Vanessa has spent her life believing she was abandoned, shuffling between neglectful foster homes and haunted by strange nightmares. When her suppressed magic resurfaces, she is thrust into the mysterious world of Alfea, a school for fairies. There...
The house Vanessa lived in for most of her early childhood didn't feel like a home. The walls were pale and peeling, the furniture worn and mismatched. The air always seemed stale, no matter how often the windows were opened. Even at five years old, Vanessa could feel the emptiness here—an absence of warmth that settled deep in her chest like a stone.
Her foster parents, Bill and Marjorie, weren't cruel, at least not in the traditional sense. They didn't hit her or scream at her. They simply... didn't care. Bill rarely spoke unless he was reprimanding one of the children in his gruff, no-nonsense voice. Marjorie was more talkative, but her words were clipped and impatient, as if every sentence drained her energy. They treated fostering as a job, a way to pay the bills and put food on the table. The children were just tasks on a checklist.
Vanessa learned quickly not to expect much. A warm meal, a roof over her head, clothes that almost fit—that was the best she could hope for. She stopped asking questions, stopped seeking attention. If she stayed quiet and didn't cause trouble, she could almost pretend she was invisible.
But some people didn't let her stay invisible.
Melissa was fifteen, with a sharp tongue and a cruel streak. She was Bill and Marjorie's biological daughter, and she made it her mission to remind the foster kids where they stood. To her, they were intruders, unworthy of sharing her house, her space, her family. And Vanessa, with her quiet demeanor and wide, searching eyes, became an easy target.
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It started with the locket.
Vanessa didn't remember where the locket had come from. It was small and silver, with a tiny crack running through the center. She found it comforting, even if she didn't know why. She liked to hold it when she felt scared or lonely, running her fingers over its surface until her heartbeat steadied.
Melissa noticed, of course. She noticed everything about Vanessa.
One day, while the other children were playing outside, Melissa cornered Vanessa in the living room. "What's so special about that ugly thing?" she sneered, pointing at the locket.
Vanessa clutched it tighter, her small hands trembling. "It's mine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Melissa rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, everything in this house belongs to my parents. So technically, it's mine too."
Vanessa shook her head, her curls bouncing. "It's not yours."
That was the wrong thing to say.
Melissa's face darkened, and in one swift motion, she grabbed the locket from Vanessa's hands. "Let's see how special it is now," she said, her voice cold and sharp. Before Vanessa could stop her, Melissa threw the locket against the wall.
It broke. The tiny crack in the center split open, the silver pieces scattering across the floor.
Vanessa stared at the broken locket, her chest tightening. She felt the air around her shift, growing colder and heavier. A strange hum filled her ears, faint but insistent, like a storm gathering in the distance.
