The final bell rang through CrossLight High, echoing down polished corridors and slamming lockers shut. The day was over, but Sam Luvrick sat motionless on the floor, half-awake, half-elsewhere. His mind drifted back to a face he could barely remember and a voice that had never stopped echoing in his dreams.
"Find me."
The whisper cut through the noise like a blade through fabric. Sam's eyes flicked open. For a heartbeat, the classroom around him blurred, the sunlight pouring through the windows like liquid gold. His reflection in the glass startled him—those same gray eyes, sharp and weary, the eyes of his father. A faint scar ran along his left hand, pale against his skin—the place where an empty box had once burned with impossible light.
He blinked, shook his head, and forced a smile. "Coming," he muttered, pushing himself up.
"Sam! Sam!! SAM!!!"
Bryan's voice broke the trance. The tall, messy-haired boy leaned through the doorway, waving both hands like a man signaling a rescue helicopter.
"Wake up, man! School's closed!"
Sam groaned, stretching his neck. "How long was I out?"
Bryan grinned. "Since Audrey knocked you out in front of Stella."
"Right," Sam muttered. "That's… okay."
Bryan's grin faded. "Okay? Dude, what do you mean, okay?"
Sam brushed dust off his uniform, avoiding his friend's stare. "I don't want to be a nuisance to anyone—and I don't want anyone to be a nuisance to me. It's give and take."
Bryan blinked. "Are you crazy?"
Sam shrugged. "No. Yes. Maybe. Depends on the day." He laughed weakly, rubbing his temple. "Look, if I'm not popular, strong, or handsome, what's the point? She doesn't even look my way."
Bryan sighed the sigh of a man too used to Sam's brand of self-deprecation. "Then next time she attacks, do a little magic trick to confuse her."
Sam froze, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Now it's my turn to ask if you're crazy. You're literally the only person who knows about that—and you want me to use it to impress a girl?"
"Hey, it'd work," Bryan said with a shrug.
"Not happening," Sam said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Besides, Audrey's a sucker-faced—"
Bryan's eyes widened. "Dude. Stop. She's right there."
Sam turned—and instantly regretted breathing.
Audrey stood beside Stella and a few friends, arms folded, eyes gleaming like twin storm clouds. "I'm a what?"
Sam's laugh died halfway out of his throat. "Uh… hey, Audrey. I was just—"
"Finishing that sentence?" She cracked her knuckles, stepping forward.
Before her fist could fly, Sam's phone exploded with a shrill ringtone. He snatched it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen.
He grabbed his phone from his pocket, the screen lighting up with "Uncle Bucky" across the display. His pulse quickened as he pressed it to his ear.
His face drained of color. "Mom?"
He turned away, answering quickly. "What? …I'm on my way!"
He ended the call, heart hammering. "Sorry—gotta go! We can finish this another time!"
Audrey blinked. "Who said you're getting another time?"
She swung fast, but Sam moved faster. He ducked under her punch, the world blurring for an instant as he ran, and bolted down the hall. Bryan cursed and ran after him.
Audrey froze mid-step, staring at her fist. "He dodged me? He's never dodged me before!"
Outside, the sky bled orange over CrossLight's courtyard as Sam and Bryan sprinted across the street.
"Wait up!" Bryan shouted, panting. "Who was that on the phone?"
"Uncle Bucky!" Sam yelled without slowing. "He said my mom collapsed—she's in the hospital!"
"What!?" Bryan's voice cracked. "Then hurry!"
"I am hurrying!"
"Use your magic!" Bryan gasped. "So we can get there faster!"
Sam skidded to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk, mind racing. "Right… right."
He raised a trembling hand. The air shimmered faintly—just a ripple, like heat rising from pavement. He whispered under his breath, words that weren't quite words, a rhythm that seemed to hum in his veins.
The world shifted.
For an instant, gravity bent. Wind swirled around their feet, lifting dust and leaves in a spiral of light. Bryan yelped as the ground fell away beneath them. They soared—past rooftops, through clouds, into the cold rush of open air.
"Remind me never to doubt you again!" Bryan shouted over the wind.
"Hold on!" Sam called back.
They descended behind the hospital, landing clumsily in a narrow alley to avoid being seen. The spell faded; the air snapped back to stillness. Both of them stumbled out onto the street, gasping for breath.
Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed over polished tile floors. The sterile smell of disinfectant hit them like a wall. Sam ran straight to the reception desk. "Luvrick! Ellen Luvrick! Where is she?"
The nurse scanned her chart, eyes softening. "Room 307, third floor."
They sprinted down the hall, pushing through the door. Inside, the hum of machines filled the small room. Officer Bucky—the same officer who'd once brought a box to their doorstep—stood speaking quietly with a doctor.
"Uncle Bucky!" Sam shouted.
Bucky turned, his expression shifting from weary to worried relief. "Sam, Bryan—you made it."
Sam's breath came in ragged bursts. "How's my mom?"
The doctor turned, clipboard in hand. "You're her son?"
"Yes." Sam's voice trembled.
The doctor exhaled slowly, setting the chart down. "Then I'm sorry, but your mother's condition has worsened. Her organs are failing faster than we expected. At best…" He hesitated. "…five years."
The words didn't land all at once. They seemed to echo, circle, and then crash into Sam's chest.
He stumbled back, shaking his head. "No. That can't be right."
"I'm afraid it is." The doctor's voice was gentle, but distant—the tone of someone who had said these words too many times before.
Bryan's mouth fell open. "Five years…?"
Sam pressed his hands to his head, a bitter laugh bursting through the tears forming in his eyes. "Five years," he repeated, half-sobbing, half-laughing. "She can't even last five years?"
Bucky stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Sam—"
But Sam barely heard him. His heart thudded, his mind burning with a single thought: the box, the voice, the whisper that had followed him since childhood.
''Find me.''
His father's words.The same voice that had spoken inside his head hours ago.
Sam's laughter faded into silence. His tears dried almost instantly, leaving only a strange calm.
If Majeik was real… then maybe there was a way to save her.
Outside, the sun had already set. The city lights flickered on one by one, and a faint wind whispered through the hospital windows—soft, steady, almost human.
Sam stared out into the dark horizon, his reflection dim against the glass. The scar on his hand pulsed faintly, like something alive beneath the skin.
Bryan watched him quietly, unsure of what to say. "Sam…?"
Sam didn't answer. He clenched his fist, the faintest glow seeping between his fingers.
"Five years," he whispered. "Then I'll find him… before it's too late."
To be continued…