Chapter 1 1

Seraphina stood before the rusted aluminum door of the trailer, her fingers hovering inches from the handle. The air around the trailer smelled of wet cardboard and the cloying, chemical scent of Brenda's cheap vanilla air freshener, a desperate attempt to mask the underlying rot of the Grimes household. She didn't need to touch the metal to feel the repulsion. It was a physical vibration, a low-frequency hum that rattled against her fingertips like a warning from an angry rattlesnake. It was the hum of a contract ending.

"Patience, little star," the Mentor's voice echoed in her memory, dusty and warm like old parchment. "The Celestial Pact binds you for eighteen cycles. Not a second less. Endure the mud so you may appreciate the sky."

Yesterday, the eighteenth cycle had closed. The debt was paid.

Inside, laughter erupted. It was a sharp, jagged sound. Brenda was cackling, a noise that usually signaled she had won a scratch-off ticket or successfully demeaned a cashier at the grocery store.

"Finally, the bad luck is gone," Brenda's voice rasped, muffled by the thin walls.

Seraphina's eyes narrowed. The temperature in her chest dropped ten degrees. For eighteen years, she had been their atmospheric filter. She had been the sponge soaking up the black tar of their accumulated malice, the human shield against the karmic debt they racked up with every breath. They thought they were kicking out a parasite. They had no idea they were evicting their immune system.

She gripped the handle. The metal was cold and gritty with dust. She shoved the door open.

The laughter inside died instantly, severed as if by a guillotine. The interior of the trailer was a claustrophobic tunnel of beige paneling and cigarette smoke.

Regina was standing in the center of the cramped living room. She was wearing the dress Seraphina had bought with the meager wages she earned washing dishes at the local diner-a task the Mentor had insisted upon. "To understand the flow of the world," he had said, "you must touch its grease." It was a soft blue chiffon, intended for graduation, but on Regina, the seams were straining, the fabric crying out in protest across her broader shoulders.

Regina smirked, smoothing the fabric over her hips.

Brenda sat at the wobbly kitchen table, a cigarette burning in the ashtray. She waved her hand through the smoke, a dismissive gesture usually reserved for stray dogs.

"I thought you'd be halfway to the homeless shelter by now," Brenda said. Her voice was like sandpaper on concrete.

Richard was slumped on the sofa, the springs groaning under his weight. He didn't look up. He was staring at the television, but his eyes were darting nervously toward the corner of the room, avoiding Seraphina's gaze. He knew. Deep down in his cowardice, he knew something was shifting in the air.

Seraphina didn't speak. She didn't scream. She walked past them, her boots thudding softly on the linoleum that was peeling at the corners. She went to the small alcove that served as her bedroom and picked up the duffel bag she had packed three hours ago. It was light. Eighteen years of life, and it barely filled a gym bag.

She walked back to the main room.

"You owe us for the electricity this month," Brenda spat, tapping a long, acrylic fingernail on the table. "And the water. You take too many showers."

Regina stuck her foot out as Seraphina passed. It was a clumsy, childish move.

Seraphina didn't look down. She sidestepped the obstruction with a fluidity that shouldn't have been possible in the heavy work boots. She spun, her hand brushing against the display cabinet. The cabinet rocked gently, disturbed by her wake. A porcelain clown inside wobbled, tilting precariously, but it didn't fall.

Regina huffed, disappointed. She reached up to touch her earlobe. "Look what Dave got me."

Diamonds. Or at least, cubic zirconia trying hard to be diamonds. But Seraphina didn't see the sparkle. She saw the faint, gray tendrils of smoke curling around the metal studs. Bad intent. Stolen money.

Brenda slapped a piece of paper onto the table. It sounded like a gunshot in the small room.

"Sign it. Severance of Ties and Liability Release. We don't want you coming back here claiming we owe you a dime for raising you. This makes it official. You're cut off. Zero balance."

Seraphina approached the table. She looked down at the document. It was a standard form, probably printed at the public library. But to her eyes, the ink seemed to bleed into the paper, forming chains. This wasn't just a legal severance. It was a metaphysical receipt. By signing this, they were voluntarily releasing their claim on her energy.

Richard coughed, a wet, hacking sound. "Just sign the damn thing, Seraphina."

She let out a short, dry laugh. It was the first sound she had made since entering. It was devoid of humor.

She picked up the cheap ballpoint pen. She didn't hesitate. The tip of the pen dug into the paper, tearing the fiber as she wrote her name. With every stroke, she felt a weight lifting off her shoulders, a physical uncoupling of her lifeline from theirs.

Brenda snatched the paper away the moment the pen lifted.

"Get out," Brenda said. "Before I charge you rent for standing there."

Seraphina shouldered her bag. She looked at them one last time. She looked at the mold growing in the corners of the ceiling, the stains on the carpet, the darkness clinging to their skin like sweat.

"Enjoy the silence," she whispered.

She turned and walked out. The screen door slammed shut behind her, the spring rattling in its housing.

Outside, the air was thick and humid, but it tasted clean. She walked to the edge of the gravel driveway. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a phone. It wasn't the cracked smartphone Regina used to make fun of. It was an old, heavy flip phone, black and nondescript. She had carried it for a year, a dead brick in her pocket, waiting for the date encoded in its chip to unlock it. Today.

She flipped it open. The screen glowed for the first time, displaying a single, decrypted number.

She pressed the call button.