Chapter 3
Avilyna
I DON’T LIE
The night drags on, each moment heavier than the last. I force a smile, even laugh, well, kind of, at the dad jokes.
“Why don’t skeletons fight each other?” He waits for my answer but quickly gives up after seeing my clueless look. “They don’t have the guts.” He grins at his own pun, clearly proud. I give a weak chuckle, but my heart isn’t in it.
Looking up at me before passing the salt, he asks gently, “What’s going on?”
And I panic.
I don’t lie, I can’t lie, it’s just not in my nature. I am bluntly truthful, and that trait has gotten me in trouble more times than I can count. I decide to use the lesser evil of my truths.
“Mmm… I’ve been asked out on a date,” I cringe with every word.
“Oh, and that’s a bad thing?” Seeing the surprised look on my face, he quickly adds, “I know why it’s a bad thing from my point of view, but I thought you teenagers were looking forward to that.”
“For some, I guess… Anyway, it’s tomorrow, but I feel guilty because you leave on Saturday, and it will be our last night before you go away for a month.”
“Do you want to go?”
“It doesn’t matter, I can—”
My dad stops me mid-sentence.“Avilyna, what you want matters.”
I freeze, eyes locked on him. I want to believe those words. I want to believe he means them. But how can someone say that and still hide so much?
The hypocrisy twists in my chest, and the anger starts to bubble. Just then, the low hum of the TV in the background cuts through the tension, pulling my attention away. The news reporter’s face is grim, her voice strained, as she speaks over eerie footage of dark woods and flashing sirens.
—Several bodies found, believed to be victims of animal attacks. Authorities are urging residents to stay indoors after disturbing reports of half-eaten remains discovered near the outskirts of town…
The static buzz fills the room, and I watch in horror as a close-up of a mangled body flashes on the screen. My muscles tense. Outside, the wind picks up, rattling the windows like a warning.
—In response to growing concerns, city officials are considering implementing a curfew for all residents, but starting tomorrow, only a mandatory curfew for minors will be enforced.
All minors must be in their residences by 10 p.m., and violators will face penalties.
This comes after a rise in alarming incidents in surrounding areas…
The words sink in, a chill creeping down my spine. If they are implementing a curfew, the authorities must be getting desperate. I can hear the faint crackling of the broadcast still playing in the background, but my mind is stuck on the same horrifying question: What really happened out there?
My dad lets out a low whistle, clearly rattled. “A curfew? That’s serious.” I nod, but my thoughts are racing. What if something worse happens?
“Alright. When is your date?” He grabs the plates as he walks towards the sink.
“Eww, don’t say that,” I cringe internally.
“What am I supposed to say then?” My dad laughs, getting busy cleaning up.
“I don’t know, but not that, and it’s tomorrow night.” I start picking up the dishes from the table.
“Okay, you’ll check in at 8:30. I want boots through that door no later than 9:30.”
“Overprotective much? You do realize I’m not a minor anymore, right?” I mumble, the words sharper than I intended.
“Am I clear?” His voice cuts through the air, leaving no place for argument.
“Crystal,” I mutter back, not bothering to look at him as I leave the kitchen, once the porcelain hits the sink.
“Love you too, Pickle,” he calls back, trying to keep things light. But the weight is pressing down on me as I take the stairs up to my room.
I want to believe I imagined that phone call.
I want to believe that the man downstairs, the one who loves me and always protects me, isn't the same one I overheard earlier. I can only hope that my father won’t become someone who shatters my trust.
The next day, I’m trapped inside my own head. Every thought loops, every worry tightens its grip. To make matters worse, my schedule is packed with classes where it takes only seconds for boredom to sink its teeth into me.
As the teacher’s voice drones on, my focus slips, and words blur. My mind drifts, far from the lesson, far from the present. My fingers fidget with the edge of my sleeve, tracing invisible shapes across the fabric in a quiet, desperate attempt to ground myself.
Kvirr.
The word floats up again, unshakable. Over the years, I’ve searched it up more times than I care to admit. I typed it into every search engine, on every device, at every stop along the way.
Nothing.
No entries, no records, no whispers of urban legend tucked away in some obscure forum.
But I never stopped.
Every year, I searched again. Technology evolves; maybe one day something will appear. Whenever we moved, which was often, I made it a point to check every library I could find. Big cities, small towns, I dug through public catalogues, university archives, dusty shelves in old bookstores.
Still nothing.
No hint of Kvirr.
Except once.
I got close, so close it still haunts me. I found something buried in a forum’s local lore section that mentioned a witch coven in New York City. It said they practiced Kvirr, and for the first time, I felt that jolt of recognition, not just curiosity, but something primal.
Only I was fifteen then, living with Aunt Ruby while Dad was on the road working.
She wouldn’t let me out of her sight, convinced it was her job to give me some semblance of stability, after all the years Dad pulled me from place to place.
And she wasn’t wrong. He had dragged me all over the country.
Still, by the time I was finally old enough, finally free to go on my own terms, the information wasn’t relevant anymore.
It had disappeared, as if it had never existed.
That creeping weight rises again thick, heavy, and suffocating. The classroom noise dulls to a low hum. Laughter, whispers, and the shuffle of papers fade into nothingness…
I’m not here anymore.
I’m somewhere deep inside my mind, behind glass I can’t break. My pulse pounds louder with each heartbeat, echoing in my ears, thrumming through my veins. Every second stretches unbearably long as I fight to steady my breath.
Shallow.
Ragged.
Not good.
Then, the bell rings, sharp and jarring.
I jolt upright.
With clammy hands, I scramble to gather my books.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Van approaching, worry etched across her face. “Lyna, you okay?”
I keep my gaze low, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… you know me. I just can’t stand sitting still for too long.”
She doesn’t buy it.
I wouldn’t either. My hands are still trembling, my jaw clenched tight. Van arches a perfectly sculpted brow, her smile sharp and knowing.
“Okay, well… if sitting still turns you into a walking anxiety attack, I clearly need to drag you somewhere with oxygen and decent lighting.”
Ditching school isn’t exactly my proudest decision, but it’s my first time here.
And it’s my last year before I have to decide what my future will look like.
Honestly, it’s not like the dean can get in touch with my dad.
So, with all that in mind, I make the reckless, yet semi-logical choice to follow my brilliant, bad influence of a best friend. Besides, we only had one class left.
Arriving at our beloved location, the old port, I park in our favourite spot in front of the water. Tucked just far enough from the main path to give us privacy, while we indulge in our favourite pastime: gardening, of course. After pulling a long drag from Van’s stash, I pass it back to her.
“Anxiety fucking sucks.”
Coughing lightly, she asks me, “Did anything trigger it?”
“You know me, everything is triggering,” I say with a sarcastic laugh, but when I see that she doesn’t return my smile, I continue with a serious tone.
“I recently had a vivid nightmare, and I haven’t been able to shake it.”
Meeting Van’s eyes, I see they are focused on me, giving me all of her attention.
It makes me feel like my words are relevant, no matter what I say, like she’s here to listen and help me through whatever is bothering me.
But opening up to someone who isn’t mandated by blood to not judge me is scary, especially with what happened last time.
So I chose the safest option.
“I dreamt of my brother dying.”
Her eyes soften with a shine of sadness. A weight settles in my chest like I'm a burden, but I know she cares. So I shove the thought down, burying it beneath the tangled mess of my insecurities.
“Well, it’s understandable for you to be on edge after having a dream like that, but remember to go easy on yourself.”
“Yeah… I know,” I answer a bit distractedly. My eyes catch onto something moving in the trees, but she doesn't seem to notice.
A chill crawls up my spine.
“Did you see that?”
Vanessa turns her head towards the direction I am looking. “See what?”
I blink, convinced I glimpsed something tall moving in the shadows, but now, there's nothing. It must have been my imagination.
“Mmm… never mind.” My attention drifts to a raven soaring across the horizon, its sleek black feathers shimmering with hints of blue in the sunlight.
It's strangely mesmerizing.
“Come on, let's go to the bookstore. I think we smoked enough. I’ll buy you a book,” Vanessa tells me with a worried tone.
“I won’t say no to that.” I smile, trying to reassure her, but I can tell that she isn’t fully convinced.
We stop for coffee on our way to the bookstore; it’s not fall yet, but you can feel the shift in the air as the colder weather is making itself known.
But with the sun shining bright, I ordered an iced caramel latte without hesitation.
We take our time. I, not wanting to spend more awkward moments at home, and Vanessa want to avoid her judgmental family.
Even if she’s the one saying it, I couldn’t agree more.