The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, but it did nothing to ease the tension that had settled over Daniel. He had woken up from yet another nightmare, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The vivid images of the antagonist's dark presence lingering in his mind felt too real. He could still hear the cold, menacing whispers urging him to give in, to surrender his will completely. But it wasn't just the antagonist that scared him anymore. It was the guilt—the ever-present, suffocating guilt that he was afraid he couldn't control his own power.
Daniel sat at the edge of his bed, his head buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His breath was shallow, erratic. The room felt too small, too suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on him. He couldn't stop the thoughts from swirling—what if he lost control again? What if the next time, it wasn't just a momentary lapse, but something far worse?
A terrifying image flashed in his mind: a vision of himself, standing over his mother with a knife in his hand. The coldness, the darkness that filled him in that moment—he couldn't shake it. He knew it wasn't him. It couldn't be. But it felt real, and that was what scared him the most.
"What if I hurt her?" His voice cracked in the silence of the room. "What if I can't stop?"
He stood up abruptly, his legs unsteady. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, louder than anything else. He had to get away. He had to go somewhere—anywhere—but the fear of losing control kept him rooted to the spot. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, shaking with a mix of anger and dread.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Dina stepped inside, her eyes soft with concern. Without a word, she walked over to him, sensing the turmoil swirling around him, the way his emotions were frayed and raw. Her twin bond to him had always been a comfort, but today, it felt like a heavy weight. She could feel every ounce of his fear, his guilt. It radiated off him like a storm.
"Daniel," she said quietly, her voice breaking through his spiraling thoughts. "You're not alone in this. You never will be."
Daniel didn't look up, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I'm scared, Dina. I'm scared of what I could do if I lose control again. What if I hurt you? Or Mom?"
Dina knelt beside him, gently lifting his chin so that he would meet her eyes. His expression was a mix of anguish and uncertainty, but she could see the fight in him. The same fight that had always been there, even when he didn't believe in himself.
"You won't hurt us, Daniel," she whispered, her voice firm but comforting. "You're stronger than that. You've always been there for me. Always."
Daniel swallowed, the weight of her words sinking in. But the fear was still there, lingering at the edges of his mind. "But what if I can't control it? What if one day, I can't hold back?"
Dina's eyes softened, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. Through their bond, she felt his fear—but she also felt his love, his protective instinct toward her. "You don't have to face this alone. We're in this together, always."
She took a deep breath and reached out, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened at first, unsure, but then relaxed, allowing himself to hold onto her. Her presence, her warmth, was like a lifeline pulling him back from the edge of his own self-doubt.
For a moment, it felt like everything outside of this room faded away—the fear, the guilt, the threat of the antagonist. It was just the two of them, standing strong together. And that, Daniel realized, was enough to give him the strength to keep going.
But deep down, he knew this wouldn't be over. Not yet. The battle for control, both within him and against the antagonist, was far from finished. But with Dina by his side, maybe—just maybe—he could find a way through it.
Later that day, Dina found herself sitting on the porch steps, the cool breeze brushing against her face. The journal lay on the step next to her, closed but feeling oddly alive, as if it was watching her every move. She hated that it had become such a big part of their lives—how it had brought them answers, yes, but also chaos and uncertainty.
Her fingers fidgeted with a loose thread on her sweater as her mind replayed the latest vision that had struck her during the night. It wasn't the first time she'd woken up gasping for air, heart racing as if she'd just run a marathon. But this one was different. This one felt... closer.
In the vision, she saw flames licking at the walls of their house, Daniel standing in the middle of the chaos with a blank expression, the antagonist's shadow looming over him. Their mother was crying, trying to pull Daniel back, but he didn't move. And then Dina saw herself, standing frozen, unable to do anything but watch.
The helplessness of it all haunted her. Every vision she'd had so far had come true in some way, and she couldn't shake the fear that this one was no different.
"What if I can't stop it?" she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.
She felt a familiar tug in her chest—Daniel's emotions bleeding through their twin bond. He was calmer now, after their talk, but there was still a shadow of doubt lingering in him. It wasn't fair, she thought. None of this was fair. They were just kids. They weren't supposed to be dealing with curses, journals, or menacing shadows from the past.
The door creaked open behind her, and their mother stepped out, her face lined with worry. Evelyn sat down beside her daughter, her gaze distant. "You've been quiet today," she said softly.
Dina shrugged, keeping her eyes on the horizon. "Just... thinking."
Evelyn nodded, as if she understood. "It's hard, isn't it? Seeing things you wish you didn't have to see."
The words caught Dina off guard, and she turned to look at her mother. "Did you ever...?" She hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. "Did you ever feel like you couldn't stop what was coming?"
Evelyn's face grew somber. She reached out, brushing a stray strand of Dina's hair behind her ear. "All the time," she admitted. "But I learned something important: even if you can't stop everything, that doesn't mean you're powerless. Sometimes, just being there, being ready, can make all the difference."
Dina wanted to believe that, but the weight of her visions still pressed heavily on her chest. "I just... I don't want to fail," she whispered.
"You won't," Evelyn said firmly. "You and Daniel—you're stronger than you know. Stronger together."
The words settled into Dina's heart like a small but steady flame. She wasn't sure if she believed them completely, but for now, they were enough to keep her grounded. She glanced at the journal, her fingers itching to open it, to find answers to questions she wasn't even sure how to ask. But she resisted.
Instead, she stood, brushing off her hands. "I'm going to check on Daniel," she said, giving her mother a faint smile.
Evelyn nodded, watching her daughter retreat into the house. As Dina climbed the stairs, she took a deep breath, steeling herself. She might not have all the answers, and the future might still terrify her, but she wasn't going to let her fear paralyze her. Not now. Not ever.
The twins stood in the backyard, their breath visible in the chilly evening air. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the grass. The old man, still trapped in his teenage form, paced back and forth in front of them, his expression sharp and serious.
"You two need to understand something," he began, his voice carrying the weight of years beyond his current appearance. "Your powers will grow stronger, but so will the dangers around you. The stronger you get, the more the antagonist will try to exploit your weaknesses. Fear is his greatest weapon. If you don't learn to master it, he will use it to destroy you."
Daniel shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting to Dina. He could still feel traces of her earlier reassurance lingering in their bond, but his own fear was like a stubborn thorn he couldn't pull out.
"What exactly are we supposed to do?" Dina asked, crossing her arms. "Just pretend we're not scared?"
The old man stopped pacing and turned to face them, his eyes piercing. "No. You don't ignore your fear—you face it. You acknowledge it, and then you take control before it takes control of you."
With a snap of his fingers, the journal appeared in his hand. It floated there, its cover glowing faintly in the dim light. "This," he said, holding it up, "is both your greatest ally and your greatest challenge. Tonight, it will test you."
The twins exchanged uneasy glances. "Test us how?" Daniel asked, his voice tight.
The old man didn't answer directly. Instead, he placed the journal on the ground between them. "Step forward," he commanded.
Dina hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. Daniel followed, though his steps were slower, more hesitant. As soon as they were within arm's reach of the journal, its cover flew open, pages flipping rapidly as if caught in an invisible wind.
The air around them grew colder, and the world seemed to blur and shift. Suddenly, they weren't in their backyard anymore.
---
Inside the Test
Daniel found himself standing in a dark, empty street. The buildings around him were twisted and broken, and the sky was an ominous shade of gray. He could hear faint whispers all around him, growing louder with every step he took.
"You can't protect her," a voice hissed, and Daniel spun around, but no one was there. "You'll fail, just like you always do."
His heart pounded as the whispers morphed into a deafening roar. Shadows began to close in around him, their shapes shifting and writhing.
"No," he muttered, clenching his fists. "That's not true."
But the shadows didn't stop.
Meanwhile, Dina was trapped in a different vision. She was standing in their living room, watching helplessly as flames consumed the house. She could hear her mother screaming, see Daniel standing motionless in the middle of the chaos.
"Do something!" Evelyn cried, but Dina couldn't move. Her feet felt like they were glued to the ground, her hands trembling at her sides.
"I... I can't," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
---
Breaking Through the Fear
In his vision, Daniel's thoughts drifted to Dina. He felt her fear through their bond, faint but persistent. He closed his eyes, blocking out the shadows. "Dina," he whispered, focusing on her presence.
In her vision, Dina heard his voice, faint but clear. "Daniel?" she called out, her voice trembling.
Their bond flared to life, a thread of light connecting them across the darkness of their separate fears.
"Fight it," Daniel said, his voice steadier now. "We can beat this—together."
Dina took a deep breath, the flames around her dimming slightly. She focused on Daniel's presence, on the strength she felt through their connection. "You're right," she said, her voice gaining confidence. "We're stronger together."
The visions began to dissolve, the oppressive fear fading as their bond grew brighter.
---
Back in the Real World
The twins gasped as they were thrust back into the backyard, the journal snapping shut with a finality that echoed in the stillness.
The old man stood before them, a faint smile on his lips. "Good," he said simply. "You passed."
Daniel and Dina exchanged a glance, both of them breathing heavily but feeling a newfound strength coursing through them.
"What was that?" Dina asked, still shaken.
"The journal's way of showing you your fears—and your ability to overcome them," the old man explained. "Remember this feeling, this bond. It will be your greatest weapon against him."
The house was eerily silent after the twins' training. Daniel and Dina sat on the couch, still processing everything. Their mother, Evelyn, stood by the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her gaze was distant, lost in the past.
The old man leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her. "You should tell them," he finally said.
Evelyn exhaled sharply. "I know," she murmured.
Daniel sat forward, frowning. "Tell us what?"
Dina, still sensitive to emotions after their test, felt the weight of their mother's turmoil pressing against her chest. "Mom?" she asked hesitantly.
Evelyn turned to them, her face unreadable. Then, in a quiet voice, she said, "I knew this day would come... I just didn't want it to."
The twins exchanged glances.
Evelyn stepped closer and took a deep breath. "The journal… the curse… it's been in our family for generations. And I—" She swallowed hard. "I was supposed to be its last guardian."
Daniel's stomach twisted. "What do you mean 'supposed to be'?"
The old man answered for her. "She ran from it," he said bluntly. "And because of that… her twin sister paid the price."
Silence filled the room.
Dina stiffened. "Wait—twin sister?"
Evelyn looked down, gripping her arms tightly. "Her name was Eleanor." Her voice trembled. "We were just like you two. She was the bold one. I was cautious. But when the journal chose us, I… I didn't want it. I wanted a normal life. Eleanor, though… she embraced it. She thought we could control it together."
A lump formed in Daniel's throat.
Evelyn continued, voice barely above a whisper. "I told her we should destroy it. She refused. We fought. I left her alone with the journal that night… and by morning, she was gone."
Dina covered her mouth. "Gone? What do you mean?"
Evelyn closed her eyes. "The journal took her. Or… something did." She let out a shaky breath. "I never saw her again."
Daniel's hands curled into fists. "So… you think she's dead?"
Evelyn hesitated, then shook her head. "I don't know."
The old man cleared his throat. "She's not."
All three of them snapped their heads toward him.
"What?" Evelyn's voice was barely audible.
The old man folded his arms. "Your sister didn't die. She was taken by the same force that cursed me. And if your kids don't act fast… they might be the next ones lost."
Silence swallowed the room whole. Dina stared at her mother, her mind struggling to piece together the impossible truth. Their father—the man they had never known, the man Evelyn had refused to speak about—had chosen the very person trying to destroy them.
Daniel clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. "You're telling us… that our own father was working with the antagonist?" His voice wavered between disbelief and anger.
Evelyn nodded, unable to meet his gaze. "I tried to stop him. I thought I could change his mind. But he was too far gone… Just like Elena."
Dina's breath hitched. "What do you mean?"
Evelyn hesitated before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your father and I weren't the only ones drawn to the journal's power. Elena—she wanted to destroy it, just like I did, but… something happened."
The old man stepped forward. His expression was unreadable, but there was an edge to his voice. "She underestimated it."
Dina's pulse quickened. "What does that mean?"
Evelyn swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue. "The journal doesn't just grant power—it consumes. Elena wanted to put an end to it, but instead, it took her."
Daniel frowned. "Took her?"
Evelyn's hands trembled. "Her body… it wasn't found. Only remnants of her presence, echoes of her in the journal's pages." Her voice cracked. "It's as if the journal absorbed her."
A shiver ran down Dina's spine. "You mean… she's trapped inside it?"
Evelyn nodded slowly. "That's why I ran. I thought if I put as much distance between us as possible, the journal wouldn't come for me next." She let out a bitter laugh. "But it seems fate had other plans."
Daniel exhaled sharply, his mind reeling. His dreams—the ones filled with terrifying visions of Elena—suddenly made horrifying sense. He hadn't just been seeing the past. He had been seeing her.
The old man's gaze darkened. "If she's still in there, there might be a way to bring her back. But it won't be easy."
Dina's heart pounded. "Then we have to try."
Daniel wasn't so sure. "And what if she's not the same?" He looked at Evelyn, his voice low. "What if whatever's left of her isn't… human anymore?"
Evelyn's expression was haunted. "That's a risk you may have to take."
Daniel's thoughts spiraled. His mind kept circling back to one thing—Elena was still in the journal. His dreams hadn't just been warnings. They were calls for help.
Dina reached out and grabbed his wrist, sensing the storm inside him through their twin bond. "Daniel," she said softly, "we can't leave her in there."
Daniel closed his eyes. He wanted to agree, but the weight of everything—the journal, the powers, the truth about their father—was suffocating. He exhaled sharply and muttered, "I need air."
Before anyone could stop him, he turned and walked out of the house.
Evelyn made a move to follow, but the old man held up a hand. "Let him be. He needs to process this."
Dina frowned but didn't argue. Deep down, she felt Daniel's conflict—his fear of making a mistake, of being controlled again, of losing himself. She understood, but she also knew they had no choice but to face what was coming.
---
Outside, under the moonlight…
Daniel leaned against the fence, his breath fogging in the cold air. His chest ached with unspoken emotions. What if I fail? What if I make things worse?
The wind whispered through the trees, carrying something with it—a faint voice.
Daniel…
His entire body tensed. The voice was too familiar.
"Elena?" he whispered.
The night air seemed to thicken, wrapping around him like a presence unseen. Then, through the rustling leaves, a faint silhouette appeared—a woman with long, dark hair and piercing eyes.
She was beautiful but… wrong.
Her form flickered, like a glitch in reality.
"You have to stop," she said. Her voice echoed unnaturally.
Daniel swallowed hard. "Stop what?"
She looked at him, her eyes sharp yet desperate. "Trying to save me."
Daniel's heart pounded. "Why? We can bring you back."
Elena took a step closer, her expression unreadable. "You don't understand. I'm part of it now. If you open the door, you won't just find me."
The wind howled, and suddenly, the air felt suffocating. Daniel wasn't alone anymore.
A shadow loomed behind Elena—dark, formless, hungry.
Daniel stumbled back as a whisper—low, guttural, and filled with malice—brushed against his mind.
"Let me in."
His breath caught in his throat. His body stiffened.
The presence tried to seep into him, just like before. The antagonist was watching.
"No," Daniel gritted out. Not this time.
A spark of heat flared inside him, raw and untamed. His body reacted on instinct, and suddenly—fire ignited in his palm.
The shadow recoiled. The connection snapped.
Elena's form flickered again, and for a brief second, she looked terrified.
Then she was gone.
Daniel staggered back, staring at his own trembling hands. He could still feel the lingering darkness, like cold fingers wrapped around his mind.
The antagonist had tested his control again. But this time, Daniel had fought back.
---
Back inside…
Dina shot up from the couch, gasping. She clutched her chest, feeling a sudden burst of fear, fire, and defiance.
Daniel.
Without hesitation, she ran outside.
She found him standing in the yard, his hands still flickering with embers. His breathing was ragged, his face pale.
"Daniel!" Dina grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to meet her gaze. "What happened?"
Daniel swallowed hard. "She was here." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Elena. And… something else."
Dina's stomach twisted. "The antagonist?"
Daniel nodded, his hands shaking. "He tried to control me again."
Dina's grip tightened. "And?"
Daniel took a shaky breath. "I fought back."
Dina's eyes widened.
For the first time since the nightmare began, Daniel didn't just fear the journal's power. He had used it.
And this time, it didn't consume him.
Daniel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. The flames had long since faded, but the warmth still lingered on his skin. His heartbeat had settled, but his mind refused to quiet.
Across the room, Dina watched him carefully. She didn't say anything at first, but he knew she felt everything. The fear. The pain. The loss of control.
"You don't have to hold it in," she finally said.
Daniel exhaled, rubbing his temples. "I almost—" He swallowed, shaking his head. "He almost made me hurt her."
Dina clenched her fists. "But you didn't."
Daniel let out a humorless laugh. "Not this time."
Silence stretched between them. The weight of the night pressed down like a storm cloud.
Then—a whisper.
Daniel's spine went rigid. Dina's breath hitched.
The voice came from the mirror.
Slowly, they turned their heads toward it.
Daniel's reflection sat exactly as he did—same posture, same expression. But then, it moved before he did.
And it smiled.
Cold dread crawled up Daniel's spine. Dina grabbed his wrist, her grip ice cold.
Then, the reflection tilted its head and whispered, "You can't fight forever."
The room plunged into darkness.
Dina screamed.
A second later, the light flickered back on. The mirror was normal again. Just their terrified faces staring back.
Daniel shot to his feet, chest heaving. "He's still inside my head," he whispered.
Dina took a shaky step forward. "But we saw him. That means he's afraid, too."
Daniel turned to her. "How do you figure?"
Dina straightened. "If he wasn't worried, he wouldn't be trying this hard to break you."
Her confidence should have been reassuring. Instead, it sent a chill through Daniel.
If the antagonist was this desperate, what would he do next?
Downstairs, a door slammed.
They both jumped.
"Mom," Dina breathed.
Daniel felt his stomach drop. Evelyn knew.
She had just felt it too.
---
The house felt colder.
Daniel and Dina stood frozen at the top of the stairs. Below them, their mother, Evelyn, stood by the front door, her fingers clenched around the handle. She hadn't even taken off her coat.
The energy in the air was wrong. Heavy. Charged.
Then—a knock at the door.
Evelyn flinched.
Daniel exchanged a wary glance with Dina before slowly descending the stairs. Evelyn hesitated, then opened the door.
Ivy stepped inside.
She wasn't smiling. Her sharp brown eyes immediately scanned the room, as if she could sense something was off. She always had an air of confidence about her, but tonight, she looked more cautious.
"I was passing by," Ivy said, her gaze locking onto Evelyn. "Figured I'd check in."
Evelyn didn't respond.
Dina stepped forward. "Mom—"
"Not now," Evelyn cut in, voice tight.
Ivy's expression darkened. She took a step closer. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
Evelyn's breath hitched.
Daniel narrowed his eyes. "Wait… felt what?"
Ivy looked at him, then at Dina. As if debating whether to tell them the truth.
Then she turned back to Evelyn. "It's happening again, isn't it?"
Daniel's stomach twisted. "Again?"
Evelyn swallowed hard. "It's not the time, Ivy."
Ivy's eyes softened. "If you keep waiting for 'the right time,' you'll lose them too."
Silence.
Daniel and Dina stared at their mother.
Dina's voice was quiet but firm. "You lost Aunt Elena, didn't you?"
Evelyn closed her eyes. Her whole body shook.
Finally, she whispered, "It should have been me."
Dina wakes up in a cold sweat, heart pounding. The vision still lingers—flashes of a dimly lit corridor, a symbol glowing on a stone wall, and a whisper calling her name. The voice is distorted, yet oddly familiar. She grips the sheets, trying to make sense of it, but the more she tries, the faster the details slip away.
Meanwhile, in his room, Daniel stares at the flickering candle on his desk. He didn't touch it, didn't even breathe too hard, yet the flame moves as if aware of him. Earlier, a book had nearly fallen off his shelf when he got annoyed at a memory of the journal's warning. His powers are getting stronger—but why does it feel like they're acting on their own?
The twins don't realize it yet, but these strange occurrences are leading them toward something buried deep in Cedarvale's past—something that the journal has yet to reveal.
Daniel grips the edge of his desk, his breathing uneven. The flickering candlelight dances like it's taunting him. He shakes his head, trying to convince himself it's just a coincidence. It has to be. But deep down, he knows something is wrong.
Then, the temperature in his room drops. His breath comes out in a misty puff. Panic sets in as he stumbles backward, his hands shaking. The wooden surface of his desk glistens with a thin layer of frost. He didn't mean to do that. He didn't even try to.
He swallows hard, his mind racing. This wasn't like when he first awakened his elemental power—it's like his emotions triggered it on their own. Control or be controlled. The words from the journal slam into him like a punch to the gut. What if… what if he's already losing control?
Meanwhile, in the next room, Dina shivers in her sleep, her dreams still haunted by flashes of that eerie symbol.
Morning comes, but Daniel barely sleeps. The frost on his desk from last night is gone, melted into nothing but a damp patch. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. Maybe he overreacted. Yeah… maybe.
Downstairs, Dina is already at the table, stirring her cereal absentmindedly. Her head is somewhere else, no doubt still haunted by her strange visions. Their mom, Evelyn, moves around the kitchen, pretending everything is normal—but Daniel knows she's been watching them differently ever since the old man showed up.
Daniel grabs a glass of water, his fingers tightening around it. His mind tells him he's fine, that he has it under control.
Then—crack.
A thin layer of frost spreads across the glass. Ice creeps up his fingers, faster than he can react. Before he can pull away, the glass shatters in his hand, sending shards skidding across the table.
Dina jumps. Evelyn spins around.
"Daniel?" his mom's voice is sharp, alarmed.
"I—I didn't—" He stares at his trembling hands, his breath coming fast. Dina's eyes narrow, studying him like she knows he's hiding something.
He pushes back his chair abruptly. "I gotta go." Before anyone can stop him, he rushes out the door.