Chapter 2

Days turned into a bleak routine.

Pa hounded Lily constantly, his demands for riches growing louder, angrier.

"Where's my gold, woman? You eating my food, living under my roof, for what?"

He'd backhand her if her answer wasn't quick enough, or if he was just in a mood.

Lily took it, her face pale, but those eyes of hers never lost that strange light.

Sometimes, when Pa was passed out drunk, I'd see her.

Her eyes would change, turning a solid, shimmering silver, like polished coins.

It wasn't natural. It made a cold shiver run down my spine.

She'd hum, too, these old, sad-sounding lullabies, tunes I'd never heard but felt deep in my bones, like a forgotten memory.

Pa would hit me too, if I got in his way, or if he just felt like it.

"Useless girl," he'd snarl, his hand connecting with my cheek. "Just like your no-good mother."

My real mother, the one who'd raised me, was gone. Died of a fever, they said.

She was kind, gentle. Nothing like Pa.

She'd taught me things, quiet things, about the woods, about listening.

Sometimes, Lily would look at me, a long, searching gaze.

It wasn't kind, not exactly, but it wasn't cruel either. It was... assessing.

One evening, Pa was worse than usual.

He'd been drinking since morning, his temper a raw, open wound.

He grabbed Lily by the hair, dragging her from her chair.

"You're testing my patience, Dreamweaver! I want results!"

Lily cried out, a small, sharp sound.

He threw her against the wall.

I flinched, my own body tensing for a blow that wasn't mine.

But then, Lily did something strange.

She pushed herself up, and for a moment, her body seemed to glow with a faint, silver light.

Her eyes were pure silver, blazing.

"You will have what you desire, Jedediah," she whispered, her voice suddenly deeper, resonant. "Soon."

Pa, too drunk to notice the change, just laughed.

"Damn right I will."

Later that night, I couldn't sleep.

The air in the cabin felt charged, like before a thunderstorm.

I crept out of my small room, a thin blanket wrapped around me.

Lily was sitting by the cold hearth, not moving, just staring into the empty fireplace.

Her eyes were normal again, but she was humming that strange lullaby.

It wasn't just a song, it felt like... a calling.

I shivered, not just from the cold.

A part of me was terrified of her, of what she might be.

But another part, a darker, hidden part, felt a strange pull, an excitement.

This house, this life, was a prison.

Maybe Lily, with her silver eyes and ancient songs, was the key to breaking it open.

Or maybe she was just another monster.

I didn't know which was worse. Or which I wanted more.