Sightseeing

Lila’s POV

By the time I’d finished my coffee and devoured the last buttery bite of croissant, Victoria, Emma, and Ramil appeared downstairs, all three buzzing with energy and excitement for the day ahead.

Ramil had already mapped out a bus route to the old church our supposed “cult ruin” adventure for just a couple of bucks. Letting him take the lead, the three of us girls followed closely behind as we left the comfort of the hostel for the misty, cobbled streets of Lenweil.

“Emma, come on,” Victoria groaned, nudging her with a grin. “Even you have to admit that hike yesterday was not worth it.”

Emma rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Fine, I’ll concede. That waterfall was pathetic. It was basically a garden hose on a rock.”

She sped up to catch Ramil, and I fell into step beside Victoria, both of us smiling as we watched them.

“Don’t say anything,” Victoria murmured, leaning close to me, “but she totally likes him. Hell, the last three cities we’ve been to, it’s been mutual.”

“They do look cute together,” I said, unable to hide the fond smile tugging at my lips.

Ramil was undeniably handsome with tanned skin, a lean athletic build, neat black hair, and that kind of quiet confidence that made him stand out. His dark almond eyes crinkled when he smiled, and that smile? Dangerous. But Emma matched him, in her own striking way tall, with fiery auburn hair that flared against her pale skin, and long, toned limbs that hinted at her love of the outdoors.

“So, where are you heading after Lenweil?” Victoria asked as we rounded the corner toward the bus stop.

“Not sure yet,” I replied, adjusting the strap of my bag. “I was planning to stay here at least three months.”

“That’s a shame,” she said, kicking a loose stone on the path. “I would've invited you to come with us. Gets kind of lonely being the third wheel.”

“You’ll meet someone,” I told her softly. “And until then, you’ve got me.”

We reached the bus stop where Emma and Ramil were already waiting. I pulled out my phone. “Okay, everyone get together. I need more pictures for the group chat. Say ‘Cults!’”

They laughed, grouping in tight as I snapped the photo. It was a good one everyone smiling, cheeks flushed from the walk.

The bus rolled up within minutes. I hung back to let the others board and scanned the area absently and that’s when I saw him. A man. Massive. Easily over six foot five and built like a wall, dressed in dark cargo pants and a black bomber jacket. Not exactly local. He stood across the street, staring directly at me. His phone lifted. A click. A blink. Gone.

“Come on, Lila!” Victoria called, tugging my arm. I boarded quickly, fumbling for coins as my heart raced. By the time I reached the window seat and turned to look back—

Nothing. He’d vanished. No sign of him anywhere.

I slumped against the seat, breath catching. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe just a tourist… right?

Still, something about it didn’t sit right.

The bus rattled along, taking us out of the historic town and toward the countryside. Emma and Ramil chatted quietly across the aisle, their knees nearly touching, their voices lowered to a soft murmur. Victoria sat near the back, scrolling through her phone, her earbud half dangling from her jacket.

Now I understood what she meant about being a third wheel. Being around a budding couple when you were the odd one out felt a little like watching someone else’s inside joke unfold. Sweet. But isolating.

I took out my phone and checked again. Still no messages from Maggie or Thea.

I frowned, opening my email app.

Hey guys,

Just checking in. How’s college life? I want to hear all about it—classes, dorms, everything.

Miss you both.

Lila x

I hesitated, rereading it twice before hitting send. We’d been best friends since we were ten. I’d never imagined a time they’d pull away. And yet… here we were.

I shoved the ache aside and looked out the window, forcing myself to focus on the scenery instead.

And what a view it was. Lenweil looked like something out of a fairytale. The streets gave way to winding country roads, framed by rolling green hills and pastures dotted with lazy sheep. Bright window boxes bloomed even on the smallest stone cottages, and ivy clung to every second fence. I snapped pictures as we passed them, not just for my family, but to remind myself later that magic wasn’t just in dreams it was out here too.

“This is us,” Ramil called, pressing the stop button.

The bus slowed, letting us off near what could only be described as nowhere. There were no other buildings around, just a dirt track leading uphill and a thick line of trees framing the path.

“Uh, Ramil?” Victoria said, eyeing the open fields. “Where exactly are we?”

He grinned. “Relax. It’s just a short hike. Ten minutes, max.”

Emma beamed. Victoria and I exchanged a look of shared horror.

Still, we followed. And true to his word, the trail was brief. Within minutes, we crested the hill and there it was.

The church.

Old. Weather-worn. Surrounded by a low moss-covered stone fence. The temperature seemed to drop the moment we approached the gate.

The building itself was squat and square, built of darkened stone, its high-pitched roof crowned by a crumbling steeple. The narrow windows had no glass, just empty slits to let the light through. And the door thick, wooden, arched looked like it belonged to another century entirely.

An elderly couple stood by the gate, both smiling as we approached.

“Hello! Are you from the Witches Hat?” the woman called out warmly.

“We are,” Ramil stepped forward, always the diplomat. “I’m Ramil, and these are my friends Emma, Victoria, and Lila. She’s Moira’s niece.”

“Lovely!” the woman beamed. “I’m Iris, and this is my husband, Ron.”

Ron stepped forward, his handshake firm. “Always nice to see young people taking an interest in local history.”

“But before we let you in, just a couple of housekeeping rules,” Iris added. “Feel free to take as many photos as you like, but please don’t touch anything. The church is very old, and some parts are off-limits for safety reasons.”

We all nodded.

“One more thing,” Ron said, pulling out what looked like an old-fashioned metal detector. “Bit strange, I know but we like to scan visitors before they go inside. Protocol.”

One by one, we were scanned. The device buzzed faintly over Ramil and Emma, gave a little chirp over Victoria. Then he reached me.

The tone was different. Sharper. A quick flicker of sound, like static. Ron’s brow furrowed. Just for a second. His eyes met mine confused. Maybe a little unnerved.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“No, no,” he said too quickly. “Just need to speak with my wife for a moment. On you go, Lila. The others are already inside.”

I nodded, but something about his reaction made my skin prickle. Still, I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside into silence, cool air, and stone walls that seemed to hum with forgotten secrets.

Something about this place felt... different. And I wasn’t sure yet if it was a good thing.

Third Person

Ron waited until the group was well inside the church, the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind the last of them with a deep, echoing thud. Their laughter and footfalls quickly faded beyond the stone walls. Only silence remained in the churchyard thick and charged with something he couldn’t name.

He exhaled slowly, his breath curling in the cool morning air.

“Iris!” he called in a low, urgent voice, clutching the wand-shaped scanner in one hand. “Come here. Look at this bloody thing.”

From behind a half-collapsed gravestone, Iris emerged, brushing dirt from her palms. “What is it now? Did the battery go flat again?”

“No,” Ron muttered, holding the wand out toward her like it was contaminated. “It picked up something. A reading. From the girl.”

Iris blinked. “What girl?”

“Moira’s niece. Lila.”

At that, Iris’s expression shifted. She stepped forward quickly, snatching the wand from his hand and tilting it toward the light. The small, enchanted dial at its center was still pulsing faintly, yes, but unmistakably.

“Hmm,” she murmured, tapping the side of the device. “Not a full-blood, but there’s a trace. Enough to trigger the scan.”

Ron crossed his arms, anxiety prickling along the back of his neck. “You think she’s a latent? Or maybe hiding something?”

“No,” Iris said, but the certainty in her voice was already wavering. “No, not a supernatural not herself. But she’s been close to one. Very close. Recently.”

Her brows pinched together as she studied the device again, then glanced over her shoulder toward the church, where muffled voices echoed faintly within the thick stone.

“Should I follow them?” Ron asked, already half-turning toward the door.

“No,” Iris said firmly, her tone shifting. “You give them the official tour. Keep it breezy. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“And you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“I’m going downstairs,” Iris replied, her voice quieter now, almost reverent. She turned, cradling the wand like it was something ancient and sacred. “If this is real, if she’s been marked it might show up below.”

Ron’s throat tightened. His eyes drifted toward the far end of the churchyard, where the ivy-covered fence curled around a crooked oak. Beyond that, hidden behind the stones and overgrown roots, lay the concealed hatch that led to the basement.

“Iris,” he called, stopping her. “You shouldn’t go down there alone.”

She paused, but didn’t turn back. “I’ve gone down there hundreds of times.”

“Not since the last reading.”

That made her pause. For a moment, she stood still, the wand gripped tight in her weathered hands. Then she gave a soft sigh. “That was nothing. A false alarm.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she said gently. “But this?” Her fingers tapped the wand once more, its tiny dial glowing pale blue against the morning light. “This is something.”

She didn’t wait for more protest. Iris moved through the long grass toward the tree line with practiced stealth, disappearing from view. Ron watched her until even the rustling of her steps vanished into stillness.

He turned back toward the church and straightened his shoulders. He had guests to distract. And a story to tell.