Chapter 57: CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The camp was quiet that night. Too quiet.
Most of the students had already fallen asleep after the long day the bus ride, the excitement, the campfire drama.
But Aurelia lay in her tent with her eyes wide open, staring at the thin roof above her. Sleep wouldn’t come.
Every time she closed her eyes, she coughed again in her memory, the heat of the fire still fresh on her skin.
Finally, she sat up, pulled a sweater over her nightshirt, and slipped outside.
The air hit her instantly cool, sharp, and fresh. The kind of air that made her chest feel open again after all that smoke.
She hugged her sweater close, walking slowly toward the edge of the camp where the trees began.
Crickets chirped in the tall grass. The moon hung low, throwing silver light across the ground.
She breathed in deeply. “Better,” she whispered to herself.
But then
The amulet.
It was faint at first, just a soft vibration against her skin. Aurelia frowned and pressed her hand to her chest.
The stone glowed weakly, a pale shimmer that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Her stomach dropped. Not again.
She quickly yanked the chain out from under her shirt, staring at the faint glow.
Panic bubbled up in her throat. What if someone saw? What if Clara wandered out for water and spotted it? What excuse could she give this time?
“No, no, no,” she muttered under her breath, shoving it back under her shirt, pressing her palm hard against it as if she could silence it by force.
Her heart raced until the glow faded, leaving only the ordinary coolness of the stone.
She leaned against a tree, shutting her eyes. “Please, not here. Not now.”
Her chest rose and fell heavily. She couldn’t let anyone see. Not when she didn’t even understand it herself.
Just as her breathing slowed, her phone buzzed softly in her pocket.
She pulled it out and froze at the name flashing across the screen: Grandma.
Aurelia swallowed and pressed accept.
Her grandmother’s warm face filled the screen, lined with age but glowing with that familiar softness.
“My sweet girl,” Grandma said, her voice gentle but firm. “I was about to call earlier, but I didn’t want to disturb you at camp.”
Aurelia forced a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hi, Grandma. Yeah… we’re all settled.”
“Good. Are you taking care of yourself? Eating? Drinking enough water?”
“Yes, Grandma.”
“Are you staying out of trouble?”
Aurelia’s lips quirked. “Of course. I don’t go looking for trouble.”
Her grandmother smiled knowingly. “Sometimes, trouble finds us even when we don’t ask for it.”
Aurelia’s chest tightened. For a moment, she thought Grandma somehow knew about the fire earlier.
But she shook it off quickly. “Everything’s fine,” she said, though the words came out weaker than she wanted.
Grandma studied her face for a long moment, then sighed softly. “Aurelia…” Her tone shifted, heavier now, serious in that way Aurelia both respected and resented.
“I must remind you again. Never take off the amulet. Not for anyone. Not for any reason.”
Aurelia froze at the firmness in her grandmother’s voice.
It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t even just advice. It was a command. One that left no room for argument.
Her hand instinctively rose to her chest, pressing over the chain that lay warm against her skin.
The stone felt heavier than usual, as if it understood the weight of her grandmother’s words.
She could almost feel its pulse beneath her palmsteady, alive, like it had its own secret heartbeat.
Aurelia swallowed hard. “I know,” she whispered, but the words didn’t carry the conviction she wished they did.
The truth was she didn’t fully know.
She didn’t know why this necklace was such a big deal, why Grandma’s eyes always darkened whenever it came up, why her parents had given it to her before they were gone.
All she knew was that she wasn’t supposed to take it off.
But that wasn’t enough anymore.
As she sat there, staring at her grandmother’s face glowing softly on the screen, Aurelia’s chest ached with a swirl of emotions.
Obedience, because she loved her grandmother and trusted her. Frustration, because she was tired of being told half-truths.
Fear, because deep down she sensed the warnings weren’t just superstition—they meant something bigger. Something dangerous.
Her fingers curled tighter around the chain. She wanted to ask why.
. Why not for anyone? Not for any reason? Did that include her best friend Clara? Did that include moments like tonight, when the stone glowed and nearly gave her away?
Her lips parted as if she might ask. But when she saw her grandmother’s steady, pleading eyes on the screen, the words died in her throat.
So she just nodded weakly and said again, softer this time, “I know.”
But inside, she didn’t feel like she knew anything at all.
“And,” Grandma added, her eyes sharp now, “don’t bring it out of your clothes. Keep it tucked away. Always.”
Aurelia chewed her lip. “Grandma… why do you care so much about this necklace? You always say my parents gave it to me, but you never tell me why it’s so important.”
Her grandmother’s expression softened, but she didn’t answer directly. “Because it is the last gift they gave you. And because it is yours.
Some things are not meant to be shared or explained to everyone, Aurelia. They are meant to be protected.”
Aurelia shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to push, to demand a real answer, but her throat tightened.
“I don’t like keeping secrets from my friends,” she muttered, her voice small. “It feels wrong. Clara’s my best friend, but I can’t even tell her.”
“You must not,” Grandma said firmly, though her eyes were still kind. “This is not a matter of friendship or trust. It is a matter of safety.”
“Safety?” Aurelia frowned. “How can a necklace keep me safe? Or… put me in danger?”
Her grandmother’s silence said more than words ever could.
Finally, she sighed. “You don’t need to carry this weight yet, child. Just promise me you’ll listen.”
Aurelia’s chest ached. She wanted to shout that she was old enough, that she deserved to know. But instead, she nodded weakly. “I promise.”
Grandma’s face softened again, her voice gentler. “That’s my girl. You are stronger than you think, Aurelia. Stronger than you realize.”
Aurelia swallowed hard, blinking fast. She didn’t want to cry over a video call, not when Clara was in the next tent and could wake up at any noise.
“I love you, Grandma,” she whispered.
“I love you more. Now rest. Tomorrow will be another long day.”
The call ended, and the screen went black.
Aurelia sat in the dark, staring at her reflection in the phone.
Her eyes were tired, her hair messy, her expression caught between frustration and fear.
She pulled the amulet out again, staring at its faint shimmer before tucking it deep under her shirt.
“Why are you such a big deal?” she whispered to it.
No answer, of course. Just the quiet night pressing in around her.
She crawled back into her tent, curling up under the blanket.
Her mind still raced—her grandmother’s warnings, the glow, th
e fire, Caelum’s blunt words at the campfire—all tangled together in her head.
She shut her eyes tightly and whispered into the dark, “I pray I don’t end up teleporting here.”
The words slipped out like a half-joke, half-desperate plea.
And with that, exhaustion finally pulled her under, carrying her into restless dreams.