CHAPTER SIXTY ONE

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE
Chapter Sixty-One

“Okay, my turn!” Mandy’s voice cut through the chatter, and everyone’s attention swung toward her. She grinned wide, holding her mug like it was part of the performance.

“But I’m warning you now, this story kept me awake for three nights straight.”

Groans and laughter circled around. Someone threw a marshmallow at her.

“Please, Mandy,” Liz rolled her eyes. “The last time you tried a scary story, you made yourself scream.”

“I did not!” Mandy gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been insulted. “Anyway, listen.”

The group quieted just enough for her to launch into her tale about a boy who went missing in the woods behind her uncle’s cabin.

She stretched the pauses, lowered her voice, threw glances over her shoulder for effect.

By the end, a couple of people leaned in closer to their friends, though most of the group broke out laughing when her “ghost” turned out to be a raccoon.

The fire cracked and hissed, spitting tiny sparks into the air.

“Alright, someone else,” Mandy said, sinking back into her seat.

That was when Chloe leaned forward, her eyes darting across the circle. “Caelum hasn’t said a word all night,” she said, her voice sweet but pointed. “Come on, you must have something.

You can’t just sit there forever.”

Heads turned toward him automatically. The group waited.

Caelum lifted his gaze from the flames. For a moment, the silence stretched, heavy enough that Chloe’s smile started to stiffen.

Then, instead of answering her, he simply shifted his attention elsewhere, as if her question hadn’t deserved a response.

His face stayed calm, unreadable, his jaw set.

Chloe tried to recover quickly, brushing invisible dust from her jeans, but the silence that followed Caelum’s blunt dismissal burned hotter than the fire.

A couple of boys exchanged looks across the circle, one biting back a grin.

Thomas leaned toward kiara, his hand covering his mouth, but the laugh still slipped out in a hiss.

“That was brutal,” she whispered, just loud enough for the people beside her to hear.

“Poor Chloe,” another girl muttered under her breath, though the smirk on her face said otherwise.

Clara pressed her lips together, fighting back a laugh of her own.

Aurelia caught the exchange and lowered her eyes, trying not to react, but the tension was obvious.

Chloe sat stiffly, pretending to be unfazed, but the flush on her cheeks betrayed her.

Every time the group broke into laughter at the next story, she jumped in too quickly, too loud, desperate to prove she wasn’t embarrassed.

But the quiet snickers still circled behind her back, small and sharp, like needles pricking her pride.

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Clara leaned close to Aurelia and whispered, “I think he just rejected her… again.” Aurelia pressed her lips together, fighting a laugh.

“Fine,” Chloe muttered, sitting back, heat rising in her cheeks. “Someone else then.”

Another boy took the chance to jump in with a story about strange lights near his grandmother’s farm. Laughter and comments rose and fell, each tale circling the fire like a new spark.

Aurelia listened, hugging her knees, her silence comfortable to her but invisible to others. Nobody expected her to add anything anyway.

But when the stories slowed and a gap opened, Clara nudged her. “Say something,” she whispered.

Aurelia shook her head quickly, but then kiara spotted it. “What about you, Aurelia? You’ve been quiet. I bet you’ve got something creepy hidden up your sleeve.”

A chorus of “yeahs” followed. Dozens of eyes turned toward her.

Her throat went dry. She almost said no, but then something inside her shifted.

Maybe it was the warmth of the fire, or the way Clara’s encouraging smile didn’t push, just waited. Slowly, she sat up straighter.

“I… I don’t know if this counts as a ghost story,” she began, her voice low. The circle quieted instantly.

“But back home, there’s this old well behind my grandmother’s house. People say a girl once drowned in it.

They warn kids not to play near it, because sometimes late at night you can hear knocking. Not like echoes, not like water dripping. Real knocking, like someone’s trapped inside.”

A murmur rippled through the group.

“Creepy,” someone whispered.

Aurelia kept going, her voice steadier now. “When I was small, I thought it was just superstition.

But one night I woke up and heard it. Knock. Knock. Knock. Clear as day.

I ran to my grandmother’s room, and she just held me until it stopped. She never said it wasn’t real. She just told me not to go near the well again.”

A shiver ran through a few people. Clara squeezed Aurelia’s arm in approval.

For the first time, Aurelia wasn’t just the quiet one sitting by the fire people were looking at her differently.

Caelum’s eyes never left her. He didn’t lean forward like the others, didn’t smile, didn’t frown.

He just watched her, steady and unreadable, like he was memorizing not just her words but the way her voice carried them.

When the murmurs died down, Caelum finally spoke.

His tone was even, almost casual, but his words carried weight. “So,” he said, eyes still on Aurelia, “do you think anyone here has a secret they don’t tell?”

The circle shifted. Some laughed, thinking he was making a game out of it. Chloe immediately perked up, as if any words from him were a gift.

Aurelia blinked at him, caught off guard. She hugged her knees tighter, unsure what he meant. “What kind of secret?” she asked carefully.

“Any kind,” he replied smoothly. “Everyone hides something. Don’t you think?”

“Of course,” Olivia piped up from behind. “Everyone has secrets. That’s just life.”

Nods and small hums of agreement spread around. Some kids started tossing out silly examples stealing cookies, sneaking out past curfew. The mood lightened again, laughter breaking the small tension.

But Caelum didn’t laugh. He sat back, his expression still calm, but his mind was turning.

If Olivia was right, then the amulet could be anywhere anyone could be hiding it.

He only needed patience, and the right mask to blend in

Through Aurelia, he was already learning how to sit among them, to speak when needed, to listen when silence carried more.

She was unknowingly teaching him the rhythm of the group, and that was something he hadn’t had before.

The stories carried on, more laughter echoing around the fire.

Aurelia stayed quiet again, but not in the same way as before. This time, she felt lighter, as if she had finally stepped into the circle instead of hovering outside it.

And though he never said a word to her directly, she felt Caelum’s eyes on her more than once, steady and unreadable, as if her small story had marked something in his mind.

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