Chapter 3: The House: Ghost in the stall

Peter:

“Can you draw those cursed doors opening?” Peter asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Or better yet—just draw us already at home.”

“I’ll try,” Alexa said.

She opened the sketchbook again, flipping past the drawing of the shattered spider, and began sketching a new scene: the two of them standing before the towering, mirrored doors of the glass house, watching as they slowly spiraled open. She turned the page and drew the next image—both of them gazing out of her bedroom window, looking up at a normal sky, deep black and vast, with only one quiet moon hanging above the trees.

She held her breath, heart pounding. Then she closed the sketchbook gently.

The faint magical glow that had been surrounding her fingertips… faded. The air stilled.

Nothing happened.

Peter’s shoulders slumped. “This sucks...” he muttered, disappointment heavy in his voice. He kicked at the glittering glass dust near his foot. Then, trying to rally both their spirits, he added, “Maybe your powers just need to recharge or something. Like, a cool-down period?”

Alexa gave him a small, half-hearted smile, but her eyes stayed fixed on the silent, unmoving door.

"I don't want to make things worse, but I think we've done all we can here. I don't have the strength to fight another spider," Peter said, limping over to Alexa and placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "Let's head back to your place. We'll rest, and tomorrow we can visit my house first, and then come back here. How does that sound?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan." Alexa looked him in the eyes. "Don't you want to see what your house and room look like today?"

"No. My house is quite far, and with this leg, I don't have the strength to walk that much," he replied.

"I understand. We could also try with one of the cars," Alexa started.

"...Lex, first of all, we don't have the keys to any of them. Second, neither of us has a license. And third, we'd probably draw too much attention to ourselves," Peter said.

"You're right." She nodded in agreement, and they both headed toward the exit of the glass garden.

As soon as Peter and Alexa stepped out of the shimmering, surreal glass garden, a sudden movement startled them both.

A few steps ahead, they saw a figure leaning casually against the stone wall, half-hidden in the shadows, as though he had been waiting there for some time. His presence was immediately unsettling, yet strangely magnetic.

Peter froze in his tracks, instincts kicking in as the figure's silhouette took shape in the dim light. It wasn’t just his appearance—it was the way the air seemed to shift around him, like something alive, something that didn’t quite belong.

As the figure took a step forward, Peter, still half-dazed from the encounter with the spider, reacted instinctively. Without a word, he swung the bat in a swift arc, almost blindly, the force behind it a testament to his adrenaline-fueled panic.

The man—no, the being—was quick, too quick. With a fluid motion, he sidestepped Peter’s wild swing as if it were nothing more than a passing breeze, and in doing so, he revealed himself in full.

He was tall—though not imposing in a way that suggested strength. Instead, there was something ethereal about him, something delicate in the way he carried himself, like the grace of a flower in full bloom. His hair was dark, a deep burgundy that shimmered faintly under the streetlights, and his eyes… amber, warm yet penetrating, as though they could see through to Peter’s very thoughts. His face, pale but radiant, held a hint of something both familiar and distant, as if he were not entirely of this world.

Peter blinked, still gripping the bat, his chest heaving from the sudden movement. The man smiled gently, though it was a smile laced with an odd sadness—something about it seemed knowing, as if he had been waiting for this moment.

“I’m sorry,” Peter stammered, lowering the bat slightly, his confusion thick in the air. "I didn’t—"

The man’s gaze lingered, calm and unbothered. He gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, as if the situation were nothing more than a momentary distraction. "No harm done," he said, his voice low and smooth, with an accent that seemed familiar, yet oddly timeless.

Peter, still unsure of what to make of the encounter, tightened his grip on the bat, taking a step back. "Who are you?" he demanded, though the question hung in the air, more out of instinct than genuine curiosity.

The man tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the question. His eyes gleamed with a strange light, unreadable yet oddly comforting. "A better question," he said, voice soft but deliberate, "might be why you are here."

Alexa stepped forward. “We’ve been lost for a while,” she said cautiously. “Who are you really?”

The man’s smile deepened, though it was still tinged with something like melancholy. He gave a soft chuckle, almost to himself, before his gaze turned back to Peter. "You don’t need to know everything right now. Not yet, at least.”

Peter, still wary, relaxed his stance slightly but didn’t lower the bat entirely.

“Oh, okay, so we’re going with the mysterious stranger routine now? What do you want from us?”

The man’s expression shifted just slightly, his eyes briefly flickering with something unreadable. But then, as if nothing had changed, he straightened again, taking a small step forward. “What I want…” he began, his voice trailing off, like he was contemplating the answer. “I want nothing from you, at least not in the way you think.”

Peter didn’t know whether to be reassured or even more unsettled. The air around the stranger seemed to shimmer with an almost imperceptible tension.

Alexa’s curiosity seemed to push her forward, despite the uneasy feeling building within her. “So why are you here?” she asked. "What is it you’re doing?"

The man’s gaze softened for a brief moment, his expression almost wistful. “I am… just someone passing through. You might say, I am a reminder that not all things are as they seem.” He paused, his gaze flicking briefly to the horizon. "But then again, you already knew that, didn’t you?"

There was something in the way he spoke, something that seemed to imply he understood far more than he was letting on. But there was also an openness to his words, an unspoken invitation that left room for them to decide whether to trust him.

Peter looked at Alexa, uncertainty clear in his eyes. She returned his glance, and for a moment, they seemed to share the same thought. There was something about the stranger that was both comforting and unnerving, and they weren’t sure if it was safe to draw any conclusions just yet.

Without another word, the man turned slightly, gesturing for them to follow. "I’d offer you more answers, but answers, like everything else, are often more complex than they appear. Perhaps you’ll find what you’re looking for, or perhaps not. That is the nature of things, after all."

Peter still hesitated but nodded toward Alexa, as if silently deciding that they had little choice but to follow, for now.

With a final glance over his shoulder, the man started walking away towards Alexa’s house, his movements fluid and purposeful, as if he knew exactly where they were going. Alexa and Peter exchanged one last uncertain look before following him, the sound of their footsteps blending with the quiet rustle of the wind around them.

"I’m Phillip," the man said, pointing to himself and bowing gracefully. "You’re Peter, and you’re Lex." He pointed to each of them in turn. "Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, I must say, this alley has definitely come alive since you made your grand entrance."

"Are you from our world?" Alexa asked, hope in her voice.

"No, but I did have the pleasure of visiting it a few times, and I must admit, you've done a marvelous job with it," Phillip replied, continuing to lead the two of them toward Alexa's house. "You should know, young lady, that what you just did beneath that tower truly impressed me. Not everyone handles their talent so well without having established their own Domain, especially on foreign one. Oohh, really, bravo, bravo!"He clapped his hands sharply.

"I don't have control over it. I tried again, but it didn’t work," Alexa said, her eyes dropping to the ground with quiet frustration.

"What is a Domain?" Peter asked immediately after.

"Please, one thing at a time," Phillip said with a slight chuckle, his voice smooth and measured. He turned toward Alexa, offering a warm, reassuring smile without even breaking his stride. "I know you have a ton of questions, but I only have so many answers to spare tonight."

He paused, then continued, the tone of his voice shifting to something more informative, yet still laced with that effortless charm. "First things first, as I mentioned, Lex… this whole mirror garden? It's a Domain. Whose, I couldn’t say—though I’m guessing it doesn’t belong to anyone particularly important, or perhaps to no one at all. Still, it’s a Domain, and as such, it’s very much alive. It will do whatever it can to protect its core from you—whether that means sending spiders after you, blocking your talents, or pulling some other trick from up its sleeve."

“Secondly, because deep down you’ve realized what you're capable of and why you're capable of it, establishing your own Domain is just a matter of finding the right place,” Phillip said with a wink, giving her two quick blinks. “What’s the phrase you use? ‘Home is where the heart is,’ or is it the other way around?” He chuckled lightly. “And once your Domain blooms, given the circumstances we’ve just encountered, we’ll have to part ways for a while.” He stopped, his gaze fixed on Alexa’s house, just a few dozen feet down the street. “But don’t cry for me. I’m certain we’ll meet again soon,” he added with a smile.

“What do you mean by that?” Peter asked. “Why come to us at all, if you were just planning to vanish a moment later?”

Phillip gave a low chuckle, scratching his chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness as his gaze danced between them.

“I must’ve forgotten how terribly impatient human seedlings can be.”

“Seedlings?” Alexa blinked, raising an eyebrow. “You mean… kids?”

“Oh, yes, my apologies. That is indeed what I meant.” Phillip laughed, bright and easy, like the sun breaking through clouds. Then, with a spark in his eye, he added, “I was actually heading elsewhere—far, far elsewhere—but your dramatic little arrival caught my eye. And I thought, why not? My journey can afford a detour or two.”

“Uh… thank you? I think?” Peter said, still trying to make sense of the man’s strange charm. “So what Lex did—was that magic? Did she see what was going to happen?”

“Or… did I cause it?” Alexa asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Phillip’s grin softened into something almost fond. “Talents have their own rhythms, their own voices. I can’t say how yours will sing, Alexa. But once you’ve found your own Domain, I suspect many of your questions will begin to answer themselves.”

With that, he resumed his springy pace, shoes tapping lightly against the cobblestones as they moved toward Alexa’s home.

“Now, would you be so kind as to show me your sketchbook? I’d love to compare your vision to what I witnessed.”

Alexa handed it over without a word. Phillip accepted it with a slight bow, then flipped through the pages with impossible speed, each movement smooth and deliberate. His eyes scanned the drawings with almost alien precision, darting from line to line like a hawk in flight. Then, just as swiftly, he closed the sketchbook with a practiced flick and returned it to her with a knowing smile.

“I’d say your talent gave our dear Peter here—” he swept his hand toward the boy with the flair of a stage magician “—a temporary boost of strength and speed. And it certainly took the wind out of our arachnid friend.”

Peter tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his expression like a lit match.

“Why do you think it wasn’t just a prophecy? A glimpse of what was meant to happen?” he asked.

Phillip’s eyes sparkled. “Because I watched your battle. Every messy, glorious second of it. And it didn’t unfold quite like the sketch. Your blows landed differently. The spider’s legs shattered in another order. And in the drawing of your triumphant moment…” he paused for emphasis, “you’re still wearing your backpack. But the shadow knocked it clean off you when it struck your chest.”

Peter’s hand instinctively reached for his shoulder—and only then did he realize the weight was missing. Somewhere, in the chaos and adrenaline, the pack had slipped away. He looked up, his eyes a little wider now.

“You called the spider a shadow? Why?” asked Alexa, her brow furrowed. “Will my Domain look like that too?” she added, curiosity laced with a hint of concern.

“And you still haven’t really explained what a Domain is,” Peter chimed in, pressing for answers.

“Oh, dear children,” came the patient, almost playful reply. “In a way, everything in this world is a shadow. Merely a reflection of what exists on your side—altered by the way your world sees and feels it. How it’s changed… well, I’ll leave that for you to discover.”

Peter exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed with the evasive answer.

“As for the Domain,” the voice continued, “it is a physical space shaped by the soul. The material embodiment of the authority of the one who manifests it. At the heart of every Domain lies the Core—a crystalline heart, pulsing with the light of change. Your ancestors once called this light Lux Mentis, Lumen Ideaa, or phos ideas. It cannot be seen in the ordinary way, and yet it casts shadows of its own—shadows that stir and shape the Domain itself. This crystal heart is bound to the soul of the one who has claimed the Domain… and in return, it grants them the power to wield their talents.” Phillip spun on his heel and locked his gaze with Alexa’s, his eyes deep and unwavering. “In your case, young lady,” he said, his voice rich with both humor and a touch of mystery, “judging by the talent you've already shown, I think the authority you'll one day wield will certainly have little to do with shattered mirrors.” He stepped back, fluidly spinning in a dramatic pirouette, then smirked, a devilish gleam in his eyes. With a sweep of his hands, he gestured to the world around them, as if commanding it to listen. “Oh, no, no, no. I believe your Domain will bring a magnificent transformation to this dreary autumn scene.”

Alexa:

Alexa was taken aback by the color of Phillip's eyes. They were a deep, hypnotic amber, glowing with an inner light that seemed to shift and pulse like molten gold. It was as if the warm, golden glow from the glass house had somehow taken residence in his gaze, swirling with an otherworldly depth. But before she could fully take them in, Phillip moved away so swiftly that she couldn’t examine them any further.

“Oh, no, no, no. I believe your Domain will bring a magnificent transformation to this dreary autumn scene.” He said. "I believe we’ve reached our destination," added soon after, his voice smooth, as he halted in front of Alexa’s gate. "I think it’s best if we part ways here, but don't waste your tears on me. I’ll be eagerly awaiting your return."

To Alexa, Phillip was a perplexing enigma. His words made sense, at least in the twisted, dreamlike logic of this world, but something about him unsettled her. There was an odd pull to his presence, like the calm before a storm. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Peter’s voice.

"If we manage to get out of here, we’re definitely not coming back." Peter’s tone was firm, resolute, but Alexa could feel the weight of uncertainty in his words. Deep down, she knew her own feelings didn’t align with his. There was something about this place, something about the mystery that called to her.

"Thank you for your help, Phillip." Alexa’s voice was quiet but sincere, as she gave him a respectful nod. Phillip responded with a graceful bow, a smile that barely touched his eyes, and without another word, he turned and walked down the street. Alexa watched him disappear into the night, her gaze lingering for just a moment too long. Peter, on the other hand, followed him with his eyes, his brow furrowing.

"I don’t trust him," Peter said, his voice low, tinged with an edge of frustration. "I hope we never see him again."

Alexa nodded, but there was a quiet flicker of doubt in her chest, a feeling that gnawed at her. Was it trust she felt? Or something else entirely? She wasn’t sure.

"Are you ok?" Peter asked, his voice softer now, filled with a tenderness that pulled her from her thoughts. The change in his tone was unmistakable, and Alexa could feel the weight of his concern in the air between them.

"Yeah, come on Pete, no need to drag your feet," Alexa said confidently. This time, she didn’t feel the same fear tied to her room. Peter led the way, and she followed closely behind as they ascended the stairs toward her room.

The room welcomed them back with a strange calm, as if it had been waiting for their return. The colors that filled the air seemed to ripple in response to their presence, the atmosphere charged with a subtle electricity. Alexa stood at the threshold for a moment, her hand hovering just above the doorframe, as if testing the air—feeling the pulse of the room, sensing the subtle hum that seemed to breathe with her.

Peter, who had stepped in ahead of her, lingered just a few paces beyond, his eyes scanning the space with the same awe as before. But Alexa knew the difference this time. There was something different about the room now, something that had shifted in her absence. The walls, the sculptures, the swirling clouds—they all seemed to be waiting. Waiting for her.

"Are you ready, Lex?" Peter's voice was soft, almost a whisper, carrying an unspoken question. A question not just about this place, but about her. About the responsibility that was slowly becoming more tangible.

Alexa didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze was already pulled to the center of the room, to the circle of easels, to the void behind them. It was as if an invisible thread tugged at her, beckoning her toward the heart of her domain. The room had always been her creation, her imagination brought to life—but now, it felt like something more. Like the room was not just a product of her mind, but a living, breathing extension of her very soul. And the place where her mind, her heart, and her dreams met—the center—was calling her.

With a breath, Alexa took a step forward. Then another. Her feet moved almost involuntarily, as if guided by the silent force of the room itself. The closer she got to the void behind the easels, the more the room seemed to ripple, to shift, to expand and contract in rhythm with her movements. Her pulse quickened, heart thumping in her chest, but it was not fear. No, it was something else. Something deep, something ancient. It was recognition.

As she reached the center of the circle, the void before her seemed to breathe with her, its dark depths pulling her in, an abyss that felt as though it had been waiting for her. It was not cold. It was not terrifying. Instead, it was an invitation. An invitation to claim what was already hers, to take Domain over what had always belonged to her.

Then, from the very heart of the void, a light began to emerge. At first, it was small—barely a flicker, a glimmer—but then it grew, its brilliance expanding outward in a slow, steady pulse. Alexa stopped in her tracks as a shape began to form before her. A crystal heart, shining with all the colors of the spectrum. It floated weightlessly, suspended in midair, but its light was unlike anything Alexa had ever seen. It pulsed in time with her own heartbeat, as if the two were connected—two hearts, one light, beating in perfect harmony.

The crystal heart shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow, casting reflections of light that danced across the room. The colors shifted in a breathtaking kaleidoscope, washing over every surface, each hue seeming to hold a life of its own. The heart felt alive, a living manifestation of her power, of her imagination, of her art. She could feel its energy filling the space, wrapping around her, becoming part of her.

And then, something incredible happened. As the heart pulsed, Alexa felt something inside her stir—a deep, primal connection to the light, to the very essence of creation. It wasn’t just her power—it was the power of all art, all imagination, all the stories yet to be told. The heart was hers, and she was its. She could feel it inside her, the beat of its rhythm aligning with her own. It was as though the very core of her being had been drawn into the light, joining with it, becoming one.

For a moment, she felt overwhelmed. The weight of it all—the responsibility, the potential, the infinite possibilities—pressed down on her like a heavy cloak. Her breath caught, and her hands trembled. The room, the art, the power—it all felt so… vast. So much to hold, so much to control.

But then, slowly, gently, the weight of it began to settle. She inhaled deeply, the air thick with the scent of oil paints, clay, and the hum of creation. The energy that had felt so heavy a moment before now felt like something she could wield, something she could shape. The colors that swirled around her, the sculptures frozen in time, the clouds drifting above—all of it was hers to command. Her authority, once a distant thought, now felt real, solid, undeniable.

Alexa closed her eyes, letting the pulse of the heart fill her completely. She was not just the creator of this world—she was its ruler. She was the dreamer, the artist, the storyteller, and the one who would give form to the infinite.

Peter watched in silence as the light enveloped her, his gaze full of awe and something else—something like pride, but also something more. Something that spoke of the vastness of what Alexa had just begun to accept.

“Lex…” His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything he felt.

She opened her eyes, the crystal heart still glowing in the center of her room, its light casting long shadows on the walls. Her expression was no longer uncertain. No longer hesitant. She was not just standing in her room—she was standing in her Domain.

With a deep breath, she stepped forward, the weight of her authority no longer something to fear, but something to embrace. Her room, her Domain, was hers—and she was ready to lead it. Ready to create, to shape, to become.

Her hand reached out, touching the crystal heart, and in that moment, the entire room seemed to come alive in response. The colors, the shapes, the art—they were all hers to command. And she, for the first time, truly understood what it meant to be the creator.

To be the one who holds Domain over imagination itself.

“What now?” Peter asked.

Alexa's fingers brushed the cool, smooth wood of one of the easels. It was as though the mere touch of it unlocked something within her. She could feel the pulse of the room, the heartbeat of creation, intensify beneath her fingertips. The canvas on the easel seemed to respond, ripples of light crossing its surface as if it too acknowledged her presence, her dominion.

Without thinking, she reached for the brush, it felt weightless in her hand, as though the very essence of it had been designed for this moment. Her hand moved as if guided by instinct, sweeping the brush across the canvas. The painting of the dragon that had once danced across the frame began to melt away, its form dissolving into the ether as if it had never existed. The brush glided effortlessly, erasing the vibrant, swirling beast, leaving nothing but an empty, pristine expanse of white canvas behind. The dragon, once full of life, was now gone. Just a blank canvas, waiting to be filled again.

The air shifted around her. The room seemed to watch in quiet anticipation as Alexa took a step back, her eyes scanning the blank space. She needed more. Something deeper. Her mind flicked through the scenes of her imagination, yet it was something simpler that caught her attention—something real, something grounded in the world beyond this space.

With a quiet hum, she moved to the side, where a station lay prepared, waiting for her to set it in motion. She set up the easel in front of her, neatly arranging the tools she would need—brushes in all sizes, vials of vibrant pigments, paints that shimmered like liquid starlight, her sketchbook at a side. As the familiar, tactile motions of preparation grounded her, Alexa felt a sense of calm settle over her. Her gaze turned back to the sketchbook she had left open earlier on a low table.

The pages fluttered as she opened it to the scene she had drawn earlier—a simple, intimate sketch of her and Peter, side by side, looking out over the vast black sky from the window of her room. The sky was serene, filled with the soft glow of the moon, clouds drifting lazily across the horizon, untouched by the chaos of the room around them.

She smiled at the memory, and without hesitation, she dipped her brush into the paint. The pigments swirled together in a burst of color, her hand moving with practiced ease. Her mind focused entirely on the task at hand, as she began to recreate the scene from her sketchbook on the blank canvas before her. Each stroke brought the world outside her room to life—the gentle curvature of the clouds, the way the light touched the edges of the window frame, the quiet serenity of the moment shared between them. She painted with every ounce of her being, every detail, down to the way the air seemed to hum with peace in the real world.

She lost herself in the act of creation, completely consumed by the beauty of the scene she was recreating. The world outside—the normal world—was still real, even here, in her dominion. And in this moment, she realized something: the room, her art, her domain, was not about creating just the extraordinary. It was also about capturing the beauty of the ordinary. The moments of stillness, the simple pleasures of existing in the world beyond the art.

Her brush moved faster now, her heart beating in time with the strokes. She painted the delicate hues of the sky, the soft texture of the clouds, the quiet reflection of light in the room. The scene was becoming tangible, a living echo of reality. She could almost hear the quiet hum of the world beyond, feel the cool air from the open window as if she were truly there.

When she finished, the canvas shimmered with a quiet glow, the paints still wet and vibrant, as if they had just been touched by the light of creation itself. Alexa stepped back, admiring the piece. It was perfect, a faithful reflection of the scene from her sketchbook—the moment when she and Peter had shared the simple joy of watching the sky together.

But she wasn’t finished.

She turned to Peter, her eyes gleaming with something new, something that was no longer uncertain or hesitant. She extended her hand toward him, an invitation without words. Her heart raced as she waited for him to accept, her pulse echoing in the quiet of the room.

Peter looked at her, his gaze soft, understanding. Without hesitation, he reached for her hand, his fingers curling around hers. A moment of silent understanding passed between them, a shared connection that transcended the space they were in.

With her hand still held firmly in his, Alexa reached toward the canvas. She placed her palm on the painted sky, feeling the warmth of the paint still fresh beneath her touch. The moment she made contact, the air in the room seemed to crackle with energy. The colors on the canvas swirled, blending together in a cascade of light, and in that instant, the room seemed to ripple around them.

Peter’s fingers tightened around hers as the room seemed to fold in on itself. The edges of the walls blurred, the air thickened, and the entire space shuddered with the power of creation. There was a sensation of being pulled, a gravity that tugged them toward the canvas. And then, as if by magic, they were both gone.

In the blink of an eye, the room was no longer the vast, surreal landscape of Alexa’s Domain. They stood instead in her room—the normal world, grounded and familiar. The walls were plain and simple, the air cool and uncharged. The soft hum of the outside world seeped through the window, the distant sounds of life beyond the canvas now tangible again.

Alexa stood still for a moment, taking it all in. The room was as it should be—real, unchanged, and yet, somehow, altered. The familiar had a new resonance, as though her connection to it had shifted, deepened. She squeezed Peter’s hand, and for the first time, she felt truly at peace with the balance she had found between her domain and the world beyond it.

“That has been exhausting,” she said, her voice a soft breath in the calm of the room.

And Peter, with a smile, simply nodded. “It was magical, Lex. I still feel a little dizzy, though.”

Alexa noticed that their arrival had caused a bit of a mess. The window had opened just as it was painted, and the night breeze had scattered her sketches all over the room.

“We came in like a big bang!” she said cheerfully.

“Looks like we’ll need to clean this up.” Peter added.

Emily and Marcus May:

Emily and Marcus sat in the living room, the clock ticking steadily toward 8 p.m. By this time, they’d already expected Alexa to be home after her meeting with Peter, but the hours had passed, and still no sign of her. At first, they thought it was just a delay, maybe some conversation that went longer than expected. But as the evening wore on, a subtle anxiety began to gnaw at them.

By 8:30 p.m., they decided to reach out. Marcus picked up the phone and dialed Julia, Peter’s mother, hoping for some news.

"Has Peter come home? Is Alexa with him?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. Julia, however, seemed equally unaware of their whereabouts. Alexa hadn’t returned, and Peter wasn’t home either. That did little to ease their growing concern.

The minutes turned to hours, and by 10 p.m., the worry started to transform into frustration. They had called, they had checked, and now it was getting late. Their daughter was nowhere to be found, and there was still no word from her. Both parents tried to call her, but her phone had been turned off. Their patience was wearing thin.

By 1 a.m., Emily and Marcus had reached their breaking point. They had both tried to stay calm, but it was difficult when there were no answers. After some angry words, they finally went to bed, exhausted and irritated. It wasn’t like Alexa to behave this way. She knew how to communicate when plans changed. This silence didn’t sit well with them, and they couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

At around 3 a.m., they were jolted awake by a commotion coming from Alexa’s room. Blinking in the dark, Marcus groggily pulled himself out of bed. Emily followed, equally disoriented but alert, as the sound of voices reached their ears—Alexa’s and Peter’s, unmistakable now.

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"That has been exhausting," Alexa’s voice, tired but happy, echoed through the hallway.

Peter responded with a light-hearted chuckle, "It was magical, Lex. I still feel a little dizzy, though."

Emily and Marcus exchanged confused glances, still in the haze of sleep. They crept closer to Alexa’s room, hearing snippets of their conversation drifting from within.

"...came in like a big bang!" Alexa’s voice, now cheerful, rang out, almost playful.

“Looks like we’ll need to clean this up,” Peter added, sounding equally lighthearted.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Emily and Marcus stood there, trying to piece it together in their foggy minds. But what they heard—the tone, the intimacy of their words—made them jump to conclusions. It was the way they spoke to each other, the comfort, the closeness. They assumed, that something more was happening between the two.

The parents lingered in the hallway, uncertain of what to do next, their minds racing with thoughts they hadn't expected, as the sounds inside the room continued. It was a mix of relief that Alexa was finally home but also confusion, and unspoken worry, over what had truly transpired while they were apart.

As the sounds of commotion from inside Alexa's room continued, Emily and Marcus exchanged a brief, uneasy glance. The confusion was still lingering in their minds, but the implications of what they’d just overheard were starting to settle in.

Marcus lowered his voice, trying to keep the conversation between them as they stood frozen in the hallway. “Do you think… do you think they’re—”

Emily’s eyes widened slightly, and she placed a hand on his arm, her voice a whisper. “It’s hard to tell, Marcus. I mean, they were acting so comfortable with each other. Do you think… it’s really happening?”

Marcus sighed, glancing towards the door. “I don’t know. But it sounds like they’ve been through something... together. Maybe it’s not what we thought... but, you know, it didn’t sound like just a casual conversation.”

Emily shook her head, her thoughts a tangle of worry and confusion. “I never thought she’d—" She paused, then added softly, “Peter’s a good kid, though, right?”

“Yeah, but still… I just didn’t expect this so soon. She’s our little girl.” His voice cracked slightly, the weight of it all pressing on him. “You think we should, uh… talk to her about it?”

Emily gave a small, weary nod. “I think so. We’ll have to. But not tonight, okay? Let’s just let them be. We don’t know everything yet.”

They stood there for a few moments more, unsure of what the morning would bring, or how to process the mix of relief and concern swirling between them. It was going to be a difficult conversation, one they weren't quite ready for.

Peter:

Peter glanced down at his phone, the screen lighting up with a buzz of incoming notifications. It was 3:37 AM. His heart sank as he saw the missed calls—first from Alexa’s parents, then from his own. The sheer number of them made him feel a pit grow in his stomach. He swiped through the notifications and his eyes widened at the missed texts too. Oh, we are so dead, he thought, a wave of dread washing over him.

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. Turning to Alexa, he gave her a sheepish look. “I... I need to get home. If I don’t, I’m grounded for life,” he said, his voice tinged with panic. The weight of the situation was starting to hit him now, and he could feel the clock ticking—his parents would be absolutely furious. “I’ll probably get a lecture, or worse...”

He tried to muster a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“We can show them the photos and explain what really happened,” Alexa suggested, pulling out her phone and showing Peter that the photos were still there, safe.

“Okay, send them to me now, just in case,” Peter replied, taking a deep breath, as if the words he was about to say had been weighing on him for a while. “Lex, don’t get me wrong, everything that happened was... crazy, amazing, and incredible, but I don’t want to relive it. So, if we can handle this without showing anyone the photos, I’d really appreciate it.”

Alexa looked at him, her expression visibly deflated by his words. She hadn’t expected that response. “I get it, Pete,” she said softly, her voice quieter now, as if she were trying to process everything. “So, what do we tell our parents then?”

“Let’s keep the lying to a minimum,” Peter said, trying to sound confident. “It’ll be easier to stick to one version that way.”

Alexa nodded.

“We went to the abandoned house and did a deep exploration. We silenced our phones so they wouldn’t go off during our totally illegal investigation, and we forgot to turn them back on.”

“My parents won’t believe I forgot to turn it back on for hours,” Alexa cut in.

“They will,” Peter countered, “if you tell them that during the exploration, an old mirror broke and cut my leg, and you had to take me to Evan because—thanks to his parents—he knows how to handle wounds. And before you ask, yes, I’ll text Evan in a second and get him to cover for me.”

“Alright, but that still doesn’t explain how much time we were gone,” Alexa pointed out, clearly still not thrilled with the excuse.

“We’ll say Evan patched me up, we told him everything we saw in the abandoned house, and then we came back here. I walked you home, and then I left. I think we can make that work.”

Even Peter didn’t sound entirely convinced, but it was the best he could come up with.

“Fine, Pete. Go home. I’ll tell my parents exactly what we agreed on tomorrow,” Alexa said, walking over to the window they had closed during cleanup and opening it for him. She moved aside the Spider-Slayer that had been placed against the wall and hid it under her bed for good measure.

Peter gave her a tight hug, one that lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, then slipped out the window, lowering himself carefully down to the porch roof. Once he dropped into the yard, he cast one last glance back at her, then turned and headed off toward his house, the night cool and silent around him.

As Peter walked briskly down the quiet street, the adrenaline of the night still buzzing faintly in his veins, he pulled out his phone and opened a chat with Evan. His fingers hovered for a second before he started typing.

Hey, need a solid favor. Can you cover for me?

Story is: I cut my leg exploring the abandoned house with Lex, she brought me to you for help, you patched me up. We told you everything, then I walked her home. Deal?

He stared at the message for a second, then added:

Promise it’ll make sense later. I owe you. Big time.

He hit send and sighed, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. One lie to cover a hundred truths.

Some time passed as Peter made his way through the hushed streets. The weight of everything that had happened pressed heavily on his shoulders, and each step felt heavier than the last.

As Peter finally reached the front gate of his house, he noticed that the porch light was still on.

He opened the front door as quietly as he could, hoping—foolishly—that he might slip inside unnoticed. But there, sitting in the armchair of the dimly lit living room, was his father, Thomas. Awake. Waiting.

Thomas stood the moment he saw his son, tension radiating from every line in his body.

“Peter,” he said, his voice a quiet storm. “Where the hell have you been?”

Peter winced. “I’m sorry, Dad. Really. I should’ve called.”

“Well, you didn’t.”

“I know. It’s just—Lex and I were exploring that abandoned house at the end of her street. I know, I know how that sounds. We didn’t want our phones going off and drawing attention, so we silenced them, and then... I ended up cutting my leg on some broken glass. Nothing serious,” he added quickly, seeing his dad’s eyes widen.

Thomas was already moving forward. “Let me see.”

Peter sat on the edge of the couch and rolled up his pant leg. The cuts were shallow but messy, crusted with dried blood around the edges. They stung beneath the fabric of the bandages, though he had barely noticed the pain until now.

Thomas crouched, inspecting the wound, his jaw tight. “Christ, Peter. You should’ve come home right away. We didn’t know if you were hurt or lost or—” He stopped himself, took a breath. “Your mother couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t either.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said again, quieter this time.

Thomas helped him up gently and placed a steadying hand on his back. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

Together, they made their way upstairs. Once in his room, Peter collapsed onto the mattress without even pulling off his shoes. His limbs felt like stone, his head full of fog.

Thomas paused at the door, his voice softer now. “Don’t ever scare us like that again, son.”

“I won’t,” Peter murmured.

The door closed with a quiet click, and within seconds, Peter was fast asleep, the echoes of another world still trailing through his dreams.

The alarm yanked him out of sleep what felt like only seconds after his head had hit the pillow. Its shrill buzz cut through the haze of dreams like a blade. Groaning, Peter reached for his phone, squinting against the screen’s glow.

6:30 a.m.

He let his head fall back against the pillow, dragging a hand down his face.

No rest for the wicked, he thought bitterly.

His body ached in places he didn’t know could ache, and his leg throbbed dully under the bandage. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, the weight of exhaustion still heavy on his chest. But the world hadn’t stopped spinning just because he’d nearly been devoured by a void of imagination. School still waited.

With a sigh, he pushed himself up. Time to get ready.

Peter stood in front of his closet, the morning light casting soft lines across the floor. He reached inside and carefully pulled out the silver-toned baseball jersey and cap—the ones that shimmered faintly with a strange, metallic sheen now that he noticed it under normal light. They looked more like relics from another world than pieces of his everyday life. A shiver ran down his spine as he folded them neatly and placed them at the back of his closet, out of sight but not out of mind. He paused for a moment, staring at them, then shut the door with a quiet click.

The bathroom mirror greeted him with a groggy, disheveled version of himself. He peeled off his shirt and gingerly unwrapped the bandage from his leg, inspecting the thin, clean cut across his shin. It stung under the running water, but the warmth of the shower helped ease some of the stiffness in his muscles. He let the water wash over him, trying to shake off the weight of the night before—but even as he scrubbed soap across his skin, a part of him knew he’d never be able to completely rinse it away.

Once dressed in jeans and a soft flannel shirt, hair still damp and tousled, Peter made his way downstairs.

The smell of coffee and toast drifted through the house like a welcome spell. His dad, Thomas, sat at the end of the table, while his mom, Julia, sipped her tea, already dressed for the day in a crisp blouse and cardigan. Across from them sat Clara—his younger sister—already halfway through a bowl of cereal, her brown ponytail bobbing as she scrolled through her phone.

She glanced up at him, chewing. “Morning, zombie boy.”

Peter offered her a lopsided smile and sank into the empty chair beside her.

Julia didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. One glance over her mug, that slow, pointed raise of her eyebrow, and he felt like he was back in the hot seat. The Look. It carried every ounce of disappointment, relief, and maternal interrogation wrapped into one silent moment.

He nodded sheepishly in return, accepting it without protest.

No one brought up the night before. No lectures. No demands. Just the quiet scrape of toast on plates and the sound of Clara humming under her breath.

And for now, Peter was grateful.

As Peter slowly chewed through a piece of toast, he felt the familiar buzz of his phone in his pocket. He slid it out under the table, casting a quick glance at his parents—neither seemed to notice, or care enough to stop him. Julia was now fully engrossed in an article on her tablet, while Thomas stood by the window, coffee in hand, gazing outside.

A message from Evan lit up the screen.

Evan: Lex’s mom already called mine to confirm the story. I told her you were here last night and that I patched you up. All good on my end. You owe me, though..

Peter leaned back slightly, letting his head tip toward the ceiling for a second before texting back.

Peter: You’re a legend. I seriously owe you.

Peter smirked, his thumb hovering over the screen, he quickly typed a message to Alexa, his fingers moving faster than usual as his thoughts raced through his head.

Peter: Hey, is everything okay on your end?

He stared at the screen, waiting for the three little dots to appear, signaling her reply. A minute passed. Then two. Finally, his phone buzzed with her response.

Alexa: Yeah, they bought the story. But... Peter, they think we’re... you know... having sex.

Peter blinked, his heart skipping a beat. He quickly typed a reply, his face flushing slightly at the thought.

Peter: Wait, what? How do they think that?

Alexa: They say they heard us talking dirty to each other last night and just left.

Peter rubbed his temples, groaning quietly to himself. This was not what he'd signed up for.

Peter: Great. Just what I needed. Do you think we should tell them the truth?

Alexa: Not yet. Let them think what they want. I’m honestly too tired to deal with the awkwardness right now.

Peter: Yeah, me too. But that explains why my mom didn’t say anything this morning.

Alexa: Fair enough. I’m sorry for this mess. Fortunately, my brother is out of the loop.

Peter let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. This indeed was a mess.

Alexa: Let’s meet halfway.

Peter: K.

Peter finished his breakfast; after last night, he needed all the nutrition he could get. He grabbed his bag from the hallway, the weight of it a small comfort as he adjusted the strap over his shoulder. He glanced at the kitchen, where his family was still seated, finishing breakfast. He could feel his mother’s eyes on him even before he turned to face her.

“Have a good day, Pete,” his father said, his voice warm, though it carried a hint of lingering concern.

Peter nodded quickly, not trusting himself to speak. He muttered a distracted, “Yeah, you too,” before turning to make his escape.

Clara was already half out the door, her ponytail bouncing as she rushed off to meet her friends. Peter barely noticed her as he headed for the front door.

His mother, however, still lingered at the table, her gaze sharp and unwavering. She didn’t say anything, but Peter felt the weight of her stare on his back as he stepped out into the cool morning air. He couldn’t help but feel that her silence spoke volumes, but he refused to meet her eyes again. He had to get out of there before she said anything.

Outside, the air was crisp, the early morning stillness broken only by the distant hum of cars and the chirping of birds. Peter exhaled, his breath visible in the cool air, and started down the street.

He didn’t want to think about the awkwardness of the past night or his mother’s accusing looks.

He quickened his pace, hoping to meet Lex soon and resume his normal morning routine.

As he neared their meeting spot—an old oak tree by the corner of the street, just a few yards away from the abandoned house—he spotted her standing there, looking more relaxed than he’d seen her in days. Her dark hair fluttered slightly in the breeze, and a faint smile appeared on her lips as she spotted him approaching.

Peter walked up to her, his heart lightening just a little at the sight of her. "Hey," he said quietly, leaning against the tree beside her. "You good?"

Alexa nodded, her smile widening as she shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I think we're in the clear—for now."

Peter sighed, looking down at his shoes for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "I hope so. My mom's been giving me 'the look' all morning."

Alexa laughed softly, the sound easing the tension in his chest. "Mine too. Honestly, I think they’re just relieved we’re not, you know, really in trouble."

Peter grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, let’s keep it that way. I’m not sure I can survive the 'talk' from my mom."

They shared a brief, silent moment of understanding, both of them trying to shake off the weirdness of the situation.

"Alright, let’s get to school," Peter said after a pause, motioning ahead. "Hopefully the day is less dramatic than last night."

Alexa rolled her eyes playfully, then nodded. "Let’s hope so."

Then Peter noticed something had changed. Alexa looked different, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what exactly had shifted.

“Did you notice?” she asked, puckering her lips as though about to kiss, before bursting into laughter. “I wanted to see if my talents work here too,” she said quietly. “I used lipstick to plump my lips— as you can see, makeup is an art too!” She smiled and spun around on her heel. “Here’s the new me.”

Peter grabbed her chin and pulled her closer, studying her lips intently. “Lex, they don’t just look bigger, they are bigger.” He touched them gently with his finger and then let go of her, taking a step back.

“Hey, hey, no getting too familiar, Pete!” she joked, puffing her chest out like a peacock. “Looks like I can change myself and the world here too.”

Peter stood there, confused. On one hand, he was happy for his friend, that something amazing had happened to her. But on the other, he had hoped that whatever they had encountered on the other side would remain nothing more than a bad dream that would never return. Now he knew for certain it wouldn’t be that simple.

"Good for you, Lex," he said, smiling and hoping his friend wouldn't notice the hint of disappointment in his eyes.

A few minutes later, they reached the school, and as soon as they stepped through the entrance, Evan appeared out of nowhere, quickly pulling them aside with a serious expression plastered on his face.

"Alright, what the hell happened last night?" he asked, his voice carrying a mix of concern and impatience. His arms were crossed, and he looked at both of them expectantly, demanding answers. "You two disappear for hours, your phones go dead, and now you're acting like nothing happened? You owe me an explanation."

Peter exchanged a glance with Alexa, who simply shrugged, clearly not interested in divulging any details. She shot Peter a silent look, her eyes saying everything he needed to know: they weren’t about to spill everything.

Peter took a deep breath, leaning against the wall with a casual air that didn’t match the tension building up. "Evan, it’s really not that complicated," he said, trying to downplay the situation. "We got caught up in something, it was a weird night, but we’re fine now. That’s all you need to know."

Evan didn’t look convinced. His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, not backing down. "I’m serious, Pete," he insisted, his voice firm. "You don’t just vanish like that without anyone worrying. If something happened, I deserve to know. I’m not buying the ‘we’re fine now’ act."

Alexa rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, clearly growing tired of the interrogation. "Honestly, Evan," she said, her tone a little sharp. "It's our business. We’re not obligated to tell you everything. Trust us, okay?"

Evan’s face showed a flicker of frustration. "I’m your friend, Lex. I just want to know if you’re both alright. I’m not asking for every little detail, just—"

Peter cut him off, his patience wearing thin. " Evan, seriously, we’re not going to explain everything. It’s a secret for now, and you’re just going to have to deal with that. I told you that I owe you, but an explanation is not what I meant, okay?" He gave Evan a look that was firm but not unkind, hoping it would put an end to the questioning.

Evan stared at them both for a moment, clearly still not satisfied, but something in their expressions made him realize they weren’t going to budge. With a frustrated sigh, he threw his hands up in the air. "Fine, fine," he muttered. "You two are impossible. But don’t think I won’t be keeping my eye on you. If something’s up, I’m gonna find out eventually."

Peter smirked a little, relieved that the confrontation was over, but Alexa seemed unfazed. "Do whatever you want, Evan," she said with a shrug. "We’re fine, okay?"

Evan huffed, but after a moment, he relented. "Alright, I get it. For now," he said, clearly still curious but no longer pressing. "Just... be careful, alright?"

With a final, somewhat reluctant glance, Evan turned and walked off, still muttering to himself, but Peter and Alexa both let out a quiet sigh of relief. They had successfully kept their secret for the time being, but Peter knew it wouldn’t be long before Evan would start digging again.

As Peter and Alexa walked toward their first class, the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind them made them both glance over their shoulders. It was Hannah Lin and Sophie Carter.

Hannah, with her sharp eyes and quick wit, was the first to notice. "Wait a second," she said, stopping in her tracks for a moment. Her gaze zeroed in on Alexa’s lips. "Did you, like, get lip injections or something? Your lips look—different."

Sophie leaned in to get a better look. "Yeah, they look fuller. You totally did something, didn’t you?"

Alexa froze for a moment, her face flushing. She hadn’t expected the change in her appearance to be so obvious—but of course to tchem it was. She quickly glanced at Peter, her eyes wide with uncertainty. Peter raised an eyebrow, feeling the tension in the air.

"Um, no," Alexa stammered, clearly flustered by the attention. She quickly lifted a hand to her lips, trying to cover them as if she could hide what was now so obvious. "It’s nothing, really."

Hannah’s smirk deepened as she crossed her arms. "Come on, Lex. Don’t tell me you’re not trying to look all pouty and, like, sexy or something. I mean, it’s a bold look for you."

Before Alexa could say anything more, Peter noticed something strange. He saw Alexa's lips—just moments ago noticeably fuller—starting to shrink back to their normal size, as if the change was disappearing in front of his eyes. It happened so quickly that Peter thought he might be imagining it. One moment, Alexa’s lips were plump, and the next, they were back to how they had always been.

Hannah’s teasing smile faltered, and Sophie—who had been inspecting Alexa’s lips like she was a specimen—suddenly dropped the topic completely. It was as though the whole conversation had never happened.

“Whatever,” Hannah said with a shrug, waving off the subject like it was nothing. Sophie followed her lead, her gaze flicking away from Alexa’s face as though it never even registered.

“Yeah, I guess we were just seeing things,” Sophie added, her voice casual and dismissive, completely oblivious to the strange moment that had just passed between them.

Peter couldn’t help but feel a pang of confusion as he watched. They were acting like nothing had happened. Like the sudden change in Alexa’s appearance hadn’t even been there. But he knew what he had seen—he knew her lips had been bigger, and now they were back to normal. It was like some kind of trick had been played on their perception, but he wasn’t sure who or what was responsible for it.

Alexa, for her part, seemed completely unaware. She stood there, her brow furrowed, as Hannah and Sophie moved on without a second thought, talking about something else entirely.

"Alright, well, I guess we’ll talk later, Alexa," Hannah said breezily, completely uninterested now.

Sophie nodded, her eyes drifting off as if the topic was already forgotten. And with that, the two girls wandered off into the crowd, the conversation completely dropping from their minds. Peter felt a strange weight in the air. The whole thing felt off, like something had just shifted and no one but him and Alexa could feel it.

As the girls disappeared, Alexa blinked, clearly unsettled. She didn’t understand what had just happened. Peter could see that much in her expression.

“Did you notice that?” Peter asked, leaning in closer to her, his voice low. He needed to make sure she saw it too.

“Notice what?” Alexa replied, a confused frown on her face. “That they were acting weird about my lips?”

Peter nodded, his brow furrowed. "Yeah. Your lips were bigger just a second ago, and then suddenly, they’re back to normal. Just like that."

Alexa’s hand instinctively touched her lips, her fingers brushing over them as if testing to see if he was right. “What? No way.”

Peter watched her closely, gauging her reaction. She didn’t seem to grasp what had just happened, and it hit him that maybe she hadn’t even noticed the shift herself. “Yeah, they were. And now they’re… well, normal again.”

Alexa looked around, probably expecting someone else to acknowledge what had just happened, but no one seemed to remember anything. The girls had moved on so quickly, as if the whole thing had never even happened.

"That's... weird," Alexa said, still looking a little confused. "I didn’t even notice. I mean, I was just talking to them, and it seemed like everything was fine. I just felt like... I don’t know how to describe it. A slight push?"

Peter paused, watching her closely. "Yeah, and that's the thing. No one noticed. No one cares. It’s like it never even happened."

Peter nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the strangeness settle on him. “Exactly. It's like the whole world just adjusted. But you and I, Lex—we’re the only ones who can still feel it.”

Alexa tilted her head slightly, still trying to make sense of it all. “So... what does that mean?”

Peter hesitated for a moment. He didn’t have an answer. He had no idea what it all meant, or what kind of power they were dealing with. But something was happening, something neither of them could control.

The rest of the school day dragged on for Peter, each passing hour filled with the usual monotony, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier—about Alexa’s lips changing right in front of him, about how the girls had noticed it for a second and then completely dropped the topic, acting as if nothing had ever happened. It was almost like a memory lapse, or like someone had hit a reset button, and everything was wiped clean from their minds.

Throughout the day, he kept an eye on Hannah and Sophie, hoping they might bring up the bizarre exchange. He found himself half-expecting one of them to whisper something to the other, to laugh about the way Alexa’s lips had been bigger, or maybe even to ask her about it again. But no, nothing. They didn’t even glance in her direction in the same way they had earlier. The subject was never mentioned again.

In class, when Hannah and Sophie were seated nearby, Peter felt a slight tension in the air, like he was waiting for something to break through, for someone to acknowledge the strange thing they’d all experienced together. But nothing. The conversation between the girls was mundane, revolving around homework and the latest gossip. If there was any lingering curiosity or thought about Alexa’s lips, they kept it to themselves. It was as if they’d forgotten that it ever happened at all.

Later tthat day, Peter found himself in a conversation with Hannah when she mentioned something trivial about a recent test, but he couldn’t shake the oddness of the situation. His curiosity got the best of him.

“Hey, uh... so this morning... with Alexa’s lips…” he started, trying to sound casual but not quite managing it.

Hannah raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “What about them?”

Peter cleared his throat, trying to choose his words carefully. “Well, didn’t you notice anything... odd about them?”

Hannah looked at him blankly for a moment. “No? What do you mean? I didn’t even notice anything.”

Peter blinked, his mind racing. She was acting like it hadn’t happened at all. The change had been so noticeable to him, and yet, Hannah didn’t seem to remember it at all. He stared at her for a second longer, trying to piece it together.

“Oh, uh, never mind,” Peter said, waving his hand dismissively. “Just a weird thing I thought I saw earlier. I guess I was mistaken.”

Hannah gave him a small smile. “Yeah, must be. You’ve been acting weird today. Maybe you’re just tired or something.”

Peter forced a smile back, though his mind was still trying to make sense of everything. It was like the girls had completely forgotten the whole thing. They hadn’t even noticed Alexa’s lips changing back to normal. It was as if they had never been bigger at all.

When the bell rang for the next class, Peter glanced across the cafeteria at Alexa. She was talking to Sophie, her expression as normal as ever.

Later, as the school day wore on, Peter found himself walking past Alexa in the hallway. He caught her eye and stopped, making sure no one else was close by.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “I talked to Hannah about it.”

Alexa’s brow furrowed. “About what?”

“Your lips,” Peter said in a lowered voice. “I asked her if she noticed anything... unusual.”

She looked around briefly, making sure no one was listening. “And?”

“She didn’t even remember,” Peter muttered, shaking his head. “She acted like it never happened.”

Alexa seemed thoughtful for a moment, but then she shrugged. “Well, maybe they just didn’t care enough to notice. It’s not like I walked around announcing it to everyone.”

Peter didn’t respond immediately. He glanced at the other students around them. Everything felt too strange, too off-kilter.

"Or maybe they changed back exactly because they noticed it," he said finally, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling.

“What do you mean?” Alexa asked, looking at Peter with a raised brow, a bit confused but curious.

Peter took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “You walked around with changed lips all morning. Evan saw them, but didn’t really think anything of it, because... well, it’s Evan. I noticed, but I also know what happened in… that other world, so I figured your powers were still working,” he said slowly. "When Sophie and Hannah saw them, they knew something wasn’t right. Something that shouldn’t be possible. Maybe that’s why your magic stopped working?"

Alexa scratched the back of her head, thinking it through. “Maybe you’re right,” she said after a moment. “I’ll try something else when I get home and test your theory.”

Peter gave her a reassuring smile, his voice steady as he spoke. “Now that I know your world’s changed forever, I want to help you find answers to all the questions you have, Lex. I’m in this with you.”

She met his gaze, her expression lightening as she smiled back at him. “Thank you, Pete. I’ll be more subtle when testing my skills from now on. I don’t want to bring any more problems our way.”

Her eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, as though she was thinking about the unexpected weight of the situation. "I was just trying out the lipstick this morning—it seemed harmless, like an innocent little test. I thought it would be a perfect way to see what I could do here. But now I see that even small changes can have consequences."

Peter gave a small nod, understanding the weight of her words. "Yeah, I guess sometimes it’s the little things that make the biggest impact."

Alexa looked at him, the playful spark in her eyes returning. "I suppose I’ve got a lot to learn about this... ‘new me’." She flashed him a teasing grin, her usual confidence starting to resurface.

Peter smiled back, though there was still a lingering unease in his chest. It felt like they were only beginning to scratch the surface of what this new reality meant. But he was determined to be there for her. They both were facing this strange, unpredictable world together, and that was something Peter wasn’t going to back away from.

The rest of Peter's day felt like a blur of thoughts, but as soon as he entered the school’s swimming pool area, a sense of calm began to settle in. The air was thick with the smell of chlorine, but it was a comforting, familiar scent—one that reminded him of endless hours spent training, pushing his body to its limits.

He undressed quickly, pulling on his swim trunks, and took a moment to stand at the edge of the pool, the water glistening in the overhead lights. The sounds of his teammates chatting and splashing around seemed to fade into the background. All of the confusion and frustration of the day melted away in an instant.

Peter took a deep breath, his mind briefly flickering to the events with Alexa, the strange powers, and the feelings he was still trying to process. But as he dipped his toes into the water, a wave of tranquility washed over him. There was something about being in the pool, submerged in the water, that gave him a deep sense of peace he hadn’t felt all day.

As he slid into the cool embrace of the water, he let his body sink beneath the surface. The moment he submerged his head, everything outside of the water seemed to disappear. The sound of his own breathing, rhythmic and steady, was the only thing he could focus on. He pushed off from the wall and began swimming, each stroke cutting through the water effortlessly. His movements were fluid, almost automatic—no resistance, no friction. It was just him and the water, together as one. He understood the water, and it seemed to understand him in return.

The rhythmic swish of his arms and legs, the smooth glide of his body through the water, created a feeling of weightlessness. Every stroke seemed to release more of the tension in his muscles, every breath he took deepening his connection with the water. His mind, which had been plagued with questions, frustration, and confusion, felt clearer with each passing lap.

Peter’s movements grew more confident, more fluid, until he felt completely at ease, the water’s cool touch like a cleansing balm. It felt like the water was washing away all the uncertainty, all the pain, and all the doubts that had built up in his mind. Every breath he took felt like he was breathing in pure calm, letting go of everything he couldn’t control.

As he finished another lap, his body moving with ease, he realized that here, in the water, nothing mattered. No magic. No strange powers. No unanswered questions. It was just him, the water, and the steady rhythm of his movements. He felt at peace, finally able to breathe deeply, truly free from everything that had been weighing him down.

When he finally pushed himself out of the pool, water dripping from his hair and skin, he felt like a different person. Calm, centered, and ready to face whatever would come next. The chaos and confusion of the day seemed distant now, like a fading memory.

The rest of the practice passed by quickly, but Peter carried that sense of peace with him, knowing that, at least for a little while, he could find solace in the water.

Alexa:

Alexa lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling as the events of the day replayed in her mind. It had been a strange mix of wonder and unease.

She decided it was time for an experiment — something that would put Peter’s theory to the test.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and began scrolling through the photos she'd taken on the other side. The glass house shimmered on her screen like a memory caught in crystal. Then, the image of her mother's vase — delicate, intricate, impossibly perfect — appeared. A quiet breath escaped her lips. The stillness of the pictures contrasted with the whirlwind they had truly lived through, but now they were tools, keys to something deeper.

She took her phone and made her way downstairs. As usual, her mother was already deep in work, preparing for her lectures with students. Emily was typing, printing, reviewing tests and sorting through endless documents. Alexa quietly settled onto the sofa in her mother’s study, content to simply observe her in action. She loved watching her mother work — there was something both soothing and invigorating about it. Emily had a talent for turning chaos into order, a kind of personal alchemy that transformed a hurricane of paper and tasks into the precision of a Swiss watch.

“Oh! Ali, how long have you been sitting there?” Emily nearly jumped in her chair when she finally noticed her daughter.

“Not long, Mom. Just a moment.”

“If you came to talk about sex, now’s really not the time, sweetheart,” she said without looking up from her papers. “I’ve got a lot left to do — but tomorrow, I can explain everything you want to know.”

Alexa’s cheeks flushed crimson, but thankfully, her mother didn’t notice.

“No, Mom, don’t worry — I know everything I need to already.” She rushed the words, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Actually, I wanted to show you some photos I took yesterday. From my trip to that abandoned house. Would you mind taking a look?”

Emily sighed but gently set aside her work, moving over to the sofa beside her daughter. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s see your shots.”

Alexa smiled to herself. Her mother assumed she meant artistic compositions. She unlocked her phone, opened her gallery, and showed her the first image — the one where she stood beside her favorite vase. Emily took the phone, examining the photo for a moment… and then passed it back, her expression a little puzzled.

“To be honest, Ali, I’m not sure what you were trying to capture here. You said these were pictures from that old house, but this one’s just you, standing by our kitchen window.”

Alexa stared at the screen. The very same photo that had clearly shown her beside the intricate family heirloom now displayed only a simple image of her at the kitchen window. The vase was gone.

“You’re right. My mistake,” she said quietly, a pang of disappointment tugging at her chest. She already knew — her mother would never see the vase. Something in this world was watching, enforcing its rules, and it wouldn’t allow such things to bleed through.

She swiped to the next images — the glass garden, the strange gate — but her heart was no longer in it. And, just as she feared, as soon as Emily looked at the screen, the wonders vanished. Her mother saw only an old wrought-iron gate, a boring path, and Peter goofing around in the background.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Alexa thanked her mother, kissed her on the cheek, and returned to her room. She dropped back onto her bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, mind spinning with quiet frustration. The world was rewriting itself in front of her eyes — and no one but her seemed to notice. Alexa reached for her phone and opened her chat with Peter. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she started typing.

Alexa: Hey… something weird just happened.

A reply came almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting.

Peter: Define “weird” — weird by our new standards, or like, normal weird?

She cracked a small smile.

Alexa: I tried to show Mom the pictures from yesterday, as a test I mentioned earlier. The ones from the other side. The vase, the glass house… all of it.

Peter: And?

Alexa: They changed. Right there on my phone. Right in front of me. She saw a regular kitchen window. Just… me standing there. No vase. No anything.

There was a pause. She watched the three little dots blink for a while.

Peter: You’re saying the photos altered themselves?

Alexa: More like they got rewritten. Reality corrected them. Made them boring. Normal. Believable for her.

Peter: Damn.

Alexa: Do you still have the ones I sent you? The originals?

Peter: Yeah. Just checked. Still the same. Vase, garden, all of it.

Her heart skipped a beat — part relief, part dread. There was a difference. The truth was still out there, just hidden. Selective.

Alexa: It’s like… the world only lets people see what it wants them to see. Like it edits itself in real time to keep its secrets. It seems you were right about that.

Peter: Maybe, or maybe it’s something else. Please I know it is exciting for You, but it could be dangerous. Be careful Lex.

Alexa: I will Peter. Night!

Peter: Good night Picasso.

Lying on her bed, eyes locked on the ceiling—the same ceiling that, in that other world, had been a breathtaking canvas of shifting skies and dancing light, but here remained a blank, pale void—Alexa’s thoughts circled a single truth: she had to go back.

Back to that place.

Back to where the rules were different, and where reality seemed to breathe with intention.

She needed answers—needed to understand the forces now coursing through her, whispering at the edges of her mind, blooming in color at her fingertips.

And deep down, she still held onto the hope that Phillip would be there. The strange, serene guide. If anyone could help her make sense of this, it was him.

But one thing was clear. This time, Peter couldn’t come with her.

Alexa knew now what she hadn’t fully seen before—that Peter’s smiles in that strange, shifting world hadn’t been for himself, but for her. He had laughed, made jokes, and pushed forward not because he was unafraid, but because he wanted to keep her hopeful. She remembered how his eyes had lingered too long on shadows, how his hands had tensed even when his voice stayed light. He had been in awe of the place, that much was certain—awed by the impossible things they had witnessed, by the beauty that shimmered just beneath the danger—but also deeply afraid of it.

It wasn’t the kind of fear that made him want to run. It was the kind that rooted itself in his chest like a quiet, gnawing question: What if this goes wrong? Peter had always needed to understand things, to put the world into neat, manageable boxes. And that place had laughed at such ideas.

Now that they were back, she understood something else too—he appreciated the experience, maybe even treasured it in some quiet part of himself, but he would never choose to go back. Not if it meant risking their lives again. Not if it meant throwing themselves into another unknowable unknown.

Even that silly thing with the lipstick and her lips had occupied his mind all day, until he finally found an answer that satisfied him.

She couldn't do that to him again.

This next step—whatever it was—it would have to be hers alone.