Chapter Five-Bloodlines and Breaking Points

The fire had burned low, casting long shadows across the cabin walls. Avery sat curled into the corner of the couch, her tea forgotten, cooling on the table. Her adoptive parents sat across from her now, their expressions solemn. Auron and Remy remained nearby, silent but watchful.

Her father cleared his throat. “You were just a baby when Auron brought you to us.”

Avery’s breath caught.

“He said you were his daughter,” her mother added softly. “That your birth mother was a seer, and that you were born into the supernatural world. But he wanted you to have a chance at a normal life.”

Auron’s gaze didn’t waver.

“We agreed,” her father continued. “We’d raise you as our own. No secrets, except the ones that kept you safe. You were ours, Avery. In every way that mattered.”

Her mother reached for her hand. “We knew there was a chance the mark would never show. That you’d be able to stay human. Some children of witches don’t inherit magic. Especially if their mother is a seer — sometimes the gift skips a generation.”

Avery’s voice was barely a whisper. “But it didn’t skip me.”

“No,” Auron said quietly. “It didn’t.”

She looked at him then — really looked. The man who had visited every few months, always with a kind smile and a quiet presence. Her father’s “old friend from the academy.” The man who had taught her how to read constellations and who always brought her rare teas from faraway places.

“You’re not just some family friend,” she said, standing slowly. “You’re my biological father.”

Auron didn’t deny it.

“You lied to me,” she said, her voice rising. “All of you. You let me believe I was normal. You let me dream about a life I could never have.”

Her hands trembled again, but this time it wasn’t fear. It was something deeper — something ancient stirring beneath her skin.

“You let me love you,” she said to Auron, “and you never told me who you really were.”

Auron stepped forward, but Avery raised a hand to stop him.

And then she shuddered.

Her eyes rolled back, her body stiffening as a low hum filled the room — not sound, but vibration, like the air itself had shifted.

Remy moved first.

“Get her down,” she said sharply, already crossing the room. “It’s starting.”

Her adoptive father caught Avery as her knees buckled, lowering her gently to the rug. Her mother knelt beside her, panic rising in her voice.

“What’s happening?”

“She’s crossing,” Remy said, her hands already glowing with a soft, golden light. “The mark’s fully awakened. Her magic is syncing with her bloodline.”

Auron knelt beside her, his voice low and steady. “She’s strong. She’ll come through.”

Avery’s body convulsed once, then stilled. Her breath came in shallow gasps. The mark on her arm flared, casting light across the room like a beacon.

Remy placed her hands on Avery’s temples, whispering in a language no one else understood.

The fire flared suddenly, then died down to embers.

And Avery opened her eyes.

They glowed — not with light, but with knowing.

She looked at Remy first. Then Auron. Then her parents.

And she spoke, her voice layered with something older than herself, “I remember.”