Auriel arrived the next week.
He didn't knock. He never did. He just walked into he house like he still lived here, like he had never left 5 years ago.
Their father was already waiting in the living room, his arms crossed, his jaws clenched with anger he did not know where it came from.
Nola sat at the top of the stairs, knees pulled to her chest, listening carefully.
"She won't be going anywhere," their father said, his voice loud.
Auriel stood in the doorway, calm but unyielding. "You know that she can't stay here."
"You don't get to show up after years and decide what's best for her."
"I'm not deciding," Auriel said. "I'm offering her a choice. Something no one gave me."
"She's just a girl—"
"She's not a girl anymore. She is 17 now and you saw what happened."
"You want your children to never grow up so you bottle them down like this."
Their father flinched. His mind raced as it searched for some flaw of logic in his son's words but could not find any.
"It wasn't her fault what had happened," Auriel continued, his voice softening. "But it would be, if she doesn't learn how to control it."
"You think expulsion is the worst thing that'll happen? That was just a small warning for what is to come. It could be a person she hurts next."
"She's my daughter."
"And she's my sister," Auriel said. "She's like me."
Their father turned away, running a hand over his mouth. His shoulders sagged as he sighed deeply.
"When you left… I thought it was forever. Thought you'd gotten into something dangerous. Secretive. I blamed your uncle for dragging you into it."
"He didn't drag me," Auriel said. "He saved me. You think I wanted to go? I was terrified too but I was breaking things I didn't understand and hurting people without meaning to. Just like Nola."
Their father didn't speak.
"You remember the toaster?" Auriel added. "When I was thirteen. The one that caught fire out of nowhere? Or the hallway mirror that shattered when I got upset?"
"I thought you were acting out," their father muttered.
"No," Auriel said gently. "I was awakening. Just like she is now."
The room was quiet again, filled only by the ticking of the old kitchen clock.
"I don't know how to protect her," their father finally said. "Not from this. Not from what I can't even understand."
"You don't have to," Auriel said. "But I can. I've been where she is. I know what she feels. I know what it means to carry that kind of weight and not have anyone to explain it."
He exhaled and sat down heavily on the recliner. "I just wanted her to be normal."
"She never was," Auriel said, but his tone was kind. "And you never gave her the space to not be."
Their father looked up at him then, his eyes tired but clear. "You really think you can help her?"
"I know I can. But more importantly, she deserves to know. To not spend her whole life thinking she's broken."
He nodded once, slowly. "Where are you taking her?"
"Somewhere safe. Not far from the city. It's the school I went to. The real one. They'll teach her. Train her. Help her learn what all this means."
Their father stood, stiffly. He walked to the kitchen doorway, looked at the fridge, at the cracked photo magnet still holding up a younger Nola's drawing of a firebird.
"When will I see her again?"
"When she's ready," Auriel said. "But you'll always hear from her."
Their father sighed again.
Then, with something between surrender and hope, he said, "Take care of her, Auriel."
Auriel nodded. "With everything I have."
Nola spent the day in a quiet daze, wandering her room slowly, trying to decide what to take. A few books and her sketchpad.
The scarf her mother knitted her years ago still smelled like cinnamon. She hugged it remembering her childhood.
When a knock came at her window that evening, she didn't get startled.
She already knew who it was.
"Caro," she said, sliding it open. "Lish."
Her two best friends stood outside, faces flushed with cold, their eyes heavy with worry.
"We heard," Caro said. "About the explosion. The expulsion. Everything."
Nola hesitated. "How?"
"Everyone's been talking," Lish said softly. "And… your mom told my aunt. She didn't say much, just that you're leaving."
"Is it true?" Caro asked. "You're going with your brother?"
Nola nodded, slowly.
Neither of them said anything for a long time. The weight of the moment pressed against all three of them, fragile and sacred.
Caro was the first to speak. "This sucks."
Lish gave her a look. "That's what you want to say to her now?"
"Well, it does." Caro's voice cracked. "She's our best friend and she's leaving so suddenly."
"I didn't want this," Nola said. "You know that, right?"
"Of course we do," Lish said. She reached for her hand and squeezed it. "You don't have to explain anything."
"I wish I could," Nola said. "But I don't understand it myself. My brother says I'm—"
"Special," Caro interrupted. "Yeah. We know. You've always been weird in the best way."
Nola gave a shaky laugh.
Lish pulled a small folded note from her coat pocket. "I wrote something. You don't have to read it now."
Nola took it gently, as though it were fragile. "Thank you."
Caro fumbled in her hoodie and took out a worn friendship bracelet with a faded charm in the middle.
"Remember this?"
Nola's heart stopped.
They had made them together during the first year here. Only hers had broken just two months later. She thought it was gone forever.
"You found it?"
"And fixed it," Caro said. "Well, kind of. The knot's a bit lopsided, but it still counts."
Nola took it carefully.
"I don't know what's going to happen," she said, voice thin. "Where I'm going, what it'll be like. But if I don't come back—"
"You will," Lish said firmly.
"But if I don't just know you were the only real thing in a world that kept pushing me out."
She looked between them, heart in her throat
They didn't cry. They didn't scream.
They just hugged her so tightly she could barely breathe.
And when they left that night, sneaking out through the same window, Nola sat on the floor for a long time, her bracelet clutched to her chest, the note unopened in her lap.
She followed Auriel to the bus stop before the sun had risen.
The air was bitter and crisp, the bench they were sitting on wet with dew.
He didn't ask if she was ready.
She just nodded once and climbed the bus as it arrived.
"You said your goodbyes?" he asked as the bus pulled away from the curb.
Nola looked outside the window.
Their house was already vanishing into the grey morning fog.
"Yes," she said. "And I didn't break this time."
Auriel smiled faintly. "That's the first step."