W*tch

Preface: Flame

"What have I done? Why did she have to say such mean words?" Echo's voice trembled, a whisper full of agony. "Nova, this is all your fault."

Thick smoke billowed from the ancient, leather-bound book lying open in front of her. The pages were yellowed and brittle, worn by generations of hands. Each one flipped wildly on its own as though searching for answers, but no solution appeared. The faint light from the fire reflected in Echo's tear-filled eyes, flames hungrily licking the curtains, consuming them slowly. The room, bare and cold, filled with smoke, yet she seemed oblivious to it all.

Her face, once carefully made up, was now a canvas for black streaks, her mascara running with each tear. She wiped her face in frustration, smudging her hands with the stains of her grief. Her fingers ran through her hair, tangling the once-perfect strands into a wild mess. The polished image she worked so hard to maintain was crumbling as fast as her world.

She stared at the fire, feeling the weight of her failure. "I messed everything up." Her thoughts spiraled in despair. How could a simple argument with Nova lead to this? Maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe her whole life had been leading to this—an inescapable disaster.

A soft knock broke through the crackling fire. The door creaked open, and a woman peered in. Smoke rushed out of the room, yet more filled the space as the flames consumed what remained of the curtain, sending thick, dark plumes into the air.

"Nova, is..." the woman began, but her voice trailed off as her eyes took in the scene. She stood frozen for a second, horror spreading across her face. "Echo, what happened?" Her tone shifted to one of urgency, fear etched in every word.

She rushed toward the girl, her hands immediately finding Echo's trembling shoulders, attempting to soothe her. But Echo barely registered her mother's touch. The sobs quieted into shallow breaths as she collapsed further into herself.

The woman—Shannon—turned her head toward the door. "Jeff!" she called, louder now, her voice cracking under the strain. But Echo didn't flinch. She remained lost, locked in her own sorrow, finding only the faintest relief in her mother's arms.

Jeff arrived moments later, his face pale as his eyes locked on the flames. His shock was almost as much about recognition as it was fear. The fire seemed familiar, almost like something he had been warned of—something long in the making. Yet he stood frozen, as though mesmerized.

"Shannon?" he asked, barely able to pull his gaze away from the fire. He didn't move until her stern, panicked voice cut through the trance. "Get the fire extinguisher, now!"

Her words snapped him back to reality. He blinked, nodded, and rushed down the hall, disappearing from view. Shannon returned her attention to Echo, stroking her daughter's hair, trying to untangle the knots as if smoothing them could ease the chaos unraveling around them. But Echo's body trembled under her touch, the weight of whatever had happened sinking deeper.

"What happened, love?" Shannon whispered, almost afraid of the answer. She pulled Echo closer, but the girl stiffened, inching away, her voice lost in the storm of guilt and confusion. A silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire and Echo's shallow breaths. Then finally, a name slipped through her lips.

"Nova..."

Before she could say more, Jeff returned, dragging the fire extinguisher into the room. Echo's eyes widened in sudden realization, finally noticing the flames devouring the last remnants of the curtains. Her breathing grew ragged, panic clawing its way back as she gasped for air, feeling trapped in the thickening smoke.

Jeff sprang into action, aiming the extinguisher at the fire. The flames fought back, flaring wildly as if resisting his efforts, but eventually, they yielded, extinguished in a cloud of foam. He sighed, looking at the scorched remains of the curtain. Surprisingly, nothing else had been damaged—the smoke had blackened the walls, but the furniture and wooden shelves were untouched. It was as though the fire had only wanted the curtain.

"Sorry, the extinguisher was stuck under the sink," Jeff mumbled, wiping sweat from his brow. He pushed open a window, letting the cold night air rush in. "I had to dig it out."

Shannon shot him a look, her face tight with tension. "Not the main focus right now," she said flatly, her voice edged with frustration.

Jeff, still catching his breath, finally noticed the old book in Echo's lap. The pages had stopped flipping. He knelt down beside her and gently closed the book, pulling it away from her hands. For the first time since the fire, Echo looked up, her expression vacant, her tear-stained face pale and hollow.

"She knew I was new to this," Echo whispered, her voice barely audible. "She messed up, and now she's gone."

Shannon frowned, not understanding. "What do you mean, gone?"

"There was a fire... and then she disappeared," Echo said, her words choked with anger. "She... she's gone."

Shannon felt her stomach drop. "She left? Nova ran away?" She imagined her daughter out in the night, vulnerable and scared. It seemed impossible.

"No," Echo said flatly, her voice devoid of emotion. "The fire... it took her. She was just gone."Jeff, still holding the book, froze. The color drained from his face. "What did you say?"

Echo didn't look at him. She was still trying to make sense of it herself. "The flames... took her. With the boy."

"The boy?" Shannon asked sharply, her heart pounding. "What boy?"

Echo struggled to remember. "The hockey player... Hayden."

Recognition flickered in Jeff's eyes. "Hayden," he whispered. A sense of dread washed over him. He knew exactly who Echo was talking about.

Shannon's face turned ashen. She clutched at Jeff's arm, her mind racing. "We were supposed to stop this," she whispered, her voice cracking. Tears welled in her eyes as the weight of their failure sank in. "We failed."

Jeff's jaw clenched. His entire body was rigid, fury boiling beneath the surface. "We failed," he repeated coldly.

And as the night deepened, an unsettling stillness fell over them, the air thick with the sense that something much larger had awakened. The fragile threads of fate had unraveled, and now destiny would claim its due.