Sage woke to shouting.
That alone wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that the shouting wasn't directed at him.
"—telling you, it was right there!" Mrs. Halden's voice snapped from upstairs. "Right on the table!"
Sage sat up slowly, his heart beginning to pound. He pulled his robe around himself and slipped his feet into his sandals, moving with the same quiet care he always used. As he climbed the basement stairs, the air felt strange—thick, almost warm against his skin. He told himself it was nothing. He always did.
The kitchen looked wrong the moment he stepped inside. Mrs. Halden stood rigid beside the table, her face flushed with anger, while Mr. Halden lingered near the doorway, shifting his weight and scratching the side of his head. Between them was an empty space on the table, cleared so completely it seemed deliberate, as though something had been erased rather than removed.
"What's missing?" Sage asked before he could stop himself.
Both of them turned at once. Mrs. Halden's eyes narrowed, sharp and suspicious, as if she'd been waiting for him to speak.
Don't pretend," she said coldly. There was a letter. Thick paper. No stamp. No address. It didn't belong here."
Mr. Halden snorted, though his laugh sounded forced. "Probably junk mail. One of those scams."
It vanished," Mrs. Halden snapped, cutting him off. I set it down, turned my back, and it was gone. Her gaze slid back to Sage, slow and deliberate. The room seemed to shrink around him.
I didn't take anything, Sage said quickly. I was asleep. You're always sneaking around, she replied. Always downstairs where we can't see you."
Before Sage could respond, a dull thump echoed from below, vibrating faintly through the floor. All three of them froze. Mr. Halden muttered something under his breath about rats, while Mrs. Halden pointed sharply toward the hallway.
"Go check," she ordered.
Sage turned and descended the stairs. With every step, the air grew warmer, humming softly, as if the basement itself were awake. The lightbulb above his mattress swayed gently, though there was no draft. And there, resting neatly on the thin blanket, lay a pale envelope sealed with dark red wax.
He stopped breathing.
Sage knew, without touching it, that the letter was his. His name was written across the front in careful, precise ink—no last name, no explanation. Just Sage. His fingers tingled as he reached for it, a faint warmth spreading through his hands the moment he made contact.
He carried the envelope upstairs and held it out. Mrs. Halden snatched it from him, turning it over with a scowl.
"There's no address," she said. "No sender."
"Open it," Mr. Halden said, leaning closer.
Mrs. Halden tried. The envelope didn't tear. She pulled harder, her face tightening with frustration, but the seal refused to break. Mr. Halden grabbed it from her and yanked at the edges with both hands.
The wax seal flared briefly, glowing red and warm.
Then the envelope vanished.
Mrs. Halden screamed. Mr. Halden stumbled backward, staring at his empty hands. The air around Sage crackled, tightening in his chest until it hurt to breathe. Words pressed at the back of his mind—old, sharp words he did not remember learning.
The envelope drifted back into existence, settling gently into Sage's hands as if it had never left.
Silence filled the kitchen.
Mrs. Halden took a step away from him, her face pale. You did that, she whispered.
Sage looked down at the letter, his pulse racing. The ache in his head faded, replaced by a strange sense of recognition. I think," he said slowly, it was always meant to come back.
He broke the seal. Inside was a single page.
Sage,
You have been observed.
What you are has not gone unnoticed.
Arrangements will be made.
The silence after the letter did not last long.
Mrs. Halden was the first to recover. Her fear hardened into something sharper, uglier, as she turned on Sage with narrowed eyes and a trembling jaw. She accused him of being wrong, of being unnatural, of being a freak they should have never allowed into their home. Her voice rose with every word, filling the kitchen until it felt smaller than ever.
Mr. Halden joined in, louder and crueler, saying they had known from the start that something was off about him. Ever since they took him in, strange things had followed him. Things breaking. Things moving. Things that made no sense. Mrs. Halden said she had always known there was something wrong with him, deep down, but they had ignored it because they needed the government funds. Because the money mattered more than questions. Because he had been the only one left.
They reminded him of it over and over.
No one else wanted you.No one else took you.
Then came the punishment.
No dinner. No scraps. Nothing. They told him to go back to the basement where he belonged, their voices cold and final, as if he were being returned to storage rather than sent away. Sage did not argue. He never did. He turned and walked down the stairs, each step heavier than the last, the letter clenched tightly in his hand.
The basement swallowed him whole.
Sage sat in the darkness, the lightbulb unlit, the shadows pressing in from every corner. The air smelled of dust and damp stone, of things that had been forgotten for too long. His stomach twisted with hunger, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. Angry tears burned in his eyes, spilling down his face before he could stop them.
Why meWhy me
The questions echoed in the dark, unanswered.
He pressed his hands against his face, shoulders shaking as the weight of everything crashed down on him at once. Why did he have to be born with no parents. Why had he been given to people who saw him as a paycheck instead of a child. Why did the world feel determined to keep him small, hidden, and alone.
Sage lay back on the thin mattress, staring into the darkness. His robe felt heavier than before, clinging to him as if it shared his grief. He felt lonely in a way that went deeper than being alone. Lonely in a way that felt permanent.
But beneath the sadness, something stirred.
A slow, quiet heat bloomed in his chest, pushing back against the cold. The letter in his hand pulsed faintly, warm against his skin. For the first time, Sage did not push the feeling away. He let it stay.
Above him, the house creaked as the Haldens moved about their lives, already forgetting him again.
Below it all, in the dark, Sage sat crying and questioning his existence.