The scorch mark on Mira's carpet didn't fade.
She stared at it all morning, testing it with her fingers, a wet towel, even a knife to see if it was just surface burn. It wasn't. The spiral had melted into the fibers, like it had been etched by lightning.
And somehow, she wasn't freaking out.
She should have been. But she felt… calm. Clear.
It scared her more than anything else.
Mira skipped breakfast. Her mom was still out probably working overtime at the hospital again and the house was silent except for the humming in Mira's bones.
She couldn't stay inside.
Her instincts, sharper than ever, tugged her out the door.
The clouds above Ravenshade were darker than usual. Not stormy. Not natural. Just off, as if they were being held in place by invisible strings.
The wind shifted the moment Mira stepped outside, and her fingers began to tingle.
She hadn't told Zeke about the closet. Or the hand. Or the memory that didn't belong to her.
Because something inside her whispered not to. Not yet.
She walked.
Past the locked school gates. Past the shuttered windows. Toward the part of town where normal ended.
The tracks.
They always led her somewhere.
But today, she didn't stop there. The hum pulled her farther, through an overgrown path behind the train yard, where trees bent inward like they were listening.
And then she saw her.
A girl stood alone in the clearing.
She looked no older than Mira, dressed in a grey jacket and boots caked in dried mud. Her black curls were tangled, and her face was pale like porcelain, but her eyes…
They were glowing.
Pale gold, like sun through stained glass.
The girl turned as if she'd sensed Mira long before she arrived. "You're awake."
Mira froze. "Do I know you?"
"No. But you will." The girl's voice was calm. Too calm. "They call me Renna."
Mira narrowed her eyes. "Who's 'they'?"
Renna didn't answer. Instead, she held out her hand, and blue sparks danced across her skin. Not wild, like Mira's. Controlled.
"You're like me," Mira whispered.
"Not quite," Renna replied. "But close enough."
The air between them shifted, suddenly heavy. Renna tilted her head. "Tell me. Did you burn the spiral willingly, or did it mark you on its own?"
"I didn't burn it," Mira said slowly. "It just… happened."
Renna frowned. "Then it's begun."
"What's begun?"
The girl stepped forward. "The Rift is stirring. That symbol, it's not just a gate. It's a keyhole. Something on the other side wants in."
Mira's blood turned cold.
"You're part of it now," Renna said. "Chosen or not. The Rift remembers its own."
Mira wanted to ask more, but the sky thundered suddenly, loud and sharp. The wind howled.
And Renna flinched.
"No," she whispered. "Not yet. I'm not ready."
"Wait—what's happening?" Mira asked, stepping toward her.
But the girl was already backing away, her eyes wide. "They found me. You need to run."
"Who?"
Renna didn't answer.
Because the trees around them began to bend. Their trunks creaked, groaned and then cracked as something large moved between them. Something unseen but real enough to send birds shrieking into the sky.
The air shimmered.
And a shape appeared.
Not a full form, more like a suggestion of one. A distortion, like heat rising off pavement, except darker. Heavier.
It had eyes. Red. Sharp.
Renna screamed, not in fear, but in fury. "I told you I wasn't ready!"
She raised her hands, and lightning danced through her veins.
The thing roared. Not with sound, but with force.
And Renna vanished, swallowed by the shimmer as if pulled into another layer of the world.
Mira barely had time to react.
The distorted shape turned its red eyes on her.
She didn't think.
Her hands moved, reflex, instinct, and blue light burst from her fingertips. Wild. Raw. Beautiful.
The air cracked.
And the creature recoiled.
Just for a second.
It was enough.
Mira ran.
She didn't stop until she was deep into the suburbs, lungs burning, adrenaline crashing in waves. She collapsed behind an old bus shelter, gasping, shaking.
Her palms were still glowing.
Blue, like Renna's.
But not controlled.
Not yet.
She thought of the girl's words: The Rift remembers its own.
Whatever that meant, Mira was certain of one thing.
The Rift had marked her.
And the other side was no longer waiting.
It was coming.