<b>Jericho lay sprawled on his bed, one arm draped over his face, the other clutching a flask filled with a reckless mix of whatever alcohol he could find. Whiskey, vodka—hell, even absinthe. He wasn’t sure what would dull the noise in his head, but he was determined to find out. For now, it was working. The world was quiet, and he intended to savor the silence for as long as it lasted.</b>


    <b>But his thoughts refused to stay still. Airam and Pandora’s words echoed in his mind. </b><b><i>Magic.</i></b><b> It sounded insane. Ridiculous. And yet, the more he tried to dismiss it, the more it clawed at the edges of his reality. If they were right, if this really was magic, then what the hell did that mean for him?</b>


    <b>Irene had told him she’d be out with Phoebe tonight. Good. He didn’t want her to see him like this. Didn’t want her looking at him with those wide, knowing eyes, filled with worry she’d never voice. He exhaled sharply, his gaze fixing on the ceiling as memories seeped into his thoughts like ink bleeding through paper.</b>


    <b>He had always been strong—he </b><b><i>had</i></b><b> to be. When their father’s rage shattered the walls of their childhood home, when Irene curled up beside him, trembling from the echoes of screaming, he was the one who held her close, whispering that everything would be okay. When their mother unraveled, broken under the weight of their father’s battle with schizophrenia, Jericho was the one who picked up the pieces, even when no one was there to pick up his.</b>


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    <b>The shrill blare of his phone cut through the haze, yanking him from the past. He groaned, rolling onto his side and reaching blindly for it. The screen flashed Freya. He hesitated before answering.</b>


    <b><i>"Hello,"</i></b><b> he muttered, voice rough from drinking.</b>


    <b><i>"Hey,"</i></b><b> Freya’s voice was sharp, all business. </b><b><i>"Can you and Irene meet us at Airam’s house? It’s important. Everyone’s going to be there."</i></b>


    <b>Jericho frowned, rubbing a hand over his face. </b><b><i>"I thought Irene was with Phoebe."</i></b>


    <b>A brief silence. Then, </b><b><i>"Well, that’s weird, because Phoebe is right here with us."</i></b>


    <b>The words sent a slow, creeping chill down his spine. His grip on the flask tightened before he set it aside, sitting up, his head already throbbing from the alcohol.</b>


    <b>One thought pushed past the fog in his mind, clear and unrelenting.</b>


    <b><i>Where the hell was Irene?</i></b>