Alexander offered a few more books for us to bring home and Ethan gladly took it. I knew he will read it cover to cover and make a lot of game plans with Jake. I can already see their gears turning. Meanwhile, I just stared blankly at single rose flower on the desk until what he said snapped me out of my thoughts. "My assistant will come and pick you up a week from now. So, I hope you finish everything that's in your job because for the foreseeable future, this place will be your home."
"For how long?" Jake asked.
"For as long as it takes." Alexander said with that edge on his tone that makes me think he's not thrilled by this at all. Well, so do I.
"What happened after?" I found myself asking.
His gaze softened when he looked at me. "You decide what you want to do after."
Well, I would like to go back to my normal life. But I didn't say it out loud.
I didn't say anything at all when he opened a portal to our own home and we just walked right into Jake's living room.
The living room looked exactly the same as when we left it. The couch cushions still held the faint indent of where most of us sat. The throw blanket was folded the way Ethan always folded it, too neat, corners tucked in like he was afraid of wasting space.
Nothing had changed. And yet I felt like I'd stepped into a stranger's house.
Ethan set the books down on the coffee table and immediately started flipping through one of them, already absorbed, already doing. Jake hovered near the door, hands shoved into his pockets like he didn't know what to do with them anymore.
I walked past both of them and into the kitchen.
The refrigerator hummed softly. The clock on the microwave blinked 12:00. I stared at it for a long moment, waiting for the numbers to make sense.
They didn't.
"Hey," Jake said gently from behind me. "You okay?"
The question felt wrong. Too big. Too loaded.
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
He didn't buy it. I could hear it in the way his breathing changed.
"I should've told you," he said. "About everything. About what I can do. I thought if I kept it away from you—"
"You thought you were protecting me," I finished for him.
"Yes," he said quickly. "Exactly."
I nodded, even though my chest felt hollow.
"I get that," I said. And I did. Logically. Rationally. It all lined up in a neat, reasonable explanation that made perfect sense.
That didn't make it hurt less.
He kept secrets stacked on top of years I thought were shared. It meant that when I thought Jake was just my brother, my safe place, there was a whole part of him I never knew existed.
And now I was supposed to trust him to help me navigate this?
I turned away from the fridge and leaned against the counter. "I just… need some air."
Jake straightened immediately. "I'll come with you."
The speed of it made my stomach tighten.
"No," I said, sharper than I meant to. I forced my voice to soften. "I just want to sit outside. I'll be right there. I promise."
He hesitated.
That hesitation used to make me feel cared for. Now it made me feel watched.
"Okay," he said finally. "I'll be inside."
I stepped out onto the small balcony and closed the door behind me.
The city spread out in front of me, familiar and distant all at once. Cars moved below, people walked their dogs, someone laughed too loudly somewhere down the street. Life continued at a pace I no longer matched.
I wrapped my arms around myself and waited for the comfort to come. It didn't.
This used to work. Fresh air. A moment alone. The quiet understanding that the world was still spinning and I was still part of it.
Now everything felt… thin. Like I was watching it through glass.
What if the girl who felt safe in coffee shops and bookstores and late-night writing sessions was gone? I thought of Jake, of how easily he'd stood in front of danger without telling me. Of how natural it must've been for him to lie by omission.
I hated myself for the thought that followed. If he could hide that… what else could he hide? The guilt came fast, sharp and ugly. He was still my brother. He loved me. He'd stayed by my side through everything. And yet I'm still mad at him.
A WEEK LATER
The week passed in pieces instead of days.
I answered emails on autopilot, sent polite refusals to publishers I would've killed to work with a month ago, and wrapped up contracts like I was tidying a desk before quitting a job I wasn't ready to leave. Everything felt temporary now. Provisional. As if someone had already decided this version of my life was ending and just hadn't told me when.
Jake sometimes went to my house and moved through every room like a ghost trying not to make noise. He cooked. He cleaned. He asked if I'd eaten, if I'd slept, if I needed anything. Always careful. Always gentle. Like one wrong step would make me disappear entirely.
Ethan, on the other hand, treated the situation like a problem to solve.
The books Alexander gave us never left his sight. I even saw him reading it in his office when I visited him to talk about my contracts. There are multiple tabs sticking out, sticky notes layered on top of one another, diagrams sketched on loose paper. I caught glimpses of words when I passed by. Thresholds. Containment. Accords. None of it meant anything to me, and yet my chest would tighten every time I saw that symbol, the crowned heart, printed at the top of a page
Once, late at night, after dinner with Jake's whole team to congratulate me after the alley incident, I lingered at the hallway and listened.
"They don't intervene unless balance is at risk," Ethan was saying quietly. "That's consistent across the texts."
"And who decides that?" Jake asked.
There was a pause.
"The Order," Ethan replied. "They consist of at least nine high counsellors, if I have to guess it's similar to voting. Hightower is one of the names in the list of counsellors."
I leaned my head against the wall, listening to the hum of voices blur together. This whole thing is more absurd and I can't comprehend anything at all.
The next morning, by the time Alexander's assistant came to pick me up, I pictured a man that's going to be as much as intimidating as him, what I didn't expect is a woman in a long black dress and dark red overcoat knocking on my door with a chauffeur waiting in a sleek black Mercedes. She introduced as Sara and she asked me to bring everything that's important to me and reasurred me that my house will be maintained monthly even if I'm not home.
Hence I brought a luggage full of my clothes and important albums, I also bring my laptop and a few of my manuscripts with me. Sara easily help me put my things in the trunk before opening the door for me.
When we began to move I can't help but asked, "Why don't you use the portal thing again?"
"He told me to use the car. Something about letting you know where we're going."
I can't help but leaned closer, "So, where are we going?"
"Grifith Park."
"Huh," I don't even know what to say. Is it really that close.
"What? Is it not to your expectation?"
I was kinda taken aback with that question but she's kinda got it right. "A little."
"It's the nearest entry point to where we're actually going. Or do you prefer we drove straight to the ocean?"
"Excuse me?" I repeated.
Sara laughed but not politely, not quietly. It burst out of her like she genuinely found the idea entertaining. "Relax. I'm kidding. Mostly."
She leaned one elbow against the center console, posture relaxed, one leg tucked beneath her like this was a road trip and not a handoff to a secret magical authority. Her nails were painted a deep wine red, chipped just enough to suggest she didn't care to fix them.
"Griffith Park," she went on, "isn't the destination. It's just… the door."
"That's comforting," I muttered.
"Oh, I didn't mean it to be," she said cheerfully. "If it helps, it's a very nice door. Lots of trees. Tourists. Dog walkers. People never think to look twice."
I watched the city slide by outside the window. "You don't sound like you work for someone like Alexander."
She glanced at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Is that what you think he's like?"
"Intimidating. Controlled. Like he's always know everything."
Sara hummed thoughtfully. "That's fair."
"And you?" I asked. "You don't seem… like that."
She grinned. "I'm not a counsellor. I'm just a part-time assistant. Which means I get to break rules as long as the results are acceptable."
That actually sounds very human.
"So you believe in all this?" I asked. "The Order. Balance. Deciding who gets to live a normal life and who doesn't."
"I'm still Ælytheran," she said after a moment. "It'll be dumb for me to ignore it, besides I'm very good at what I do."
"A what now?"
"Ah, Ælytheran, I guess in human terms it's witches or magician. You really didn't know anything at all do you?"
I don't even know how to answer it without sounding stupid so I just shook my head. "You're handling this better than most."
I snorted. "I don't think I'm dealing with any of it."
She shot me a sideways look. "Well, not everyday I get to meet someone like you. This will be the talk of the century."
The car slowed as we turned onto a winding road lined with trees. The city noise faded, replaced by birds and distant laughter from hikers. Sunlight filtered through the branches, dappled and warm.
It looked normal.
That was the worst part.
"So," Sara said lightly. "Last chance to ask me to turn around."
I stared out at the trees, my reflection faint in the glass. Somewhere between the leaves and the shadows, something in my chest twisted between fear, curiosity, grief, all tangled together.
"What happens to Jake?" I asked.
She considered that. "Someone else picked him up. Relax, he's in good hands."
I nodded slowly.
"Okay," I said. "Let's see the door."
Sara's smile widened, not predatory, not pleased. Just… excited.
"That's the spirit," she said, cutting the engine.
I imagine the door to be quite a grand entrance or something flashy with renaissance decor but we just drive the below the Observatory one second and the next thing I know the road smoothed out beneath us, the gravel giving way to clean asphalt that looked too new to belong out here. The trees thinned, the air sharpened, and something in my ears popped.
"This is still Griffith Park?" I asked.
Sara smiled, eyes forward. "Not anymore."
The field stretched wider the farther we went. The horizon bent strangely, like the land itself didn't quite agree with perspective. As we got closer, the building came into focus. Not a castle. Not a tower.
It look a lot like a campus. Surrounded by the ocean.
Low, angular structures spread out across the green like they'd been placed deliberately rather than built. Stone and steel fused together, the architecture clean and modern, interrupted by training yards marked with geometric lines burned into the grass. I spotted figures moving in pairs, in groups. Some sparring. Some just throwing balls. All of them chirping and laughing. It's actually not that different from my college day but did I mention the ocean. I mean besides the green field the rest is just ocean blue. Endless and deep blue, crashing against black rock cliffs far below us.
My stomach sank. "Oh God,"
"It's fine," Sara replied. "I used to be a student in here too."
That wasn't comforting either.
As we crossed the massive lawn, the scale of the place became clear. Training grounds carved into terraces. There are towers that looked more like watch posts. Dormitory buildings arranged with precision with simple block naming from A to G. The ocean surrounded everything, waves breaking relentlessly against the cliffs constantly rubbing my ears. Reminding me I will have a hard time getting out of here.
This wasn't a school.
Sara parked near a wide courtyard where several people were gathered, some in athletic gear, some in darker clothing that has different logos. The air buzzed faintly, like static before a storm.
I stepped out of the car and immediately felt it.
Pressure.
Not heavy. Just… present. Like the air itself was aware of me.
"Take a breath," Sara murmured behind me. "First time here is always sensory overload."
I did, shakily. Then I saw him.
Jake stood near the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed, jaw tight. He looked up the second I stepped forward, relief flashing across his face so fast it nearly broke me.
"Emily," he said, already moving.
I didn't think. I just walked into him and let him wrap his arms around me, grounding, familiar. His heartbeat was fast, his grip a little too tight.
"You're here," he breathed into my hair.
"Looks like it," I said weakly.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. "Are you okay?"
I searched his face. The brother I knew was still there. But now I could see it, the way his posture mirrored the place, the way he looked like someone who'd already started adapting.
"I don't know," I admitted.
He nodded, like that answer made sense here.
Sara cleared her throat. "Reunion's over. You'll have time later."
I glanced around again at the island, the ocean, the people walking and running. I was shocked when I saw some of them leap so far to the sky with a loud boom and I don't see him coming back down soon. Shit. Maybe this is a bad idea after all.
My old life felt impossibly far away.
"So this is it," I murmured.
Jake squeezed my hand.
Sara led us through a big double door. The moment we stepped inside, the air changed—not heavier, just… quieter. Like the outside world had been muted. The interior opened into a wide atrium flooded with natural light, glass walls stretching high above us. If I ignored the subtle hum beneath my feet and the faint sigils etched into the marble floor, it could've passed for any elite university campus.
People moved through the space in small groups. Some laughed, some argued softly, some were glued to their phones like this was just another Tuesday. Most of them wore normal clothes like jeans, sneakers, hoodies, dresses. One girl passed us with earbuds in, humming under her breath.
And then there were the others.
But there a some who wore black long robes layered over modern clothing, the fabric rich and heavy, embroidered with crests stitched at the chest. I caught flashes of symbols like animals, geometric patterns, something that looked like a constellation. No two were the same.
I stared a second too long.
"They're students too," Sara said under her breath, amused. "Just a little stressed because of the assessment but they're not going to bite."
"What are the robes for?" I asked.
"Families," she replied simply. "Each have their own lineages. You'll learn which ones matter later."
That didn't sound ominous at all.
Jake leaned closer. "You okay?"
"I feel like I walked into modern Hogwarts but okay," I muttered.
He snorted quietly. "Yeah, that tracks."
I elbowed him in the gut when Sara walked a few steps ahead of us. "Just because you don't like it, doesn't mean I will accept your slandering."
Jake just laugh and fake complained about his ribs hurting. We passed through corridors that branched off in clean, deliberate lines. Signs marked different wings for Theory, Advance, Physical Conditioning. A large open space to our left held what looked like a gym, except the walls were reinforced steel and the floor bore scorch marks that no amount of polishing could fully erase.
We stepped outside again, this time into a residential quad. Low-rise buildings surrounded a central courtyard with trees and stone benches. It looked peaceful. Almost cozy, if you ignored the faint shimmer in the air that looked like heat haze.
"This is where you'll be staying," Sara said, gesturing to one of the buildings. "Private rooms. Shared common areas. Curfew's flexible unless you give them a reason not to trust you."
"And if we do?" Jake asked.
She smiled thinly. "There's a solitary ward upstairs but it's not that bad."
Inside, the hallway smelled faintly of cedar and something metallic. My room was simple but comfortable with a bed, a desk, a window overlooking the ocean so vast it made my stomach ache. My luggage was already there, neatly placed at the foot of the bed. Jake's room was across the hall. I didn't know whether to be relieved or afraid of that.
"You'll have the rest of the day to settle in," Sara said. "Orientation starts tomorrow morning."
"And tonight?" I asked.
"Tonight," she said, pausing at the doorway, "you try to sleep."
She left us there. Jake leaned against the doorframe of my room, watching me take it all in. "We'll figure this out," he said quietly. "Together."
I nodded, because it was easier than explaining the truth. That this place didn't feel like safety. It felt like the beginning of something I wasn't sure I'd survive.
And true to that, the morning started with violence. Not magical violence. Not existential dread. Just a loud, unforgiving knock on my door at exactly seven in the morning.
A chipper voice echoed through the hallway. "Orientation begins in thirty minutes. Please be dressed and presentable."
I groaned into my pillow. "This is a crime," I muttered.
Across the hall, I heard Jake's door open, followed by his unmistakable yawn. "It's seven," he said, horrified. "Who does this to people?"
"This Order," I forced myself to also open my door and called back to watch a woman with a tight bun and long striped skirt walked away. "They apparently hate sleep."
By the time I dragged myself back into my room and changed into something vaguely appropriate and tied my hair into a messy bun, my mood had soured beyond repair. Jake looked marginally better already dressed, already alert in that unfair way he always had been. Bet his military background really help him waking up in weird hours like this. I only wish I had the same skills.
"You look awful," he said fondly.
"I will suck your soul if you keep talking," I replied, deadpan.
Orientation, thankfully, was… underwhelming. No grand speeches. No declarations of destiny. No ominous prophecies carved into stone. Just a group of us with a man in his 30th wearing a dark blue suit with a pin with different imagery. I think it's the same with the constellation-like shape that I saw on one of those robes. His explanation is so fast as he ran through the basics like this was a corporate retreat.
The lecture hall was first. Tiered seating, massive screens, and walls lined with some kind of dark metal that faintly shimmered when someone in the room shifted too abruptly.
"Conductive alloy," he explained. "Absorbs excess magical output. Keeps radiation within acceptable thresholds."
Jake shot me a look. I pretended not to notice. The training hall came next, and that one made my stomach tighten. It was enormous, high ceilings reinforced with layered barriers, the floor marked with concentric rings etched deep into the stone. The air felt thicker here.
"This area is retrofitted for active use," the guide said. "Containment fields activate automatically if someone were to use their powers."
The gym and sports yard almost felt like a joke by comparison, it's filled with modern equipment, wide open fields, people jogging and stretching like this was any other campus. Except one guy lifted a weighted bar that could probably sum up to a hundred kg, I wonder why the bar hasn't snap under his grip.
The cafeteria was the real shock. Bright. Open. Smelled incredible.
"Everything's free," the guide added casually, like he was talking about complimentary mints. "Nutrition is part of regulation."
I grabbed a coffee immediately, clinging to the cup like a lifeline.
"Okay," I admitted to Jake quietly. "If they're bribing us with food, it's working."
He huffed a laugh. "Yeah. They'll have to restock sooner because I'm getting that stack of pancakes after this."
By the time orientation wrapped up, I almost felt normal. Almost. The guide left us for breakfast time and its one of those rare moment that I feel at home with Jake eating and fighting over maple syrup. But yhat illusion shattered the moment we were told to report to the administrative wing.
Alexander was already waiting when we arrived, standing by the window with his hands clasped behind his back, the ocean stretching endlessly behind him.
"Good," he said without turning. "You're settling in."
I exchanged a glance with Jake.
"We're ok for now," I said.
Alexander turned then, his expression unreadable. "You've seen the grounds. You understand the structure. Now we begin the part that actually matters."
Jake straightened instinctively. "Which is?"
Alexander's gaze moved between us, sharp and assessing.
"To remove the seal," he said.
The door closed behind us with a soft, final click. And just like that, whatever illusion of safety I'd built over free coffee and quiet hallways dissolved completely.