Storm clouds rolled in as the Maxwell twins stepped off the school bus. Cassandra—the eldest by seven minutes—grabbed Ophelia's hand, her eyes fixed on their house. Their mother stood on the porch, pale and tense, and beside her was a woman neither twin had ever seen before.
Ophelia headed straight toward their mother, her steps quick and confident. Cassandra followed close behind, her gaze locked on the stranger as if any wrong move would be met with a spell or a punch.
Once they reached their mother, Ophelia flashed the stranger a dazzling smile.
"Hello, I'm Lia, and this is my sister Cas—" she said, motioning toward a very unimpressed Cassandra. "—may I ask who you are?"
The older woman smiled, eyes twinkling, but before she could answer, their mother stepped forward.
"Lia, Cassandra... this is Headmistress Duskwood of Aetherion Academy. A school for the other-worldly." Her voice wavered. "Headmistress, these are my girls—Cassandra—"
Cassandra's jaw clenched, her whole body going rigid at the formal introduction.
"—and Ophelia."
Ophelia's smile faltered, tightening into something polite but wary. Her eyes flicked between her mother and the stranger with new caution.
Headmistress Duskwood clasped her hands neatly in front of her.
"I'm here on Council business," she said, her voice calm but carrying that quiet authority that made the air feel heavier. "And I believe it's best we speak inside. We don't want to draw any more attention than necessary."
Samara's jaw tightened. Just barely.
But the twins caught it — of course they did.
"Of course," their mother said, her voice clipped. She stepped back, motioning toward the open door. "Come in."
Ophelia exchanged a quick glance with Cassandra — a silent what did we just walk into.
Cassandra brushed past the headmistress last, her eyes never leaving the woman's face. She didn't trust her. Not even a little.
Inside, the house felt too quiet.
Too still.
Like the storm outside had slipped into their living room and settled there, waiting.
The living room felt too small with the four of them inside. The storm outside pressed against the windows, thunder grumbling like it was eavesdropping.
Headmistress Duskwood stood near the fireplace, posture perfect, hands clasped behind her back. She didn't sit. People like her didn't relax in other people's houses.
Samara stood opposite her, pale but steady. The twins hovered between them, caught in an invisible tug-of-war neither of them understood yet.
The headmistress was the one who broke the silence.
"As I said," she began, tone calm but carrying that undercurrent of authority again, "I'm here on Council business. Your mother's presence is required back in the supernatural realm."
Ophelia blinked. "Required? Like... required required?"
Cassandra didn't say a word. She just stared. That spine-straight, jaw-clenched, ready-to-snap stare.
Duskwood continued, "Samara Maxwell, you've been ordered to return and answer to the Council for your... extended absence."
"Absence?" Ophelia repeated, voice rising. "You mean the years where she was raising us? That absence?"
"Ophelia," Samara warned quietly.
But Lia was already hot. "Why are you putting our mother on trial? She didn't do anything wrong!"
The headmistress didn't flinch. Not even a blink. "It is against the law," she said.
Both twins froze.
Cassandra's fists clenched at her sides so tightly her knuckles went white.
Ophelia's anger sharpened into disbelief. "It's illegal to leave? To just... go live your life?"
"In the supernatural world," Duskwood replied, "duty is not optional. A witch of Samara's bloodline disappearing for seventeen years is considered abandonment of her oath."
"Oath?" Cassandra finally spoke, her voice quiet but cutting. "She never swore anything to you."
Samara swallowed. Hard. "Cassandra... it's complicated."
"And while she returns to stand before the Council," the headmistress continued, "you two will be placed at Aetherion Academy until the matter is resolved."
Ophelia snapped. "NO. Absolutely not! You can't just... just take us! We have lives here! Friends! School! I have a math test on Monday!"
Duskwood's expression didn't soften, but her voice did. Barely. "I understand this is a disruption, but the decision is final."
Cassandra stepped slightly in front of Lia, protective instinct kicking in. "We're not leaving our mother. If you're dragging her into some trial, we're going too."
Samara closed her eyes. "Girls. Enough."
They both turned to her at once.
Their mother looked tired. A kind of tired neither of them had seen before. "There are things I haven't told you. Things about the Council... about how strict our world is. For now, we need to do as they ask."
"But Mom—" Ophelia's voice cracked. She hated when her voice cracked.
"We will go back," Samara said softly. "I'll face them. And you two will attend the academy. Just for now."
Duskwood nodded, satisfied. "You may have a short period to arrange your affairs here. I will return in three days."
Three days.
The words hit like a punch.
With a final nod, the headmistress swept toward the door, storm-gray cloak fluttering behind her like she commanded the weather itself. When the door closed, the house exhaled with them.
And that's when Ophelia exploded.
"No. NO. I'm not going! I'm not leaving! None of this is fair! They can't just— they can't just drag us into their stupid rules! I didn't sign up for this—"
Cassandra grabbed her arm gently but firmly. "Lia."
"I don't CARE!" Ophelia yelled, voice cracking again. "Why do they even want us there? Why do they get to decide everything? Why—"
Samara stepped forward, her own voice steady but shaking at the edges. "Because it's better than the alternative."
Both girls fell silent.
Their mother looked between them, eyes suddenly older than they had ever seemed.
"There's a great deal you don't know about the supernatural world. About the Council. About... why I left."
Cassandra's breath hitched.
Ophelia's anger melted into fear.
Samara took a long breath.
"For now... all I need is for you to trust me."
Samara rubbed her temples, the stormlight flashing across her face.
"Girls... start packing," she said softly. "Only what you need for now. We don't have much time."
Ophelia let out a strangled, furious noise. "Packing? PACKING? You want us to—ugh!"
She stormed down the hall, practically shaking the house with her footsteps.
Cassandra followed silently.
The twins' shared bedroom was a small explosion of personality—posters, plants, notebooks, clothes, and half-finished magical craft projects littered everywhere. Usually, the room felt warm. Cozy. Safe.
Right now it felt like a cage.
Ophelia threw herself onto her bed face-first and let out a scream that could've cracked a window. She grabbed her pillow and slammed it repeatedly into the mattress in a flailing fit of rage.
Cassandra didn't even flinch.
She pulled her suitcase from underneath her bed, snapped it open, and began calmly folding clothes. Jeans, sweaters, socks. Then her small stack of herbology and potion-making notebooks. Two crystal jars. Her jewelry box. A first-aid kit she'd put together herself. The essentials.
Ophelia finally sat up, hair a mess, eyes red, breathing uneven.
"How—" she pointed at Cas with the pillow, voice thick with anger, "—are you SO CALM ABOUT THIS?"
Cassandra paused mid-fold.
Slowly—very slowly—she looked up at her sister.
Ophelia froze.
Because she recognized that look.
The silent calculating machine behind Cassandra's eyes had switched on.
"...What?" Lia asked, suddenly nervous.
Cassandra zipped one compartment of her suitcase closed.
"Don't you find it weird?"
Lia blinked. "Weird? Cas, everything is weird right now! The council, the school, Mom being dragged back—"
"No." Cassandra stood, suitcase forgotten for a moment. "I mean her."
"Who? Mom?" Ophelia wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
Cassandra nodded once.
"The headmistress. She looked... on edge. Almost scared."
Lia paused. Really paused.
"What? Why would she be scared of Mom?"
Cas raised an eyebrow, the faintest ghost of curiosity flickering across her face.
"That," she said softly, but with that razor-sharp Cassandra certainty, "is exactly what I want to know."
Ophelia's anger wavered, replaced with something else—
a ripple of unease.
And underneath that... a little spark of intrigue.
Because if headmistress big-scary-council-lady was afraid of their mother...
...then who exactly was Samara Maxwell?
And what else had she been hiding?