Chapter 1 The Words In The Dark

The first scream tore through the house at 2:17 in the morning.

Lilith woke with a gasp.

For one disorienting second, she lay still beside her husband, listening to the silence that followed. Then another scream came from upstairs.

“Margo!”

Carl was already out of bed.

They ran into the hallway, their bare feet striking the wooden floor. A thin strip of light spilled from beneath their daughter’s bedroom door, and the sound coming from inside made Lilith’s stomach twist.

Margo was screaming again.

Not the frightened cry of someone waking from an ordinary nightmare. This was different. Raw. Desperate. Almost as if someone were hurting her.

Carl reached the door first and pushed it open.

“Margo, sweetheart!”

Their seventeen-year-old daughter thrashed beneath her blankets, her long, curly blonde hair tangled around her face. Her hands clawed at the sheets, and her breathing came in sharp, broken gasps.

“Stop!” she cried.

Then she spoke again.

But the words weren’t English.

Lilith froze in the doorway.

The sounds spilling from Margo’s mouth were strange, harsh and ancient, the syllables tumbling together in a rhythm that seemed to crawl beneath Lilith’s skin. She couldn’t understand most of them. She had never studied that language, never heard it spoken in any ordinary conversation.

And yet—

No.

It couldn’t be.

Carl reached the bed and gently caught Margo’s wrists before she could hurt herself.

“Sweetheart, wake up. You’re dreaming. You’re safe.”

Margo jerked violently, nearly striking him in the face.

“Don’t let them take it!” she screamed in English.

Her eyes flew open.

For a moment, she stared straight ahead without seeming to see either of them. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Then her gaze snapped toward Carl.

“Dad?”

“I’m here.” He immediately released her wrists and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

Margo looked around the room as if she didn’t recognize it. Her eyes darted to the window, the wardrobe, the shadows gathered in the corners.

Then she began to cry.

Carl pulled her into his arms.

“It’s okay. It was a nightmare. You’re home. Nothing can hurt you here.”

She clung to him, trembling so hard that Lilith could see it even from the doorway.

Lilith forced herself to move.

She sat on Margo’s other side and brushed the damp curls away from her daughter’s forehead.

“Look at me, darling. You’re safe.”

Margo tried to take a deep breath, but it caught halfway. She pressed her face against Carl’s shoulder.

“I couldn’t get away,” she whispered. “I kept trying, but I couldn’t move.”

“Get away from what?” Carl asked softly.

Margo shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

Her voice was small and exhausted. She swallowed, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her hand.

“There were voices. I couldn’t see anyone. They kept saying something, and I couldn’t make them stop.”

Lilith’s fingers went cold.

“What were they saying, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” Margo squeezed her eyes shut. “I couldn’t understand them. I just knew they wanted something from me.”

She shuddered.

“And then I started saying those words too.”

Lilith stared at her daughter.

The words.

She had heard them before.

Seventeen years ago.

For one impossible instant, the bedroom disappeared, replaced by a memory Lilith had spent years carefully locking away: a gathering in Silverpine, a newborn’s cry, the hush that had fallen over a room full of wolves, and an old woman standing near the cradle.

A witch.

The woman had spoken in that same strange language. Lilith remembered the sound of it, though she had never understood every word. She remembered the way the room had seemed to hold its breath while the witch spoke.

And she remembered the feeling that something had happened that day—something no one could explain.

Something Lilith had never told her daughter about.

“Mum?”

Margo’s voice pulled her back.

Lilith blinked. Her daughter was watching her now, her blue eyes red-rimmed and frightened.

“What is it?” Margo asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

For a fraction of a second, Lilith considered telling her.

Then she looked at Carl. He was rubbing Margo’s back, his face creased with worry. He hadn’t recognized the language. He hadn’t seen what Lilith had seen in her memory.

She couldn’t explain something she barely understood herself.

“Nothing, darling,” she said, making her voice gentle. “I’m just worried about you.”

Margo studied her for another moment, as though she wasn’t entirely convinced. But she was too exhausted to question her mother further.

Carl reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and handed it to her.

“Here. Take a little sip.”

Margo obeyed. Her hands shook so badly that some of the water spilled onto the blanket.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

Carl frowned. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

She lowered the glass.

Lilith noticed the movement then.

When Margo lifted her arm, the sleeve of her oversized sleep shirt slipped toward her shoulder.

A dark bruise marked the skin above her elbow.

Lilith stopped breathing.

“Margo,” she whispered. “What happened to your arm?”

Her daughter immediately pulled the sleeve down.

“Nothing.”

Carl’s expression changed.

He had noticed the bruise too.

“Sweetheart, let me see.”

“Dad, it’s fine.”

“Margo.”

There was no anger in his voice, only the quiet firmness she had known all her life. It made her look down at her hands.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she slowly pushed up her sleeve.

The bruise was not alone.

Another shadowed mark circled her wrist. There was a faint discoloration near her elbow, and when she shifted beneath the blanket, Lilith caught sight of a yellowing bruise along her upper arm.

Carl went very still.

“Where did these come from?”

Margo’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Did someone hurt you?” Lilith asked.

The question seemed to break something inside her daughter.

Her eyes filled again.

“No,” she whispered automatically.

Lilith reached for her hand. “Darling, you don’t have to protect anyone from us.”

Margo stared at their joined hands.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

Carl’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice gentle. “We’re your parents. Worrying about you is part of the job.”

A tiny, miserable laugh escaped her.

“I’m seventeen, Dad. I thought I was supposed to be able to handle things myself.”

“Being seventeen doesn’t mean you have to handle everything alone.”

Margo looked between them. Whatever answer she had prepared seemed to disappear beneath the weight of their concern.

“I just want everything to stop,” she whispered.

Lilith pulled her daughter into a careful embrace, avoiding the bruises.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Margo buried her face against her mother’s shoulder. She didn’t explain the marks. She didn’t tell them who had caused them. But she held on to Lilith as if she had been trying to do everything alone for far too long.

Carl stayed beside them, one hand resting protectively on Margo’s back.

Little by little, her breathing slowed.

The tears stopped. Her trembling eased. Eventually, exhaustion began to pull her toward sleep again.

“Will you stay?” Margo murmured.

“Of course,” Carl said.

“Both of you?”

Lilith kissed her forehead. “We’re not going anywhere.”

They remained beside her until her eyes finally closed. Even then, Margo’s fingers stayed curled around her mother’s hand.

Lilith watched her sleep.

The bruises were real. The fear had been real. And those words—

She could still hear the ancient syllables echoing through her mind.

Seventeen years ago, she had promised herself she would never let an old mystery overshadow her daughter’s life. Whatever had happened in Silverpine, it had seemed distant then, a strange moment connected to a day Lilith barely knew how to explain.

She had believed time would make it less important.

Now her daughter had screamed those same words in her sleep.

Lilith gently eased her hand free and tucked the blanket around Margo’s shoulders.

Carl rose with her, his eyes lingering on the bruises.

“We need to find out what’s happening,” he whispered.

Lilith nodded.

She wanted to tell him about the witch. About the words. About the memory that had returned so vividly it frightened her more than the nightmare itself.

But the bedroom felt too quiet, and Margo looked so peaceful now that Lilith couldn’t bear the thought of bringing more fear into the room.

“Let her rest first,” she said.

Carl looked at her, searching her face.

“Lilith, do you know something?”

Her heart lurched.

For one dangerous moment, she nearly answered honestly.

Instead, she glanced toward their sleeping daughter.

“I know she’s hurting,” she said quietly. “And we can’t let her keep hurting alone.”

It wasn’t a lie.

But it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

Carl didn’t press her. He bent to kiss Margo’s forehead, then followed Lilith into the hallway.

She closed the bedroom door almost all the way, leaving a narrow gap so they could hear if Margo woke again.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Lilith took out her phone.

Carl watched as she searched for her mother’s number.

“Who are you calling?”

“Mum.”

“Elizabeth? At this hour?”

Lilith nodded, her fingers tightening around the phone.

“I need to talk to her.”

Carl studied her expression but said nothing more.

The call rang once.

Twice.

Then a sleepy voice answered.

“Lilith? Is everything all right?”

Lilith closed her eyes.

“No, Mum. I’m afraid it isn’t.”

Her mother’s voice sharpened immediately. “What’s happened?”

Lilith glanced toward Margo’s bedroom.

“Our daughter isn’t all right. She’s frightened, and she’s been hurt. Tonight she had a nightmare unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“What kind of nightmare?”

Lilith hesitated.

She could still hear the words. She could still remember the witch speaking them all those years ago.

“I can’t explain it over the phone,” she said at last. “But I think Margo needs to come to Silverpine for the summer. She needs you and Dad. She needs somewhere she can breathe, away from whatever is happening here.”

There was a pause on the other end.

Then Elizabeth’s voice softened.

“Bring her home to us, sweetheart.”

Lilith’s eyes stung.

“Do you think that’s the right thing to do?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth answered, without hesitation. “Whatever she’s going through, she shouldn’t have to face it alone.”

Carl moved closer so he could hear.

“We’ll arrange it,” he said quietly.

Lilith relayed his words to her mother, and together they began discussing the practical details: when Margo could travel, what she would need to bring, and how soon they could get her to Silverpine.

But even as they made plans, Lilith’s thoughts remained trapped in the past.

The nightmare had frightened her.

The bruises had filled her with anger.

Yet neither unsettled her as deeply as the words her daughter had spoken.

Because Lilith remembered those words.

And she had spent seventeen years hoping she would never hear them again.