trembled slightly as I pulled out the first book.
Dust.
Yellowed pages.
Nothing.
The second spoke of ancient bloodlines.
The third of protective rituals.
Always to prevent.
To block.
To seal.
To control.
Like me.
I put it back more abruptly than I intended.
The necklace turned icy against my skin.
I froze.
My gaze fell on a book I had never seen before.
Wedged behind the others.
As if it had been hidden.
Its cover had no title.
Black.
Smooth.
Almost warm beneath my fingers.
A shiver ran down my spine.
I opened it.
The pages weren't written in ink.
The symbols seemed… embedded in the paper.
Like scars.
And at the center of one page—
A drawing.
Two interlocking circles.
Connected by a thin line.
At the point where they met—
A mark.
Shaped like a spider.
My breath caught.
My hand instinctively went to my wrist.
It was the same.
Suddenly, a low buzzing filled my ears.
The letters beneath the symbol began to sharpen before my eyes.
Not because I was reading.
Because something inside me already understood.
> Involuntary Soul Bond — Formed through a violent emotional trigger.
Risk: energetic propagation.
Consequence: shared perception… and shared damage.
My stomach tightened.
Damage?
The necklace suddenly burned.
Not heat.
A brutal cold, intensifying as I read the page.
I was so absorbed that I didn't hear my mother calling me.
It was the sound at my wrist that snapped me back to reality.
Before she could open the door, I rushed to put the book back in its place.
"Finally, there you are—we've been looking for you."
"Here I am," I said, as if nothing had happened. "What are you doing here?"
"Nothing."
She noticed the necklace around my neck.
Sadness flickered in her eyes.
Then she said:
"It's time."
I didn't protest.
I followed her.
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