It was almost 3 a.m., and Aralyn was tossing and turning in her bed. The glow had long since faded, yet it was still burning her up slowly from the inside. The urge to walk right into the room pulled at her gut every once in a while, driving her curiosity to the brink. Aralyn stared at the ceiling.
It had crossed her mind more than once. Why do they keep falling?
Aralyn grabbed her phone and immediately began searching the web. The light from the screen flooded her dim room.
"Meteor showers were seen across the nation," she mumbled, reading through the articles. Her heart picked up speed every time she came across more and more sightings.
If things kept going like this, there would be no doubt–a war between covens would rise, each fighting to claim the most powerful celestial among them.
Aralyn locked her phone and exhaled slowly as she turned onto her side.
She didn't know who to pray to. A creature like her–an abomination–had no place in His eyes and definitely no reason to ask for help.
And yet, sometimes, she did. The safety of the people in Dewhurst mattered more to her than she had ever realized. She couldn't bear to see them tangled in the mess she had brought everywhere she went.
-
The next morning, Aralyn woke up early.
She had her coffee and a simple breakfast she had baked–a maple pecan pastry and cream puffs. She wrapped a few of them carefully in a paper bag, along with a water bottle for her walk to the beach later.
"But I don't even know which way the beach is," she grumbled under her breath as she made her way to the door. She wore a turtleneck that day, with her jacket on, and opened the door… with a shriek.
"Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with you, Scarf!?"
Aralyn clutched her chest, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart as she took a few steady breaths.
"Noah? What're you doing here?" she asked, exasperated, glancing around. He was alone.
"I figured since you asked about the beach yesterday, why not go there together?" he said with a grin.
There it was. That same boyish grin that sent a strange shiver down her spine. She didn't know whether she liked it or hated it. "Which part of 'you shouldn't be involved in my business' did you not understand?" she asked, her gaze hardening as she stared at him.
Aralyn pushed the door to close, but Noah placed his palm flat against it, stopping her. That was when she noticed he looked disheveled like he didn't get enough sleep. His jaw was clenched.
"You said your piece, but you never let me talk. You hurt me, Scarf." He gave her a small smile.
Aralyn looked away, trying to ignore the flicker of pain in his eyes.
"I already know about you… and the Ashwood twins. You were right about one thing though; I shouldn't be involved. We just met, Scarf, but one thing you should know about the Brooks," he paused, eyes glinting with something fierce, "we're stubborn as the seven hells in the realms."
Aralyn was taken aback by the sheer determination in his voice.
"So, like it or not, I'm gonna help you… whatever it is you're doing. You don't get to push me away that easily," he added with a smile, that dimple of his making the whole thing even more dangerous.
She stared at him for a long moment before sighing in defeat and opening the door wider to let him in. He walked in like he owned the place.
"So, are you ready?" he asked.
"All set," she replied, grabbing a small blue sling bag.
Noah sniffed the air.
"Smells good. You bake?" he asked, raising a brow.
She only nodded.
He looked around, then raised a finger. "I've been meaning to ask–everyone around here has at least a dozen mirrors in their house. Why don't you?"
Aralyn walked past him and onto the porch.
"I don't feel like it," she said simply. Her keys jingled between her fingers as she waited for Noah. She locked the door after he stepped out.
"Damn, I've been meeting a real abnegation this whole time," he teased as he walked to his car, unlocking it and climbing in.
Aralyn slid into the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt.
"What's an abnegation?" she asked.
Noah started the ignition and waited a few minutes for the car to warm up. He looked over at her, horror written all over his face.
"You don't know? That's a crime," he said with a huff.
He then drove them out of Dewhurst and toward the coast.
"It sounds like a bad thing," Aralyn said.
"It's like a superhero. But very selfless, kind of annoying sometimes. We have to have at least one movie date together," he said casually, eyes on the road, though he could feel the tension radiating off her.
"We are not on a date," she replied coldly, watching the scenery pass by the window.
"Don't think of it as a date! More like, uh," He trailed off, searching for the right words. "The start of our friendship."
Aralyn scoffed, a smile tugging at her lips–more mockery than amusement. "Friendship? Is that what we are now?"
"Ouch. Gee, Scarf, you don't have to be so mean about it," he said with a grimace, stealing a glance at her. Her eyes clouded for two seconds before she schooled her expression.
"You know," he said, leaning back in his seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting against the window, his temple pressed lightly against it, "the way you said it tells me a lot about you."
"Oh? And what, pray tell, does that inform you about me?" she asked without looking at him.
He let out a deep sigh.
"We all experience it at some point, Scarf. Yours isn't that different in the grand scheme of things," he said gravely.
"I'm sure the 'grand scheme' you're speaking of would understand the burden of a creature who has witnessed horrifying things for decades," she replied in a low, even tone.
The coldness in her voice made Noah shudder.
What kind of life did this woman live to make him feel so small all of a sudden?
"What are you, Scarf? Why do you call yourself something so… self-deprecating?" he asked, hoping she would answer.
But he already knew she wouldn't.
The car fell into silence–heavy and still. Aralyn remained quiet. Noah, unable to keep his mouth shut, spoke again. "Guess that's for another day. Got it. So, what's with your no-mirror policy?"
"I told you. I don't feel like keeping mirrors."
"Not even one?"
"No."
"But I have mirrors right now. In my car," he gestured to the rearview mirror. "Does it bother you?"
"No."
"I am so tired of this one-syllable thing." He groaned.
"Then stop asking me questions."
He snapped his fingers, eyes lighting up. "I get it now!"
Aralyn raised a brow, finally looking at him across the seat.
"I read somewhere when I was on the road with my band, some conspiracy theorist kept going on about mirrors. Said if you stare into one too long, your soul gets trapped forever," he recalled. "Is that it? That's why you don't keep mirrors?"
Aralyn looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Yes and no."
Noah's shoulders slumped. "Again with the two-option answers. Might as well give me the third one–'It Depends.'"
Aralyn unexpectedly cracked up, a small, soundless laugh escaping her lips. Noah's heart practically stopped for a second. He slowly turned his head, disbelief written all over his face, a serious expression plastered there. "So you can laugh."
"I'm sorry. That was so bad," she said, not looking at him.
Noah allowed himself a small smile as he focused back on the road. That was a good start. Keep going with the dad jokes. "Five minutes and we'll be there," he said.
Aralyn suddenly sniffed. Something old and sweet lingered in the air inside the car.
"What're you doing that for?" he asked, incredulous. She couldn't stop herself from doing it again.
"Please, for the love of God, tell me you don't have powers like dogs–sniffing things around," he said.
Aralyn shook her head quickly. "No! I'm sorry. I just… smelled something."
They were nearing the beach now. The vast ocean stretched before them, shimmering under the scorching sun. "Huh. That's what you did last night too. What did you smell this time?" he asked as he parked the car.
Aralyn followed the scent, leading herself to the glove compartment. She pulled it open. Inside lay a small pillow.
Noah quickly shut it. "Nope! Nothing there," he said, getting out of the car.
Aralyn followed.
"What was that, Noah?" she asked, jogging to keep up with him. He appeared taller somehow, his muscles taut beneath his fitted shirt as he refused to answer.
"Noah, please tell me," she tried again.
"Why would I? You refuse to answer my questions," he shot back, glancing at her over his shoulder.
Aralyn flinched and fell silent.
Noah glanced at her again and exhaled. His weakness–making a woman go quiet. He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets.
"That was my mom's. Originally, it was an old handkerchief of hers," he started, kicking the sand under his shoes. "I sewed it into a pillow. Safer that way."
Aralyn nearly stopped walking. She hadn't realized how gentle Noah could sound when he spoke about his mother. Their arms brushed, and Noah fought the urge to move closer.
"Huh," was all she managed.
"That's all? 'Huh'?" he snapped.
He didn't know why it irritated him so easily.
"The way you talk about her, I know she's gone, Noah," Aralyn said slowly. "And I know you were very close."
"You don't know anything about me, Scarf," he said through gritted teeth, eyes fixed ahead on the ocean.
"I don't," she admitted. "But you turned her handkerchief into a pillow. You got upset when I didn't ask more. You loved her very much, didn't you?"
Noah lowered his head. How easily she saw through him when no one else ever seemed to care. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat.
"I could smell it. Not like dogs," Aralyn said as they neared the shore. "It was sweet… and old."
"My mom?" Aralyn nodded. "So can you smell me?" he asked, opening his arms.
Aralyn shook her head. "No. Not like that."
Noah frowned. "Then why did you make that face when I came last night?"
Aralyn turned away, her back facing him.
"You…"
"I'm what, Scarf?"
She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"You reek of lust," she said quietly. "It's suffocating."
Noah blinked. "Lust? But I didn't have sex when I came back! Wait, are you a vampire? Is that why you can sniff me around?"
Aralyn closed her eyes in annoyance. "Lust is not only in the form of intercourse. It's in the way you think about it–and it leaks out of you. And no, I'm not a vampire."
Noah paused, thinking. He had been with Clara, but they didn't–oh.
"Oh," he finally said. Embarrassment rushed to his face as he looked away, clearing his throat. He had harbored those thoughts when they kissed. It almost led somewhere.
"So what if I had sex? Would it have a stronger smell too?" he asked, turning back.
Aralyn didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the foam of the waves.
"Scarf?"
She didn't hear him.
Noah followed her gaze. Confusion slowly crept across his face as he stared at the sea. Something about the waves felt wrong. His lips parted slightly, the taste of salt heavy on his tongue.
"Man, that's salty as hell," he muttered.
The rumble of his stomach broke the moment, catching Aralyn's attention as she turned to him. He gave her a sheepish smile.
"I didn't have breakfast. I kinda just went straight to your house when I woke up."
Aralyn blinked, surprised. "So you didn't shower?"
"I did! Of course I did! Ew, who wouldn't?" he said defensively. (He did. Sort of. More like fighting with the soap than actually bathing.)
"Whatever you say. Something is definitely wrong here," she said, scanning their surroundings.
Noah glanced at her neck. Even beneath the thick turtleneck, the marks were pulsing stronger now. "Uh, Scarf? They're glowing," he said, nodding toward her neck.
Aralyn's hand flew to it instinctively. "Something is coming," she murmured, eyes fixed on the sea. "But I don't know what it–"
Her words died.
Something moved between the boulders a hundred feet away.
A flash of silver beneath the waves.
A shimmer.
Aralyn gasped.
"What? What is it?" Noah asked, scanning wildly. She pointed. He followed her line of sight and froze.
Someone–no. Something was waving at them. "Am I tripping?" he breathed.
Aralyn didn't answer. She walked past him, breaking into a jog toward the rocks.
"Wait! Scarf! We don't know if that's safe!"
Her pace slowed as the boulders loomed. She stepped carefully between them.
"Scarf, please talk to me," Noah urged, catching up.
"I don't think she's dangerous."
"It's a she now? You're seeing what I'm seeing, right? That thing is a freaking mer–"
They both stopped. Color drained from their faces.
There, where the water lapped at the rocks, lay a creature pulled from myth.
Her hair, silver-blue, cascaded to her waist, tangled with pearls, seashells, and strands of seaweed. Amethyst scales shimmered along her tail, catching the sunlight like fractured glass. Her eyes; deep turquoise, held a sorrow so heavy it pressed against the air itself.
"Please, Chosen, help me."
Her voice was melodic, haunting and aching. It made both of them flinch. Aralyn tilted her head slightly, recognition flickering.
"Wait, was it you? Calling out to me weeks ago?" she asked.
"Yes," the mermaid replied softly. "It was me. Please, Chosen. Humans have taken what I cherish most."
Aralyn stepped forward, gathering her courage, and sat on a nearby rock. "What did you lose?"
The mermaid removed a pearl from her hair and gently took Aralyn's hand. Aralyn nearly shuddered at the slick, cold touch.
"It's my family's heirloom," the mermaid said, her voice laced with grief. Aralyn leaned closer.
The design was intricate; floral, delicate. And familiar. She had seen it before somewhere, but her mind refused to grasp where.
Noah cautiously sat beside her, his eyes fixed warily on the creature.
"Scarf, how sure are you that this mermaid isn't lying to us?" he whispered. But the mermaid caught his tone.
"My name is Phoebe, and I cannot lie to you. Nor does my kind even if we wish to," she said.
"If it's a family heirloom, you shouldn't be losing it that easily," Noah pointed out. Phoebe looked away.
"I was hiding from them, and the pearl–I don't know how it fell from my hair," she said, her eyes turning glassy as she looked up. "Please help me, Chosen."
"How do you know me?" Aralyn asked, her voice tight.
The fear of being known had been carved deep into her after escaping her coven. An encounter like this, it was terrifying.
"The story of the Chosen One has been passed down for generations among my people," Phoebe said, placing her slick hand gently over Aralyn's. "We know why the strongest witch of all time chose to leave."
Aralyn stiffened.
So did Noah.
"A… witch?" Noah asked slowly, pointing his thumb at Aralyn.
Phoebe nodded. "She is the only one who could hear my calls without the use of reflection. Other witches would need reflection to make contact with us," she explained.
"Reflection? You mean… a mirror?" he asked.
"Precisely. Any reflection would do." Phoebe turned back to Aralyn. "Please help me, Chosen. Without the pearl, she will become very sick."
Aralyn's gaze drifted toward the sea.
"She… the sea?"
"Exactly. She gifted my family the pearl as a sign of gratitude–for saving her from the toxicity of humans. Its power is to cleanse anything not born from the sea. One cannot exist without the other," Phoebe said, gesturing to the pearl in Aralyn's palm. "She is growing weaker. Without it, the sea will fall… and so will your world."
Aralyn's thoughts drifted back to the twins. "Is that why everything has become too salty, Phoebe?"
Phoebe nodded. "Yes. Help me find it. I trust you will keep this," she said, nodding toward the pearl, "to guide you in recognizing it."
And then, Phoebe dove beneath the waves. Gone.
"Wait! Phoebe!" Aralyn stood, calling after her. But the sea swallowed her whole.
"Wow, that's… a lot," Noah muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I understand if you don't want to help me. We should go back. I'll figure out how to retrieve it myself," Aralyn said, already turning away, slipping the pearl carefully into her jacket pocket.
But suddenly her arm was seized. Noah pulled her back, forcing her to face him.
"I told you already, you don't get to push me away, Scarf," he said. "I'm missing a lot of pieces here, yeah. But that can wait. I want to help."
"You heard what she said. I'm a witch, Noah," she said, her voice trembling as her face twisted with anguish. Still, she didn't break eye contact. "That alone should be enough for you to stay away from me. I'm dangerous. Don't you get it?"
"Hey. Look at me."
He grabbed her arms, turning her fully toward him. His hands slid upward, cupping her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Do I look unsure to you?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked.
"Just answer me, Aralyn. Do I look unsure to you?"
His tone left no room for argument.
And hearing him say her name for the first time sent something crashing through her chest. She shook her head.
"Do I look scared?"
"You should be," she answered defiantly.
"Aralyn. Yes or no?"
Aralyn swallowed. "No." Noah looked deeply into her eyes, his thumb grazing her cheek lightly.
"Witch or not, I'm still going to help. We're in this together," he said, his voice softening.
"Since when do you make the call? And since when is there a 'we'?"
He grinned. "Since those twins said things were too salty. So no pushing me away, alright?"
Aralyn turned the thought over and over in her mind. Pushing him away had always been the safest choice. The only choice.
But seeing him this determined, it extinguished whatever fire she had left to argue. She gave him a resigned nod.
Noah's smile broke into quiet victory as he stepped back. Then his stomach growled again. Louder this time.
"Fuck, I need to eat. Ever had peach cobbler?"
"No."
"You're not allergic to anything, right? Mine's peanuts."
"No."
"Good. My treat. Let's go," he said, though he pressed a hand to his stomach, trying to ease the ache building there.
They walked back to the car and climbed in. As Noah started the engine, Aralyn pulled out a paper bag and a bottle of water, handing them to him.
"What's this?" he asked, peering inside.
"Eat something. Even just a little. For your stomach," Aralyn said softly, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
Noah looked at her like she'd just handed him the world, flashing that dimpled smile.
"An abnegation witch who cares about my well-being," he teased, pulling out a maple pecan pastry.
But Aralyn caught his hand.
"What's wrong?"
"Wait. You said you're allergic to peanuts. Not that one," she said, taking it from him and nodding toward the bag. Noah dug back in, pulling out a cream puff instead. He shot her a sideways glance.
"Thank you, Scarf."
Aralyn nodded, watching as he ate. Deep down, a quiet unease settled in her chest. She couldn't stop wondering; what this thing between them would cost her in the end.