Chapter 1 - Nora

Worthless.

Useless.

Garbage.

Weak.

Pathetic.

Unlovable.

These are words that have been beaten into me, literally sometimes, since I was barely old enough to understand what any of them meant. That last one hurt the most, if I’m being honest. As an orphan who grew up in the system from birth, I know all the statistics. I understand that the older I get, the less my chances of finding a family are, and add to that I’m black, and yeah, cut those odds in half. 

Maybe it’s vain of me, but I thought I was a damn cute kid. I was well-behaved and smart. Nothing I did or said during those adoption events changed anything. I was never picked. Even the staff at the orphanage overlooked me. And after I got too old to stay there, I got put into foster homes. And those people, the Beech family, were the monsters. 

Justin and Lela Beech were the kind of foster parents that people make horror movies about. You know the psychological horror where the villains hide in plain sight and no one ever suspects them. The kind of horror movie that either ends with a survivor making it out and stopping them, or that ends with no survivor to tell the truth. They collected foster kids like Pokémon cards. And honestly, it’s not a far-off comparison as they used us for their own ends. 

We were still allowed to go to school, because that could raise red flags with our case workers, but that was it. We didn’t get ot have social lives, not that it mattered much to me since whatever made no one want to adopt me extended into the ability to make friends. At the Beech house, we were their free child labor. Shit, they were being paid to work us to the bone on their farm. They got away with that because it was a ‘family farm’, so everyone was expected to pitch in.  It was mind-numbing and back-breaking work that I suffered through, along with verbal and physical abuse for the last ten years.

It might sound strange to say, but my eighteenth birthday was the best day of my life. The Bitches, I mean, Beechs were no longer going to get paid for me, so I was told to get the fuck out. I’m not over exaggerating here either. Lela threw a bookbag full of my belongings at me while Justin literally said, “Get the fuck out, you worthless piece of garbage.”

I hadn’t expected more than that. I was amazed they even let me take my clothes and book bag. I don’t think it made up for my case worker dropping the ball. Mrs. Kirk must truly hate me for her not to do the bare minimum of her job in preparation for my aging out of the system. I knew extending my foster care was not gonna happen, even if Mrs. Kirk offered or the Bitches, my bad, the Beechs wanted it, I’d say no. I wasn’t going to be their indentured servant any longer. 

Mrs. Kirk didn’t offer me anything regarding my aging out. I had to use the public library computer to apply for the John H. Chafee Program, Medicaid-to-26, and Foster Youth to Independence HUD assistance. Of course, none of it was in place by the time I was tossed out on my ass three weeks ago. Which brings me to the present: sleeping in alleys, using the bathroom in the public library to ghetto bathe, saving as much money as I can from my part-time job waiting tables at the local diner, only eating when I’m at work and get my free meal, avoiding cops, and generally avoiding sketchy people.

I hate working the closing shift. The night manager, Judd, doesn’t let me use the bathroom after closing to change out of my uniform. Walking down city streets in this stupid dress uniform is not my idea of a good, let alone a safe, time. I’ve tried to explain to Judd why I want to change into my usual clothes, citing that it’s unsafe for a young black woman to be walking alone at night, let alone in a dress. He didn’t get it. Men never get it. They’ve never had to fear walking down a city street. 

“Male privilege. And that shitbag has white male privilege, which just makes it worse.” I grumbled, clutching my bag strap.

My spine stiffened as I heard the distinct sound of two… no wait… three men’s footfalls behind me. I didn’t slow my steps. I did speed up, but only a little. I didn’t want them to give chase. I tried to act as calmly and naturally as possible. I was giving them the benefit of the doubt, while still thinking of what I was going to do if they were truly after me and not just happening to be going the same direction. 

Today wasn’t my lucky day, it never is. I took a quick turn to the left, away from the parking lot and the bars that would still be open at this late hour. I thought if they were just heading to their car or moving to their next watering hole, they’d keep walking. But, as said, this was not my lucky day. A few moments after I turned left, I heard their footsteps right behind me. They had sped up, too. So much for the benefit of the doubt. Once again, my lack of faith in humanity is proven valid. 

FUCK! 

This wasn’t good. I wasn’t prepared to fight anyone, let alone three guys. If it were just one, maybe… maybe I’d pull off getting away. I’ve been in my share of fights growing up. After all, when you’re the orphan kid, no one at school liked you, and you got bullied, and bullying meant fights. And it wasn’t even just kids at school. It was other foster kids at the orphanage, and especially at the Beech’s house. So I’m scrappy in a fight, but there’s no way I could take down three guys.

Think, Nora. You know this area. Where can you hide? Or where could you duck into that’s public enough that people might take notice of three guys following a girl? Is there a police station nearby? No… that’s blocks away. No way I’d get there before these guys make their move. 

I was starting to spiral. I could feel the panic building in my chest as I felt it a struggle even to breathe, let alone breathe normally. It didn’t help that I could hear them laughing now. You know the slow, low, and creeptastic kind of laugh.

The one in the middle spoke first, voice dripping with mock charm that made my skin crawl. “Hey, sweetheart, no need to rush. We just wanna talk.”

Yeah. And I’m the fucking tooth fairy.

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t going to engage unless I had to. Instead, I just kept walking faster, eyes scanning, breath shallow, every step louder in my ears than theirs. But then I heard it. Not just behind me anymore, but beside me. One of them had broken off, looping around. They were corralling me.

Panic prickled at the back of my neck like icy fingers. I veered down a side street, hoping to throw them off, but all it did was tighten the noose.

“Aw, come on, baby girl,” another voice called out, closer now. “No need to play hard to get.”

The hairs on my arms rose. I didn’t dare look back. I knew the second I did, it would all fall apart. Then I made the mistake of trying to double back, just for a second. Just to see if I had enough distance to run for real. I didn’t.

The guy who had flanked me earlier stepped out of the shadows ahead, cutting me off with a grin that looked more like a snarl. “Going somewhere?”

I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart was hammering, and the air in my lungs froze. This was not good. Three weeks out of the foster system, three weeks of being an ‘adult’, and this was how it was going to end. I was going to be found, maybe tomorrow during trash pickup, for one of these shops, and labeled as a homeless girl. No one will care that I’m dead, and no one will try to find these pricks to see them brought to justice. Because why would the cops waste time investigating the murder of some worthless homeless girl? 

The footsteps behind me slowed, deliberate and heavy, as the other two closed in. One to the left. One to the right. Blocking every way out.

Well fuck. I’d say I had a good run, but that’d be a lie. I was cornered, and I was going to die with no one to mourn me.

The guy on the left cracked his knuckles. The one behind me chuckled low and dark. The one in front took a step closer, eyes roaming far too slowly for comfort.

Fucking creeps.

“See,” he said, voice dipped in menace, “if you’d just been friendly, we wouldn’t have to do this the hard way.”

My stomach churned. My fingers tightened around my bag strap. Three against one. No room to run. No one to call. I could feel the weight of every decision I’d ever made pressing down on me. And I had exactly two seconds to make the next one.

“This way…” a voice called, it was delicate.

The men didn’t react. It’s like they didn’t or couldn’t hear it. Maybe I was hearing things on the breeze. Except there’s no breeze tonight.

“This way, Nora.” The voice called again, and there was no denying it was real or at least real to me. 

The scumbags still hadn’t reacted, but I heard the voice, and it said my name. It had to be something, even if it was just my mind playing tricks, it was at least something. I didn’t have any better options, so I listened to the voice on the breeze and ducked to the left, only to find one of the men blocking my way.

Well fuck, now what?

“Raise your right hand and say, Flammae sphaera appāre!” the voice instructed.

I wanted to protest, argue, something because that sounded insane, but I didn’t. They were closing in, and for some reason, what the voice was saying felt… right. Like the word deja vu, yet I had never heard, let alone said, those words before.

“Where do you think you’re going, girlie? We haven’t had our fun.” The man blocking my way smiled, and I wanted to throw up.

I raised my hand, and the men laughed, likely thinking I thought it would stop them. I didn’t know what I thought I was doing, but I was going to trust the voice.

“Flammae sphaera appāre!” I shouted, and well, to the shock of all involved, a blue ball of flames shot out of my hand and set the bastard’s hair on fire!

“AHHHHH!!!!” He screamed in pain, panicking as he tried to swat his head like he was Joe Pesci in Home Alone.

The other two rushed to their friend, panicking just as badly. It’s like they never saw someone shoot a fucking FIREBALL from their hand before. Okay, in all fairness, I’d never see it outside of cartoons. But still fire basics: Stop, Drop, and ROLL. Did they get that basic instruction?

“Run, Nora,” the voice commanded

Oh right. I needed to get the fuck out of here. No time to gawk at the asshole running around with his hair literally on fire. I took advantage of their distraction and ran past them, following the call of the voice. It continued to instruct me with each turn. As I took the last turn, the voice told me to, I skidded to a stop and blinked. I rubbed my eyes because there was no way in hell what I was seeing was real.

Ahead of me, where there should’ve been more alley, maybe a warehouse or some busted old fence, was something else entirely.

Grass.

Not just a patch of it or a crumbling city park, but a massive, rolling stretch of lush green lawn—so bright, so vivid it looked like someone had cranked the saturation all the way up. It shimmered faintly under the moonlight, untouched by trash or concrete or the stink of car exhaust. Smooth stone paths curved through it in perfect symmetry, flanked by glowing lampposts that weren’t connected to any power grid I’d ever seen.

And in the distance, rising like a shadow from some long-forgotten storybook, was a castle.

Not a modern mansion or some cosplay-looking thing. No, this was the real deal. Towering black stone walls, sharp spires that pierced the sky, and windows etched with glowing symbols I didn’t recognize. The air around it felt thicker, like it carried weight, like it knew it didn’t belong here, and didn’t care.

Behind me, the familiar world still stood exactly as it should’ve.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw the alley I’d just sprinted through, the cracked pavement, the garbage bags stacked by the curb, the busted streetlight buzzing like it always did. The distant sound of a car horn. A siren. A drunk was shouting something I couldn’t make out. It was all still there.

And yet, just ten feet ahead… it wasn’t.

The sharp voice of one of the men echoed down the alley.

“There she is!”

“You can’t hide in that old dump!”

I turned back toward the impossible scene.

“You’re almost there,” the voice whispered again, clearer now. “You’ll be safe at the castle. That’s where your future begins.”

I didn’t question it, because everything I’d known, everything that had ever hurt me, broken me, used me was behind me. And maybe, just maybe… everything ahead was mine. I stepped forward.