Selene went back home, and for the first time since she had started calling the place hers, it no longer felt like a house. It felt like a threshold.
The air inside was heavier, charged with something she couldn't name. The walls seemed to listen. Even the lights flickered as she stepped in, as though the building itself was reacting to her presence. She shut the door behind her slowly, leaning her back against it for a moment, breathing out through her nose.
"Recently," she muttered, mostly to herself, "this place feels like more than a home."
Robert didn't respond. He was standing a few steps behind her, quiet in a way that meant he was watching everything—her posture, her breathing, the slight tension in her shoulders. He had learned that when Selene grew quiet like this, something followed.
She straightened and walked further in. "A house is supposed to feel safe," she went on. "This feels like… a riddle. Like something is waiting to be unlocked."
She dropped her bag and moved toward the couch, her movements sharp, purposeful. A thought crossed her mind, cold and precise.
Looks like those two witches are up to something, she thought, her jaw tightening. But I'll end it before they even start.
She reached for the remote and turned on the television.
The screen flickered once. Then twice.
And then the image stabilized.
Robert froze.
The broadcast wasn't a channel. It wasn't news. It wasn't static. It was deliberate—clean, controlled, and wrong.
A voice came through, distorted but unmistakably intentional.
"Robert. Kill her before we do."
Selene's body stiffened.
"You have one month."
Her eyes narrowed, something ancient and furious stirring behind them. The room seemed to react before she consciously did. The lights flared. The air vibrated.
The television didn't explode.
It disintegrated.
The screen blackened, cracked inward, and then turned to ash in a heartbeat, collapsing into itself like it had been erased from existence. Smoke curled briefly in the air before fading.
Silence slammed down hard.
Robert wasn't stunned by the message.
He was stunned by her.
He stared at the pile of ash where the TV had been, then at Selene, whose breathing was steady—too steady. Her hands trembled just slightly at her sides.
"That wasn't—" Robert started, then stopped.
Selene turned slowly to face him.
Her eyes were brighter than usual, not glowing, not dramatic—but sharper, deeper, as if something behind them had opened its eyes.
"Well," she said calmly, "that answers a few questions."
Robert took a step toward her. "Selene. You didn't touch it."
"I know."
"You didn't even look like you meant to."
"I didn't."
That was what unsettled him most.
She walked past him and dropped onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other like nothing monumental had just happened. Then, casually—too casually—she said, "Let's get married."
The words hit harder than the threat on the screen.
Robert blinked. Once. Twice.
"What?"
He stared at her like she had just suggested burning the city down for fun.
"Selene," he said carefully, "what are you thinking?"
She leaned back, resting her head against the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "I'm thinking," she said, "that someone just gave you a deadline to kill me. And instead of panicking, I turned their messenger into dust."
She turned her head slightly to look at him. "That should tell you something."
Robert ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of her. "That doesn't mean marriage is the solution."
"No," she agreed. "But it complicates things."
"That's not a reason."
"It is when you're dealing with people who think in contracts, bloodlines, and leverage."
Robert's expression darkened. "You shouldn't even know that."
Selene smiled faintly. "Yet I do."
He studied her, and for the first time since they had met, he felt something close to unease—not fear of what might happen to her, but fear of what she was becoming without realizing it.
"You're changing," he said quietly.
"I think," she replied, "I always was this. I just didn't have permission to be."
The air in the room shifted again. Not violently this time—intentionally. Robert felt it press against his skin, like a warning.
"They found us," he said.
"No," Selene corrected, sitting up. "They felt me."
That silence again.
"If they felt that," Robert said slowly, "then others will too."
Selene stood, her expression calm but resolved. "Then we stop waiting."
She walked toward the window, looking out into the night. Somewhere far away, something stirred—something aware.
Behind her, Robert realized the truth he hadn't wanted to face.
The threat wasn't the message.
The threat was that Selene had just answered it.
And whoever sent it had no idea what they'd awakened.