There were no birds here..Not anymore.
They used to come in the early mornings—sparrows, thrushes, the occasional bold jay. They'd perch on the crooked fence posts, steal the seeds from her planter boxes, and chatter as if they were part of the family. But one by one, they stopped coming. Whether it was the wards or the silence that drove them off, she didn’t know. Now, even the wind felt cautious here.
Leah crouched among the garden rows, fingers sunk into cool, dark soil. Her hands moved with quiet rhythm, tugging weeds from between the roots of her Philomena's. The petals were soft and shimmered with an iridecent shine, reflecting colors of pinks and purples. She hummed softly under her breath—an old tune, maybe a lullaby, maybe something she imagined once in a dream. It helped fill the stillness. The garden was thriving, at least. It always did. Maybe the magic that kept her trapped also nourished the land, or maybe it was her. Either way, it bloomed while the rest of the world remained out of reach.
Her gaze flicked toward the edge of the property, where the low fence stood like a threadbare seam between this space and everything beyond. Runes glowed faintly along its posts—an almost imperceptible shimmer, easy to miss unless you were looking. But Leah had always been looking. It was the kind of magic that didn’t hum loudly or shine bright. It whispered, breathed, even waited in silence. The kind that didn’t just keep people out—it kept her in.
She’d tested it once. Just once. Her fingertips had brushed the barrier and heat surged like wildfire through her bones. She could still recall the scent of singed fabric and the sharp ache that lingered for days after. No marks. No scars. Just the memory, branded into her nerves.
They said it was for her protection, but she didn’t believe them.
With a sigh, Leah sank back on her heels and wiped her hands on the fabric of her skirts. The dirt left soft smudges across the mossy green. She liked this dress—it made her feel like a part of the garden, even if she was just another rooted thing within it. She tilted her head up toward the sky. Pale blue stretched overhead, scattered with slow-moving clouds. She liked to imagine what was beyond them—forests, mountains, cities bustling with life. People who didn’t speak in riddles or magic or measured silence. People who didn’t look at her with pity… or fear. She closed her eyes. For a moment, she let herself pretend she was somewhere else.
But today..something shifted.
A breeze stirred, not like the usual gentle wind that carried birdsong and the smell of damp earth, but sharp, unfamiliar. Leah stilled. Both of her parents were home, and she knew for certain that no one was meant to visit. It wasn't time for the weekly trip into town nor the postman leaving notary..
Someone was here. Someone new. The wards hadn’t flared, yet. That meant they weren’t a threat. Slowly, Leah stood, brushing soil from her palms. Her eyes flicked toward the treeline just beyond the shimmer of the boundary. Someone was approaching, but who?
"Hello? Is someone out there?"
They used to come in the early mornings—sparrows, thrushes, the occasional bold jay. They'd perch on the crooked fence posts, steal the seeds from her planter boxes, and chatter as if they were part of the family. But one by one, they stopped coming. Whether it was the wards or the silence that drove them off, she didn’t know. Now, even the wind felt cautious here.
Leah crouched among the garden rows, fingers sunk into cool, dark soil. Her hands moved with quiet rhythm, tugging weeds from between the roots of her Philomena's. The petals were soft and shimmered with an iridecent shine, reflecting colors of pinks and purples. She hummed softly under her breath—an old tune, maybe a lullaby, maybe something she imagined once in a dream. It helped fill the stillness. The garden was thriving, at least. It always did. Maybe the magic that kept her trapped also nourished the land, or maybe it was her. Either way, it bloomed while the rest of the world remained out of reach.
Her gaze flicked toward the edge of the property, where the low fence stood like a threadbare seam between this space and everything beyond. Runes glowed faintly along its posts—an almost imperceptible shimmer, easy to miss unless you were looking. But Leah had always been looking. It was the kind of magic that didn’t hum loudly or shine bright. It whispered, breathed, even waited in silence. The kind that didn’t just keep people out—it kept her in.
She’d tested it once. Just once. Her fingertips had brushed the barrier and heat surged like wildfire through her bones. She could still recall the scent of singed fabric and the sharp ache that lingered for days after. No marks. No scars. Just the memory, branded into her nerves.
They said it was for her protection, but she didn’t believe them.
With a sigh, Leah sank back on her heels and wiped her hands on the fabric of her skirts. The dirt left soft smudges across the mossy green. She liked this dress—it made her feel like a part of the garden, even if she was just another rooted thing within it. She tilted her head up toward the sky. Pale blue stretched overhead, scattered with slow-moving clouds. She liked to imagine what was beyond them—forests, mountains, cities bustling with life. People who didn’t speak in riddles or magic or measured silence. People who didn’t look at her with pity… or fear. She closed her eyes. For a moment, she let herself pretend she was somewhere else.
But today..something shifted.
A breeze stirred, not like the usual gentle wind that carried birdsong and the smell of damp earth, but sharp, unfamiliar. Leah stilled. Both of her parents were home, and she knew for certain that no one was meant to visit. It wasn't time for the weekly trip into town nor the postman leaving notary..
Someone was here. Someone new. The wards hadn’t flared, yet. That meant they weren’t a threat. Slowly, Leah stood, brushing soil from her palms. Her eyes flicked toward the treeline just beyond the shimmer of the boundary. Someone was approaching, but who?
"Hello? Is someone out there?"
