The ancient wooden door groaned open, its protest a familiar melody in the symphony of their secluded lives. Sofia stepped inside, her red-and-gold sneakers barely whispering against the worn floorboards. The warmth of the hearth embraced her, a stark contrast to the chill night air that clung to her leather jacket like a second skin.

Arthur stood by the fireplace, his silhouette carved in flickering orange light. His eyes, a tempest of relief and concern, locked onto his daughter. At the dinner table, James, Ceres, and Sara sat in tense silence.

"You're late," Arthur's voice rumbled, low and controlled. "Where were you?"

Sofia's eyes, defiant yet tinged with a weariness beyond her years, met her father's gaze. "Lost track of time," she said, her tone casual but brittle. "Needed some air so I went to the creek."

"To sketch, right?" James muttered. "Funny how your hands are clean as a whistle."

Sofia shot him a glare. "I washed up before coming in and since when did you become such a snitch?"

"Enough," Arthur growled. "Sofia, I went to the creek. You weren't there."

A flicker of uncertainty passed over Sofia's face, quickly masked by bravado. "Maybe you just missed me. I'm getting pretty good at staying hidden, after all. Isn't that what all this training is for?"

The three siblings, their eyes shifting between Sofia and Arthur. Ceres, eager to break the tension, piped up, "Can I go for walks too? I promise I won't be late!"

"No," Arthur and Sofia said in unison, then shared a look of surprise. James smirked. "At least you two can agree on something."

Arthur's gaze dropped to Sofia's feet, noting the scuff marks on her new sneakers. "Those are new. Where did you get them?"

Sofia shifted, her posture a mixture of defiance and discomfort. "Found them in the forest. Lucky break, right?"

Arthur wasn't convinced but continued on. "Sit down, Sofia," he said, his voice low and controlled. "It's time to eat."

Sofia hesitated, then slid into her chair, her eyes never leaving her father's face. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat," Arthur insisted. "We have training after this."

Sofia's shoulders tensed, a coiled spring of frustration. "Can't it wait? We've been at it for weeks without a break."

"Maybe if you'd been home on time, you wouldn't have to," James said, a hint of resentment in his voice.

Sofia turned on her brother. "Oh, like you're so perfect? At least I can control my powers without setting the curtains on fire."

James' cheeks flushed red. "That was one time!"

"The Blood Moon Hunt is in five days, Sofia," Arthur countered, his tone brooking no argument. "We can't afford to slack off."

"And then what?" Sofia's voice rose, raw emotion seeping through the cracks in her composure. "Another hunt? More hiding? When does it end?"

James scoffed. "Here we go again."

Sofia rounded on him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're not the only one who feels trapped," James snapped. "But at least some of us understand why we need to stay hidden."

"By suffocating us?" Sofia's voice rose. "Mom wouldn't have wanted this. She believed in us, in our potential."

"Do not!" Arthur's tone was sharp. A painful silence fell at the mention of their mother. Arthur's voice was tight when he spoke again. "You do not know what your mother wanted."

"And we never will," Sofia shot back, her eyes blazing.

The room fell silent, the weight of unspoken fears pressing down on them all. Arthur's expression softened, a glimpse of the father beneath the protector. "I saw your mother's letter in your room," he said quietly. "You've been thinking about her mission, haven't you?"

Sofia's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with determination. "I'm ready to complete what she started. To understand these powers, to make a difference."

Arthur shook his head, his voice firm but not unkind. "Not yet, the hunt is coming, it's too dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Sofia scoffed, gesturing around the room. "Look at us, Dad. We're not living, we're just... existing. Hiding from a world we barely understand."

Arthur's face tightened with concern. "You think we're hiding because we enjoy it? It's not just about survival. It's about managing risks—risks you don't fully understand yet."

He paused, his gaze intense. "The very things that could get you killed? That almost did, when you were younger?"

Sofia's eyes flashed with frustration. "I haven't been sick in ages, Dad! My powers, they're getting stronger. I can control them now, if you'd just let me—"

Arthur cut her off, his voice unyielding. "I understand that you're eager, but there are still risks you don't fully grasp. Until we understand the full extent of your abilities, we can't risk exposure.

Sofia's shoulders slumped. "I know, Dad. But... don't you ever wonder if there's more to life than just hiding and preparing for some nebulous threat? I'm ready to face whatever's out there. I need answers, not more drills."

A heavy quietude descended, the crackling of the flame the only retort to her declaration. Her siblings exchanged furtive looks, their forks suspended mid-air, as if afraid to stir the pot of tension any further.

"Let's eat," Arthur finally said, gesturing towards the food with a weary hand. He took his seat at the head of the table, the chair groaning under his weight. His knife sliced through the steak with practiced ease, a stark contrast to the awkward silence that had settled over them.

Sofia, however, was far from appeased. She withdrew a creased parchment from her pocket, the paper crackling. As her eyes scanned the ancient script, a frown creased Arthur's brow. "Sofia. This is neither the time nor the place." he chided, the edge in his voice sharp enough to slice through her concentration.

She met his gaze, defiance flickering before it was snuffed out by resignation. With a muted sigh, the parchment folded into silence and was placed back inside the jacket. The wood of the table seemed to grow colder under her touch, a reflection of the strained atmosphere that had settled over them like an uninvited fog.

Arthur turned his attention to Ceres, who was now absently stirring his glass of water with a finger, creating miniature whirlpools. "Ceres, playing with your food—or your powers—during mealtime is not acceptable."

"Is it so wrong to have a bit of fun?" Ceres retorted, but his eyes didn't meet their father's.

"Your definition of 'fun' could, and already did, flood this house if left unchecked," Arthur said, though the corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile.

Ceres stopped and started to eat. He struggled with his steak, the knife slipping against the tough meat. A bead of sweat formed on his brow as he concentrated, willing the utensil to obey.

"Easy, brother," she teased quietly. "The beast is already slain."

Ceres scowled. "I've got it under control."

"Like you had the dishes under control earlier?" Arthur's voice cut through the air, sharp as the knife Ceres fumbled with. Arthur and helped him cut his steak.

Ceres' face flushed. "I didn't mean to-"

"He was pretty impressive, actually," Sofia interrupted, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Did you see how fast those plates were spinning, Ceres?"

A smile tugged at Ceres' lips despite his best efforts. "You should've seen it, Sofia. I had them dancing at one point!"

"Dancing straight into a mess, your powers can do more than just wash dishes," Arthur replied sharply, his fingers tightening around his cutlery. "They can crush bones as easily as you crush leaves in Autumn—with or without your intent."

Arthur grumbled, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He turned to James, who sat silently picking at his food. "At least one of you knows how to keep a low profile. James did what he was told, without mistakes! He deserves praise."

Ceres scowled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Taking all day to start a fire deserves praise?"

James shot back, his tone defensive. "At least I didn't flood the house."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, his voice firm and authoritative. "Enough! It's normal to—"

"Normal?" James cut him off, his voice rising in frustration. "What do you know about normal, Dad? What do any of us know about being normal? I want to be normal!"

Arthur's jaw clenched, and he abruptly snapped the plate he had been cutting.

Ceres, shrinking in his seat, muttered, "He's just upset because he's terrible with his powers."

Irritated beyond measure, James ignited a small flame above Ceres' head. The fire flickered dangerously as Ceres, with a wave of his hand, levitated a stream of water from his glass to extinguish it.

"Water puts out fire... idiot," Ceres said coldly.

James leapt from his seat, fists clenched, and lunged at Ceres.

"Enough!" Arthur's roar cut through the chaos, but it was already too late. The small flame James had created exploded into a blazing inferno, igniting the heart, and sending flames licking up around him. At the same moment, Ceres' controlled water surged uncontrollably, flooding the room.

The clash between James and Ceres erupted into a chaotic whirlwind of elemental power. The room was a battleground, a mix of fire, water, and frustration.

Ceres, his face flushed with frustration, struggled to keep his abilities under control. He lashed out, sending a torrent of water crashing into James, who was trying to keep his small flames under control. The fire sputtered and danced dangerously, reflecting James's mounting anger.

James scowled as he dodged the water. "You think you're so perfect with your water tricks, Ceres? Well, look who's flooding the place!"

"At least I'm not setting everything on fire!" Ceres shot back, redirecting a wave of water towards James's flames, sending steam hissing into the air.

Arthur was already moving, his hands gripping two large barrels of sand and salt. With practiced ease, he poured the contents over the flames, trying to smother them before they could spread further. The sand and salt mixture began to absorb the fire's heat, creating a makeshift barrier against the blaze.

As Arthur fought to contain the fire and water, the thick metal door to the heart slammed shut, stopping the fire from getting worse. Sofia, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, felt a surge of panic. She knew she needed to help, but her powers were not always easy to control either.

"Enough!" Sofia's voice pierced the tension as she rose, her feet planted firmly amidst the chaos. Her hands stretched out before her, palms facing the battling brothers, and she willed the air around her to heed her silent command. The gust that followed her intent was fierce, a manifestation of her own inner turmoil, sweeping away plates and utensils in a clatter as the wooden dinner table upended with a heavy thud.

The sudden whirlwind of force caused James and Ceres to freeze mid-conflict, their expressions a mix of surprise and shame. Drenched curtains flapped wildly, and the last remnants of Arthur's patience seemed to evaporate into the stormy room.

"Is this what we've become?" Arthur's voice cracked, his frustration a tangible thing that writhed in the dimly lit space. He seized the lantern from its perch, the flame inside dancing like a caged creature. "A family who can't even sit for supper without descending into pandemonium?"

"Father—" Sofia began, but he held up a hand to silence her.

For a long moment, Arthur was silent. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached for the broom propped in the corner.

"Your mother's lantern," he said, his voice thick with memory. "She used it to guide us through the darkest nights."

Sofia's eyes widened. "Dad, I--"

"You want to prove yourself?" Arthur held out the broom. "Then light our way. Find us a new dinner, since your brothers ruined this one."

Sofia's fingers wrapped around the handle of the broom. The straw bristles shivered as if in anticipation of the night's hunt, a paltry beacon against the enveloping darkness that awaited them outside. She slung the broom over her shoulder with a deceptive casualness, the way she might have carried a schoolbag in another life.

Arthur's hand closed around the haft of his axe, its well-worn grip speaking of countless nights spent warding off threats both seen and unseen. He hefted it with a practiced ease, the blade catching the dim firelight and flashing a sinister promise.

"Careful with those," Arthur muttered, his eyes lingering on the knives as Sofia secured them to her waistband. Each blade slid home with a soft snick, their edges glinting like crescent moons destined for bloodletting. They were slender and unassuming, yet in Sofia's deft hands, they became extensions of her will, sharp and unforgiving.

"James," Arthur said, turning toward his son whose gaze lay heavy upon the chaotic scene before him. "Keep watch over Ceres and Sara. No more nonsense tonight, understood?"

James nodded, a mixture of pride and apprehension on his face.

As they prepared to leave, Sofia donned her armor pieces – shoulder guards and wrist protectors that had seen better days but still gleamed with potential.

Arthur paused at the threshold, his hand on the doorframe where intricate protective runes were carved. "Remember," he said, his voice low. "We hunt to survive, not for glory. Stay close, stay quiet, and--"

"--stay human," Sofia finished, a sad smile playing on her lips. "I remember, Dad."

With a final nod to James, they stepped out into the night. The protective circle flickered to life around them, a shimmering barrier between their world and the dangers that lurked beyond.

As they ventured into the dark forest, Sofia couldn't shake the feeling that this hunt would be different. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside. Tonight, she would prove herself worthy of her mother's legacy – not just as a hunter, but as a protector of her family and perhaps, someday, of something greater.

The night swallowed them, leaving behind a house filled with tension, hope, and the lingering scent of scorched wood and unspoken fears.

"Did you know that someone wrote "Fuck you all" on that brick up there?"

The nurse followed my finger up to a shockingly high point on the brick pillar to our right, scanned the waxy scrawling, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, there's some crazy stuff up there." She pointed her pen toward the bulky brick pillars scattered through the common room. You'll see a lot of it around here. Some people even write their actual names and phone numbers."

"I did see a good joke over there." I pointed to the pillar on our left and read the words out loud. "What's the difference between a dirty bus stop and a lobster with breast implants? One's a crusty bus station and the other's a busty crustacean."

The nurse and I shared a gentle laugh and reflected on creative, damaged minds, as if we were strangers making small talk. This was just another day at the office for her. I shared a similar sentiment. She opened up a red folder and slid it across the plastic table.

"This is a copy of everything that you've signed so far and just some general information about how we do things here. There are some personal items that you weren't allowed to keep, which you'll sign off on later. We have your valuables locked in a safe in the administrative office and if you need access to your personal items, you'll have to ask one of the nurses. You're not allowed to have your phone, but you are free to write down a few numbers out of it We did have to take your bra, because of the underwire, but you can have someone bring you clothes or anything else you need starting tomorrow. "

The nurse pointed to a highlighted four digit number on one of the sheets inside the folder.

"This is your code, okay? So anyone who wants to call you here and check on you has to have this code. This is the number for the nurse's station. The phones are shut off during group and mealtimes because we want to encourage you to go. They're turned off around 9:30 at night and are turned back on at 7:30 in the morning. "

She turned her attention to the smartwatch on her wrist and then peered over my shoulder at the plexiglass encased office in the middle of the open room.

"Looks like it's time shift change. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Do you guys have snacks or something? I haven't eaten since about 10." It was 7:30 at night. Now that I'd calmed down, my appetite had returned.

"We might actually have a plate leftover from dinner. Let me check with one of the girls and see if we've got something for you. Go ahead and have a seat over here." She gestured to a a grouping of tables and chairs nestled in front of a large flat-screen TV encased in a heavy-duty plastic shell.

I struggled to pull a chair from underneath the table. The nurse said all the chairs were weighted, so that they couldn't be thrown. The first of many reminders as to where I would be for the next four days. She said goodbye, and that I would probably see her again in a couple soon. She walked away, sneakers squeaking across the grungy tile and I shifted uncomfortably in the weighted chair, exhausted and vulnerable, my armor cracking further with each passing minute.