Something Stirs
Ava
There’s something about turning twenty-one that makes everyone suddenly expect answers from you.
What’s your plan? Where are you going? What are you doing with your life?
I have one answer: surviving the next year without falling apart.
I’ve never fit in. Not with my friends, not with my adoptive family, not with anyone. And lately? I’ve been feeling...off.
What no one tells you is that being adopted leaves cracks in you. Empty spaces where answers should be. Even on your best days, you carry a question mark around like a second skin.
These days the questions feel heavier, I’ve been changing lately and the signs are getting harder to ignore. Something inside me is starting to stir.
It started a few weeks ago — the headaches, the flickers of light in my vision, the whispers I can’t quite catch. My reflection has been off too — eyes glowing faintly in the mirror at night. I was raised around the Fae, so magic wasn’t new to me. But me having magic? That was new.
I sit on the floor of my room, knees pulled to my chest, watching candlelight dance across the ceiling. I didn’t light the candles. I don’t even remember owning them. But here they are — five of them, arranged in a perfect circle around me.
Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?
The scent is strange. Sweet but metallic. And the air around them hums.
Like they’re waiting.
I shift uncomfortably and reach to blow one out—But it dies before my breath touches it. All five do.
I go still.
No wind. No open windows.
Just... extinguished. What the fuck?
My phone buzzes on the bed behind me, snapping me back to reality. I scramble up and grab it, keeping a weary eye on tht candles. Zara, my best friend and unintentional chaos magnet, has sent me eight messages in a row:
Zara: Party’s still on Friday!!! Rooftop. Velvet only. Bring that witchy energy.Zara: Did u feel that weird thunder today??Zara: Ava. Answer me.Zara: Are you glowing again?
I turn the phone face down.
I haven’t told her everything. Hell, I haven’t told myself everything.
How do you explain to someone that your bones vibrate when the moon’s full?
Or that some part of you — deep, dark, and clawing — has started whispering in your sleep?
I walk to the mirror, half-expecting to see something else staring back.
But it’s just me.
Pale skin. Wild red curls. Tired green eyes.
And the faintest golden shimmer beneath my collarbone.
It wasn’t there this morning.
I close my eyes firmly, hoping everything will be back to normal when I open them.
Slowly I pry them open, nope, still there.
Sighing I decide to text Zara back.
Witchy energy? Weird thunder? Have you started drinking already?
I hit send before I can overthink it. Her typing bubble pops up instantly. Classic Zara — always on her phone, always half-spellbound by chaos.
I slip mine into my back pocket and glance at the circle of candles again.
They’re lit.
All five.
Perfectly steady flames, dancing in place like nothing happened.
My skin crawls.
I know they went out.
I know they did.
Before I can question it further, the room shifts — just a little. A soft pressure presses against my ears like I’ve driven up a mountain. The kind of stillness you feel before a thunderstorm breaks open the sky.
I blink. Shake my head and step out of the circle.
The pressure fades.
Okay. What the hell is happening to me? And is it affecting the whole house?
I walk out into the hallway barefoot, every step echoing a little louder than it should. The shadows seem deeper tonight. The house creaks like it’s exhaling something old and tired. I’ve walked this hallway many times growing up, but tonight something feels off. Like the walls are watching me.
I pass the bathroom mirror and catch a flicker in the corner of my eye.
I back up and look again.
There’s something behind me, not a person, not a shadow exactly, but something moving just out of sync with reality. A shimmer of light, like heatwaves on pavement, gone the second I blink.
I grip the doorknob, breathing heavy.
Nope. Not normal. Definitely not normal.
Just then I hear a sound downstairs, the front door closing. My mom must’ve come in late again. Slipping my phone out my pocket I check the time, 11:42 PM.
She hates being out after dark. Always has. Says the veil between things is too thin after midnight. Since she was a nurse I believed her. Maybe she’s seen things other people haven’t.
I creep down the stairs, careful not to make them squeak as to not startle her. She was always so jumpy at night.
I find her in the kitchen standing over the sink, her back to me. She hasn’t turned on the lights. Only a small flame flickers from a strange little bowl on the counter.
I stay just outside the doorway, hidden.
She whispers something, not English. Not Fae either.
A slow, rhythmic chant.
My skin tingles.
The flame rises.
I lean forward instinctively, just as the flame suddenly snaps out. The whole house exhales again. The lights overhead flicker once, twice, then go steady. Suddenly I can breathe easier.
My mom turns, just barely. “You’re still awake?”
I freeze. “Couldn’t sleep.”
She studies me for a second too long. Her eyes drop to my collarbone. Her expression tightens.
“You should get some rest,” she says finally. “Big day tomorrow.”
I don’t remember having anything planned for tomorrow. “Why?”
She forces a smile. “Just... you’re turning twenty-one soon. Everything changes after twenty-one.”
Her voice carries weight. Not the “time to start paying rent” kind. Something heavier. Like she’s trying not to say too much.
I nod slowly. “Night.”
Back in my room, I lock the door.
All five candles are gone.
Not burned out. Not melted.
Just...gone.
The floor is bare. No wax. No ash. No smoke.
Nothing.
I stand in the middle of the room, breathing like I’ve run a marathon, and the golden shimmer under my collarbone begins to glow not faint this time.
Brighter.
Pulsing.
Like a second heartbeat trying to break free.
Seriously, what the fuck is happening?
