Reflection

You were never meant to leave

I was halfway through a midterm paper when the pull started. A burning behind my eyes, a pressure in my chest, like the wind had changed but no one else noticed. That’s when I knew: the town was calling me back.

I hadn’t been there since I was seventeen. I didn’t plan to ever go back. Grayrun was the kind of place that didn’t just haunt your memory—it made a home there. The streets, the trees, the heavy fog that rolled in just after sunset… it all felt like it was waiting for me. Like it never forgot what I did. Or what I am.
I told myself the feeling was just stress. Lack of sleep. Finals week. But magic doesn’t wait for permission, and it sure as hell doesn’t care about your class schedule. By the end of the day, I’d closed my laptop, packed a bag, and bought a bus ticket.

It wasn’t a decision. It was a command. And I obeyed.
It didn’t take me long to get here, I decided to go to college just two towns away because deep down inside I knew I would have to return. It was starting to be hauntingly clear that my destiny was always going to be tied to the tragedy of my past. The tips of my toes tingled, I could feel the power in me react to the pull. It sung a song of uncontrollable yearning- my heart would never be put to rest. The bus wheezed to a stop just outside the old town limits. I got off alone- no station, no lights, just the cracked sidewalk and the hollow sound of silene that only Grayrun could hold. The air smelled the same- like damp wood, cold stone and something beneath it all. I walked.
It started with a flicker- just one. A soft blue light drifting past my ear like a falling star in the wind. Then another. And another. Moths. But not like I remembered. These weren’t ordinary things that bumped into porch lights and died in gutters, their wings shimmered with veins of silver, they moved in perfect spirals, as drawn to something- or someone. I noticed their movements, they were not flying at random. They were gathering. Swarming the roof of the old library, the one boarded up after the fire. Dozens of them, then hundreds, blanketing the shingles in the doorway, the broken window frames. Silent. Still.

It looked like the building was breathing.
I took a step forward. Every single moth turned its wings in my direction at once.

Not random.

Not natural.

They weren’t just back.

They were waiting for me.
The boarded up doorways blew open gently, the wind howled with a mystifying tune. I raised my eyebrow in suspicion, first moths and now this. It was beginning to feel like the feeling that brought me here was deeper than what I thought it was. A figure emerges from the shadows cast, the last time I checked my phone it was around seven, but it was fall- almost Halloween so the night creeped in swiftly. I couldn’t see his face- I squinted while being wary, I knew better than to stand there and wait for something to happen. As if sensing my unrest his voice echoes from the darkness.

“Angus, it’s good to see you back. The coven wondered you would stop by to give us a visit.”

I recognized the voice, an elder of the coven. I had put this place and them so far back in my mind. His voice sounded the same, and as he emerged a dim light began to glow around him, his aura. It was a dull red, but strong. Still holding my position- guarded, I waved at him slightly smiling as I did this. He taught me magic when I was five and again when I was seven, he was my parent’s closest confidant. He was middle aged but barely graying. His hair was lush and blonde, and his figure was stocky still- just like I remembered it.

“I’m sorry, but you know I told my parents I no longer wanted this life, it was too dark...too messy.”

I could hear my own voice crack as I spoke, I wanted a normal life away from the world of Grayrun, I spent a majority of my teen years witnessing magic, mystery and mayhem. By the time I was seventeen I had had enough. He giggled a little, walking closer, I dropped my guard- he wouldn’t hurt me. He begins speaking again, I can hear his tone shift ever so slightly. My annoyance grows.

“You know, your heritage is not something you can just ignore. You can’t decide not to be a warlock in the coven anymore just because you want a normal life. There is nothing normal about you- son of the Luke, the thrice blessed child in your bloodline.”

I could feel my anger starting to boil, he knew nothing about me. If I stayed, I would have become a victim to a life I did not want. I refuse that reality. My reply was passive, but the hidden meaning behind it was not.

“I don’t care about my heritage, and I don’t care about being blessed. What are you doing here?”

He raises his eyebrow at me, as if not expecting me to suddenly turn on him. I could see the aura around him become brighter; he did not like me challenging him like that. He took another step closer, but I held my ground, the wind got louder around us to the point where I started to feel like a noose was being tied around my neck, but I did not react- I wasn’t afraid. His mouth began to move, but I started to get dizzy. I couldn’t focus on anything. It felt like the life was being pulled from me by this wind. What was going on, was this more than a test?

“You were the anchor, even back then. That night in the woods… you don’t remember, do you? They erased it. But I didn’t forget. I watched the seal crack when you left, and I knew—it would come for us. So I made sure it came for you.”
I grasped at my throat; something was wrong with me and with his aura. It was now bright red, which meant he had activated his magic. I was trapped in a spell of some sort.
I tried to speak, to curse him, to summon even a flicker of my own magic—but it burned in my chest like a coiled wire, ready to snap.

“Velastra,” he said softly. The word tasted ancient, like ash and iron. “They told me never to use it. Said it wasn’t meant for mortals. But then again, neither were you.”
My knees buckled, and the world bent sideways. The library’s broken windows shimmered like liquid glass. For a moment, I swore I saw stars through them—not reflections, but real stars, cold and watching.

“You were always going to come back,” Peter whispered, stepping closer. “They just didn’t expect you to come back changed.”

Changed. What does he mean changed, I went to college, majored in Biology and never used magic again. It was starting to become clear that the life I had tried so hard to desperately build was now crumbling and there was not one thing I could do to stop it. Peter was binding me, with an ancient spell. But why? He knows I would never turn to the dark, I would never surrender myself to the reflection. And what does he mean I was the key?

“You think I want to hurt you?” Peter’s voice trembled, not with guilt—but awe. “I’m preserving you. You’re the key, Angus. The anchor, the gate, the fuse. You were never meant to leave this place.”

He stepped closer, his aura flaring crimson. “Reflection is coming. Through you. Through the seal you thought they broke.”

“And when the door opens, you’ll already be in position—just like you were meant to be. Ready to burn. Ready to unlock what none of us could reach alone.”

The pressure around my throat was closing in—tight, rhythmic, like a heartbeat not my own. The spell was nearly complete. My knees hit the floor. I saw Peter’s eyes glowing like coals, mouth moving in ancient syllables I couldn't stop.
Then the air cracked. Not thunder—a growl.

A blur tore through the rotted frame of the library’s west wall, wood splintering outward in slow motion. He landed in a crouch, one hand clawed, the other steadying his body like a predator surveying prey.

Eyes—golden and wild—locked on Peter.

“Let. Him. Go.”

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. But somehow, I felt him. In my head. A low hum beneath my thoughts, clearing the fog of Velastra just enough to think.

Peter hissed. “I should’ve known they’d send one of you.”
The werewolf bared his teeth in something between a grin and a threat. “You sealed him with a star-bound spell.” He raised his hand, claws glowing faintly silver. “Shame you forgot we were born under the same sky.”

“YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME HERE WEREWOLF!” His voice was like thunder booming through my head, the fog returned, I was losing.

Through squinted eyes, I watched him raise his left hand toward the werewolf, summoning a ball of fire. Even one spell demanded complete focus—casting two at once proved just how powerful Peter was.

The fireball ignited with a roar, blazing straight for the newcomer. I tensed, certain he’d be caught in the blast. But the werewolf moved—fast, fluid, unfazed. He leapt aside, the fireball streaking past me and crashing into a tree with a sharp crack, flames blooming in the dark.

He lunged at Peter in a blur of silver and muscle. His claws—once dimly glowing—now burned with an eerie, radiant light. He closed the distance in a single heartbeat, but hit something invisible. A ripple, a shimmer—a shield.

He grinned.

Then he struck. Claws slashed the air with a high-pitched scrape, like glass under pressure—until the barrier shattered, a sharp psychic pop echoing in my chest.
Werewolves were natural counters to magic—guardians of balance. But breaking a shield like Peter’s? That shouldn’t have been possible.

Unless... Peter was too focused on me.
In that split second of distraction, the werewolf’s hand closed around his throat.

I gasped. The pressure holding me shattered like chalk dust. Air rushed into my lungs. I stumbled, but I could stand. My vision steadied, my thoughts uncoiled.

The werewolf growled low—not just a threat, but a promise. Peter stood frozen, his spell collapsing in flickers of red light.
They stared each other down, locked in a moment thick with power and violence. Claws hovered inches from Peter’s throat, and Peter’s own hands sparked with restrained fire—yet neither moved.

And all I wanted was to sink into the ground and disappear.
“You don’t go down easy,” the werewolf muttered. “But that’s alright.”

With his free hand, he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a thin, metallic needle. Without hesitation, he drove it into Peter’s neck.

The red aura surrounding Peter flickered—and dropped. A tranquilizer? No. Something heavier. Magical.
Peter’s knees buckled, but he stared over at me mouthing probably the most unsettling sentence I had ever heard.
“It’s not over, he is still coming for you,” Peter says weakly, disappearing in a cloud of smoke- leaving a scorch mark where he stood.

I fall to my knees, weak and out of breath, but soon I find that my body is being hugged in a tight embrace by the werewolf. He smelled nice, like a forest in early spring. He looked down at me asking if I was alright, I shook my head slightly, but I think he already knew the answer. But then, just when I thought it was over I could see an emotion waft over his face…confusion?

With my eyes I asked him what, he beckons with his head to my hand. A symbol had appeared. A sword covered by vines. It didn’t hurt, but I could feel it tethering me to something. Was this what Peter meant when he said he would find me?
A sigh escaped my lips, and I nodded toward the werewolf, letting him know I was ready to stand.

“Thank you for saving me, it’s my first time back here in almost three years and I get attacked by someone, don’t put that on the town brochures.” I said, trying to keep my voice light even though internally I was cycling through many intense emotions.

He nods and smiles a little, “I was sent by your parents, they are expecting you!”

I raised my eyebrows at him, I thought they were on a trip.
“Yes they are on a trip, but they sent me a message earlier today, said to come find you and make sure you get home safely.” He interrupts my train of thought providing an answer.

“I hate it when werewolves read my mind, but I guess I am glad they saw this coming.” I respond, making a note internally to drill them on something Peter said earlier. I straighten my posture and grab my bag that I had dropped beside me earlier.

“Well, where to now?” I asked him, beckoning out with my hands so he knew I wanted him to lead the way. If my parents sent him, it must mean they wanted me to go to school.
He smiled, a rather charming smile. It was just now that I was able to take in his features. He seemed to be around six feet tall; his long messy blonde hair matched his sharp jawline, and his eyes were an intense shade of green. He almost looked like a model, but that was characteristic for werewolves. They were often very attractive in their human form, especially if they were born werewolves; genetics were generally in their favor.

He began walking and I followed him, still in my head about earlier. Peter said I was the key, the key to what exactly? And what did he mean by saying the seal cracked when I left. I started to grow worried, if there were pieces of information really missing from my memory then the first thing I had to do was get it back before whatever target Peter put on my back finds me. I followed the werewolf for two minutes before I realized I didn’t know his name.

“Hey, what’s your name?” I asked from behind him, walking faster to keep up, putting my own worries to the side for the moment.

“I’m Gabriel, I work for your parents at the school.” He responds, leading us to a bike that had been rather haphazardly parked, he got on and threw a helmet at me.
I barely caught it. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” he said, already revving the engine. “Now either get on, or stick around and wait for round two. Your choice.”
I hesitated—then climbed on behind him. The helmet smelled like leather and old pine. As the engine roared to life I grabbed hold of the back of the bike with my hands.

“It’s okay you can hold on to me.” he said, looking back at me. I smiled a little, though he couldn’t see it.

My hands reached around his torso, hugging it tightly. I could feel his abs- they were very defined. The bike begins to move, gaining momentum as we sped down the road towards the school. The wind was not able to lash me in the face due to the helmet, and though the streets were slightly illuminated by the dim lamps and the light from the bike there was not much interesting to see. Everything was the same as when I left- well maybe except for the new diner we passed.

My mind wandered again to Gabriel; I wonder how he started working for my parents. I figured since they sent him to get me it must mean they wanted me to know him. They always have an ulterior motive for everything. I could sense he wasn’t bonded, which probably means they wanted him to bond to me. I keep telling them I don’t want a bond, I can barely handle my own emotions how am I supposed to cope with someone else rooting around in my head; this was bound to be something we fought about.

We were almost there—I could smell it. The faint scent of ozone and dried herbs lingered in the air, remnants of old barrier spells. It was subtle, but unmistakable, like catching the ghost of a memory in the wind.

We were approaching a wall. To anyone else, it was nothing special—just another stretch of cracked brick and ivy near the edge of town, long-forgotten and choked with weeds. But I felt the glamour before I saw it. My skin tingled, and the closer we got, the heavier the air became. The veil was old magic. Familiar. Woven with layers of enchantments meant to keep people out... or maybe keep something in.

Gabriel slowed the bike, then stopped entirely about five feet from the wall. He didn’t say anything—just looked at me, like he was waiting.

“You want me to go first?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You're still bound to it,” he said. “Part of you never left.”
The words made something in my chest twist. I slid off the bike and stepped forward. The wall shimmered slightly in the moonlight—only visible if you weren’t trying too hard to see it.

I reached out, fingers brushing the surface. It was cool and solid—until it wasn’t. My hand passed through like water. The magic recognized me.

Behind it, the illusion flickered. Spires. Stone paths. Dim lights glowing like fireflies in the mist. The school.

I turned to Gabriel, stunned. “It hasn’t changed.”

He shook his head. “Not everything forgets you, Angus.”

Then he rolled the bike forward, and we disappeared into the veil.