❄️Aurora❄️
Aurora
❄️🐻❄️❄️🐻❄️❄️🐻❄️❄️🐻❄️❄️🐻❄️
Aurora sat on the edge of her bed, the morning light seeping through the thin curtains and stinging her tired eyes. Sleep had been elusive, slipping through her grasp like grains of sand no matter how many times she shifted beneath the worn quilt. She wasn’t surprised. Dread had been her constant companion these past three months, ever since her aunt sat her down with that cold, matter-of-fact expression to tell her she was being sold-as if she were nothing more than a parcel-to one of them.
A flash of glowing red eyes pierced her thoughts, sending a shiver down her spine. Her arms instinctively wrapped around her middle, trying to hold herself together. How was she supposed to live among them, let alone marry one? Just the thought twisted her stomach into knots. Beasts. That’s what they were. Monsters hiding beneath human skin.
A single tear slipped free. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, jaw tightening. Crying was no use now. There was no escaping this. No miracle saviour waiting to whisk her away like in a fairy-tale.
Her parents-her rebellious, free-spirited parents-had died in neutral territory when she was ten, victims of a rogue shifter attack that haunted her dreams with crimson eyes and snarling teeth. She thought things couldn’t get worse after that. Oh, how wrong she was.
As her only living relatives she'd been placed with the Harris's, her mothers elder sisters family. Though, no one here has ever seen me as family, she thought bitterly. Not Uncle Maxwell, whose temper was as brutish as his fists. Not Aunt Cynthia, whose cold indifference cut deeper than anger. And Harvey…her chest constricted. Best not to go there. Thinking about her cousin only made bile rise in her throat and her right shoulder blade ache.
For years she endured it—kept her head down, swallowed the barbs, weathered the blows, always telling herself she just had to make it to eighteen. That once she had her inheritance, she could finally leave.
Then, three months ago, Aurora Beaumont discovered her inheritance was gone—vanished into the void of her Uncle Maxwell’s reckless business failures. One bad investment after another, until the account meant to secure her future was bled dry. When she dared to confront him—when she insisted he had no right to touch what was hers—she didn’t just receive harsh words. Her legs still remembered the sting, the bruising silence of punishment. Sent to bed without dinner like a wayward child, humiliated and powerless, she realized that the only thing she'd ever truly owned had been stolen.
That inheritance had been her lifeline. Her escape. Her new beginning. And now, it was gone.
She’d felt defeated—utterly broken, trapped in a cage she couldn’t see a way out of.
It was well into the early hours of that same day, after she’d been sent to her room, when the hatch creaked open. Her aunt had appeared, holding a picture which shook her to the core. Three items, precious last memento's of her parents presented to her like trophies of control. ‘Do as you’re told and you’ll get them back’. The promise had dangled in the air, cruel and calculated.
When she'd found out what she had to do in order to retrieve them, she'd wanted to scream, to run. But where? With what?
Her entire life savings now amounted to a meagre $300, carefully stashed beneath a loose floorboard under her bed. Money she had earned in secret, selling delicate silver crafts at the local Craft Hub-owned by Ms. Blanche, the one person in this world who had ever shown her kindness. A kindness that had felt like the only silver lining in an otherwise frigidly cold existence.
Her gaze fell on the picture her aunt had left her with that night beside her two bags, already packed with the few clothes and possessions she owned.
What choice did she have? Remain here—trapped in a nightmare, at the mercy of her cousin sick obsession and her uncle’s temper—or step into the lion’s den, praying she wouldn’t be torn apart?
Her heart pounded against her ribs, fear clawing up her throat. How do you prepare yourself to be handed over like property? To walk into the unknown with nothing but dread weighing you down?
You don’t, a voice whispered in her mind. You just survive.
Aurora closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath. That’s all she had left. Survival.
She rose from her bed, heading to the small wooden desk to pick up the two bags she had packed the previous evening. She stuffed the picture into the leather satchel before she swung it over her shoulder, ensuring it was secure, then gripped the duffel bag with her other hand.
Her gaze drifted back to the little attic room that had been her sanctuary for the past nine years. The low beams she had long since grown too tall for, the walls adorned with painted murals of places from happier times, and the small skylight where she would spend countless nights tracing constellations with her eyes-all of it tugged at her chest. This space, these quiet moments of peace, would be the only thing she’d miss. They had been her escape from everything else.
Taking a steady breath, she turned her back on it for the last time and opened the hatch in the floor. Wooden steps creaked beneath her as she descended to the level below.
Half way down, the duffel bag slipped from her grasp, landing with a dull thud on the carpeted floor. Her heart jumped into her throat as her eyes darted towards Harvey’s bedroom door. Silence. No stirring, no sound of movement. Relief flooded through her. She couldn’t wake him, not when she was so close to never seeing him again.
She took the last few steps, carefully retrieving the bag and continued towards the main stairs down to the ground floor.
As she reached the bottom step, movement to her right caught her off guard. She flinched, shoulders tightening, but then her blue-grey eyes settled on the figure emerging from the lounge. Her aunt stood there in a green satin robe, arms crossed. In one hand, she held a folder. Aurora’s pulse steadied; at least it wasn’t Harvey.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Do you have everything with you? Her aunt asked, her tone as cold as always.
“Yes,” Aurora replied quietly.
“Good. Put your keys on the sideboard. You won’t be needing them any longer.”
Wordlessly, Aurora turned, her footsteps muffled on the carpet. She placed the set of keys on the smooth polished surface, her fingers lingering for a second longer then necessary. This was it-the final tether cut.
She turned back to her aunt.
“These are your official documents,” her aunt said coolly, lifting the folder slightly.
Aurora swallowed, forcing herself to meet the woman’s gaze. “And my parents’ things?”
Her aunt clicked her tongue in irritation, then turned to the sideboard. She pulled open a drawer, retrieved a small box, and faced Aurora once more.
“You’ll get this item now. Once the first instalment is paid, I’ll mail you the next. When the second payment comes through, you’ll receive the last one. Understood?”
Thorough, as always. Aurora’s hands clenched at her sides. When it came to money, her aunt never missed a detail. And that was what this was all about, money. Her Uncle needed it after his latest business dealings had gone array, the bride price of the shifters too tempting to resist.
She nodded once, sharp and silent, the only form of agreement she could stomach.
Her aunt didn’t wait for gratitude. She simply placed the box in Aurora’s hands like a transaction fulfilled, a deal struck. Not love. Never love.
Just terms and conditions.
A sharp knock at the door broke the silence. Aurora’s aunt barely spared her a glance before turning to the sound.
“That must be the bus.”
Aurora swallowed hard as her aunt pulled the door open, revealing a short, bald man standing on the front step. He was dressed in a plain grey uniform, his round face unreadable as his gaze flicked over Aurora.
“Morning,” he greeted. “Miss Aurora, I presume?”
She gave a small nod.
“Good, right on time. Let me get that for you.” He reached for her duffel bag by the door without waiting for permission. “If you’ll follow me, miss.”
Aurora hesitated for a second, a sinking feeling settling into the pit of her stomach. She cast one last glance at her aunt, who simply stood there, arms crossed, watching without a word. Aurora turned away, stepping over the threshold, and pulled the door shut quietly behind her.
The morning air was crisp against her skin as she followed the driver down the driveway. At the curb, a sleek black bus idled, its dark windows revealing nothing of its interior. Flanking it on either side were two police motorcycles, their riders stationed nearby. One officer spoke into a radio, his tone clipped and professional. The other sat casually astride his bike, fingers drumming idly against his knee as he surveyed the street.
The driver gave a low chuckle. “Got to say, this is the nicest neighbourhood I’ve ever picked up from. Don’t usually get girls from your background signing up.”
Aurora stiffed but said nothing.
The driver stopped by the luggage compartment, hoisting her duffel bag inside with practiced ease. Then he turned back to her. “Do you want me to take your other bag too, miss?”
The satchel’s weight anchored her, the only thing keeping her grounded. “No, thank you. I’ll carry it with me.”
He shrugged, unbothered, and gestured toward the bus door.
“This way, then.” He led her to the front of the coach, the door opening revealing the few steps into the vehicle.
Aurora inhaled deeply, steeling herself. She lingered at the base of the steps.
This was it.
She glanced back at the house-the place that had never truly been home. The front window curtains barely stirred, but Aurora felt the weight of unseen eyes. Her aunt was still watching.
A lump formed in her throat, but she turned and forced her feet forward.
Stepping onto the bus, she was met with dim lighting and the quiet hum of the engine. Rows of seats stretched before her, some already occupied by young women, their faces shadowed with exhaustion, apprehension, or carefully crafted indifference. A few glanced her way before turning back to their own thoughts.
She clutched the folder and box tighter to her chest and moved down the aisle, choosing an empty seat near the window. She sank into it, shifting her satchel off her shoulder and onto her lap like a shield.
Outside, the driver climbed into his seat, checking something on a clipboard. The officer who had been speaking into his radio nodded, then approached the bus, his boots crunching against the pavement as he said a few words to the driver who nodded in response.
The coach doors sealed shut with a hiss. Outside, the officer swung onto his bike. The engine coming to life.
Aurora swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. This was really happening.
The bus lurched forward, its tires squeaking as it pulled away from the curb. Aurora exhaled shakily, pressing her forehead against the cool window. She should have felt relief-she was finally leaving. But instead, a heavy weight settled on her chest, unmoving.
Then...a sudden commotion snapped her out of her thoughts.
The front door of the house flew open so forcefully it nearly slammed against the siding. A figure burst out onto the porch and barrelled down the driveway.
Harvey.
Still in his sleepwear, he stumbled onto the pavement, his bare feet slapping against the cold concrete as he gave chase. His voice cut through the morning air, sharp and frantic, his arms waving wildly.
Aurora shrank into her seat, heart hammering. Maybe-maybe he wouldn’t see her. Maybe-
The coach turned the corner.
Her breath caught as their eyes locked. His face twisted with rage-and something else, something that sent a cold shiver down her spine. She saw his lips move and she knew it was her name he was yelling.
The coach picked up speed, its tires humming against the road. Harvey fell behind, his shouts fading, swallowed by the distance.
Aurora sat frozen, pulse pounding in her ears, until he was gone-until the house, the street, everything she had ever known disappeared behind her.
Only then did she realise she had been holding her breath. She let it out in a shaky exhale as the bus merged onto the main road, heading toward the highway.
Masts gave way to trees, houses to open fields, as the coach sped onto the highway, heading north. Aurora’s gaze flickered to the roadside as a green sign blurred past.
‘You are leaving Croxton. Thank you for visiting.’
A lump formed in her throat. It had been nine years since she had crossed the town’s boundary. Not even for school trips had she been allowed to leave. Harvey’s obsessive need to keep her close ensured that. Any attempt to stray too far outside his sphere of influence had been met with fits of rage and tightening of control.
She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Soon, she would be beyond his reach.
Her fingers tightened around the folder and the small box resting in her lap. She opened her eyes and flipped open the folder first. Inside were her birth certificate, medical records, and academic qualifications-proof that she existed, that she had a life beyond the confines of that house. As she sifted through the papers, a small envelope slipped free, nearly tumbling to the floor. Aurora caught it just in time.
Curious, she tore it open and froze. Her body going ridged.
A hundred-dollar bill.
In all the years she had lived under her aunt’s roof, she had never been given anything. Not a single gift. Not a single kindness. And now this?
A strange, hollow feeling curled in her chest-something between confusion and resentment. She shoved the money back inside, unwilling to dwell on whatever reasoning had promoted her aunt’s sudden generosity.
Instead, she turned to the box.
Lifting the lid, her breath caught as her heart ached at the sight.
Nestled in deep blue velvet lay a silver compass, its surface inlaid with intricate blue enamel. Carefully, she picked it up, the cool metal pressing against her palm like a whisper from the past. It was exactly as she remembered.
She turned it over, her fingers tracing the inscription on the back-words her father had spoken to her countless times as a child.
“Find your north star and follow it wherever you may go.”
The arrow pointed north. So did she.
