Chapter 3

MAYA.

Morning light poured through the window, soft and golden, warming the edge of my blanket, but I felt no warmth.

I hadn’t slept again after I woke up.

The pendant still sat on my nightstand —silent, still, like it hadn’t just lit up a forest in my dreams and burned its shape into my memory. But I couldn’t stop looking at it, it was strangely captivating. Even now, I could feel it humming faintly beneath the surface, like it was waiting for something.

I pulled my sketchpad into my  lap; barely aware I was doing it. My pencil moved before I could think. I didn’t need to imagine —the images were already carved behind my eyelids, like scars.

The stone.

The pendant.

The figure in the woods, robes like smoke underwater.

The silver crescent, glowing brighter than anything else.

I didn’t sketch like this usually, this was new to me. My lines were sharper. Bolder.  The shadows felt deeper too — like they weren’t just there to suggest form, but to warn me of something.

When I finished the figure, I stared at it for a long time.

It looked too real.

Like I was remembering something, not inventing it.

Downstairs, I heard footsteps and the low clatter of plates. It was probably Aunt Emilia. Uncle Eric always left early for work. I hesitated, then tucked the sketchpad under my bed. Something told me not to tell them. Not yet.

I freshened up, got dressed and headed downstairs, heart still heavy from the night before.

The kitchen was quiet. Too quiet.

Aunt Emilia stood at the sink scrubbing a dish that was already clean. Her back was stiff, movements too precise, like she was avoiding turning around. Her hair was pilled back in a tight bun and she hadn’t even touched the coffee steaming in the mug beside her.

“Morning,” I said cautiously.

She didn’t respond right away.

Then, “Morning,” but it sounded like a reflex, not a greeting.

I sat at the table and poured myself a small bowl of cereal, though I had no appetite. The silence stretched. I could feel it—the weight of last night’s conversation still hanging in the air, unspoken but thick as smoke.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, not sure what part I was apologizing for. “I didn’t mean to upset you and Uncle Eric. I just… needed to try something for myself.”

Aunt Emilia finally turned, drying her hands on a towel, her face unreadable.

“I know you think we’re holding something back from you,” she said, her voice calm but tight. “But some things… some things are better left buried, Maya.”

That word—buried—struck something cold inside me.

“So, you are hiding something,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

Her eyes flicked to mine, then quickly away.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Silence hung in the air, with her still not looking at me. She moved past me to the cupboard, but I noticed it then —her hand brushed the chain at her neck, almost instinctively.

And for just a second, I caught a glimpse of something beneath her blouse.

A pendant.

Round. Dark. With a faint silver crescent.

My spoon clattered into the bowl.

She froze.

“What’s that?” I asked, gesturing to her neck, my voice shaking slightly.

She turned too slowly. “Nothing. Just… an old necklace.”

I stared at her. “Where did you get it?”

“Maya.” Her voice was flat now. Not angry. Careful. “Let it go.”

But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

My mind reeled. How long had she had that pendant? Why had she never worn it until now? Was it coincidence that I’d dreamed of it—or had the dream shown me something real?

I stood abruptly. “You said some things were better left buried. Are you talking about my parents?”

Her expression didn’t change, but her silence said everything.

My heart thundered.

“You know something. About them. About me.”

Aunt Emilia looked down, her hands trembling as she clutched the towel like a lifeline.

“I really don’t want to talk about this. Just promise me you won’t go to that school, even if you get accepted.” She whispered. Her eyes pleading with me to understand her and agree.

I stared at her too stunned to speak.

She turned away before I could ask anything else. “Eat your breakfast.”

Then she left the kitchen, and I was alone again.

Except I wasn’t. Not really.

I glanced back toward the stairs —toward my room, the sketchpad under my bed, and the pendant still glowing faintly on my nightstand.

Even now, in daylight, its presence tugged at me. It was like having an unanswered question humming in the back of my mind, a secret vibrating beneath my skin. I didn’t understand what it was, what it meant or how the pendant appeared in my room —but I felt it.

I rose slowly from the kitchen table and walked toward the hallway, keeping my footsteps light. Aunt Emilia’s door was closed now, but I could still feel the tension bleeding from it like smoke through the cracks. That moment in the kitchen… it felt too weird.

I crept back upstairs, my thoughts loud.

Aunt Emilia’s voice held a strange sort of urgency when she told me to promise not to go to the school. I could still hear it in it echoing in my memory.

At the time, I thought it was fear. Fear of change, of me leaving.

But now I wondered… was it fear for me?

Or fear of what I might find?

I sat down on the edge of my bed and picked up the pendant again. It no longer glowed, but it still felt warm, like it had been holding on to energy from the dream—or whatever it had really been.

I opened my laptop and refreshed my inbox for the fifth time that hour.

Still nothing.

The email from Moonridge said they'd respond “soon.” That was it. No date. No timeline. Just soon.

Cruel.

I opened the sketchpad again, flipping through the pages. My hand hovered over the page with the masked figure. I found myself tracing the crescent pendant drawn around its neck.

We both wore it. Me… and whatever that thing was. Or whoever.

I didn’t know if it meant I belonged there—or if it was a warning that I didn’t.

A soft buzz snapped me back to the moment.

My phone.

New email.

My hands went ice cold.

I tapped the screen.

From: Moonridge Academy

Subject: Application Decision – Maya Lennox

Body:

Dear Maya,

We have reviewed your application. You have been selected for an interview.

Further instructions will follow shortly. Please prepare accordingly.

Do not share this message.

Your journey begins at dusk.

I stared at the screen, reading it over and over.

An interview.

My breath caught. It was happening.

My fingers gripped the edge of the phone. I felt the pendant warm slightly, as if it was reacting to the message. Or maybe anticipating what came next.

Aunt Emilia’s voice rang in my ears again— “Promise me you won’t go…”

But I hadn’t promised.

And now it felt like something had already chosen me.

Even if I wanted to walk away, I wasn't sure I could anymore.