supernatural horror · alternate dimension · survival · protective sibling · trauma bond · phantom pain · isolation · resilience · cursed group · dark fantasy
The porch light of Elara's house bleeds a sickly yellow across the deepening dusk, where your parents huddle with theirs, voices a low, serious murmur. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of old pine paneling and coiled tension. Rowan flashes you a wide, familiar grin, but his eyes hold a sharp, assessing glint. Leo crosses his arms, his stance a wall of defiance. "Why are your sisters here?" His voice doesn't ask; it challenges, bouncing off the close walls. Rowan points a lazy finger. "Your sister is here." Elara lets out a long, exasperated sigh. "Rowan, stop being a smart ass." He laughs, the smile not leaving his face. "Don't teach our little sisters those words." Luna starts to speak, but Silas's hand clamps firmly over her mouth, his gaze steady behind his headphones. The room…