We had just moved into an old Victorian house, and we were still unpacking when my birthday came around; the occasion was bittersweet as the whole house was preoccupied with chores and unpacking boxes. I'm pretty sure that, with all the chaos, my family forgot it was my birthday. As the middle child of four kids with parents who never stop working, it's easy to be overlooked; Massie left early this morning, stealing the car and leaving, probably to drive three hours to see her boyfriend. Mom and Dad were livid when they woke up this morning to find that one of their cars was missing; they ran out of the house, taking Amy and May, the twins, with them, leaving me in an unfamiliar place. In their haste, they forgot I was still eating breakfast at the kitchen table. When they finally noticed, they just sent me a text saying how sorry they were; I didn't bother to reply, rolling my eyes and placing the phone on the table. And once again, I'm stuck being alone.

Around noon, Dad called, informing me that they were making their way back along with a quick happy birthday before hanging up. I decided to wander around the empty, quiet house, opening and closing doors until I found a door that opened to a staircase. I was about to climb the stairs that could only lead to the attic, but the doorbell ringing made me pause, deciding whether to ignore it or see who it was. I was about to go up the stairs when the doorbell rang again; huffing, I shut the door and made my way to the front door, opening it up to see a mailman holding a package. We both awkwardly stood there staring at each other, "Oh, cool, I wasn't sure if anyone was living here. Well, here's your package. Have a good day."

"Oh. Uh, ok, thanks?" I shut the door behind me with my foot and turned the box around, wondering who sent it, but I did not see a return address anywhere. Shrugging, I just decided to open the box because why not? No one is here, and it is my birthday. Going back to the kitchen to get a knife since I didn't know where the scissors were and didn't feel like going through boxes; setting the box on the table and carefully slicing through the thin tape on top and both sides, placing the knife down making it clatter on the table next to me. I opened the box, removed the packaging materials, and pulled out a fancy pair of 3D glasses. They were heavy in my small hands and twirling them around, they were perplexing; I didn't think they made 3D glasses so… sturdy. The frames were a deep matte black, the material was undecipherable, the glasses were too heavy for them to be made out of plastic, and it didn't feel like wood but had the smoothness of metal. They must have been handmade, but why go through so much trouble to make 3D glasses? Why would someone send something like this, and who sent it? Placing the glasses on the other side of the box opposite the steak knife, I dug through the box some more, trying to find some clues about its sender.

After looking for some time, I found a small handwritten letter: 'Dear current resident, I would like not to frighten you, but the house you just recently started to inhabit is filled with many secrets. Secrets that are hidden within the many walls of the ancient abode. For your protection, I have sent a pair of glasses that, if worn, will enable the wearer to see the invisible. P.S. The beings on the other side can only be seen while wearing the glasses. DO NOT let them pass any barriers. Also, if you wish to adventure past the safe space, make sure you always wear the glasses. Signed A Friend. P.P.S. Happy Birthday!'

I must've read the letter a dozen times, and my brain refuses to understand any of it. But curiosity got the best of me, and I put the glasses on. To no surprise, everything was the same besides everything having a tint to it from the tinted lenses of the glasses, which gave me a headache. Taking them off, I stuffed the glasses and letter in my hoodie pocket. I just decided to return to the attic staircase, not worrying about the mysterious person and how they knew it was my birthday; nope, I won't think about that. Instead, I focused on the attic, wondering if the previous owners may have left some things behind. What creepy stuff would be hidden in an old house?

Here I am again, this time with no distractions. Opening the door, I stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the long, narrow space. Gulping, a chill could be felt around me. A feeling I couldn't place engulfed me, but what was it? Why was I feeling this way? I did not have this feeling earlier. I couldn't move, so I went into my hoodie pocket, wrapping my hand around the glasses. They were warmer than they should be from being in my pocket. It was unnatural. I held on to them as I willed my legs to move, slowly making my way up the creaky steps as the light faded away the closer I got to the top using my other hand and pulled my phone out of my back pocket, turning the flashlight on I stopped on the third step to the landing hesitating for a minute before taking the last steps.

The attic was much bigger than I expected and utterly empty of what I could see. The floorboards squeaked with every step; taking my time across the room, not wanting to fall through the ancient wood beneath me. I went to the front of the attic, surprised to see cardboard boxes stuffed deep in a dark corner. The boxes didn't look like the ones we brought, and I am trying to remember if anyone has been up here. I get down on my knees to inspect the boxes and peel open the nicer-looking one. To my utter disappointment, it was filled with old leather-bound books, pictures, and loose journal entries. I pull the glasses out of my pocket and slip them on. I don't know why. It was just a feeling I had, something telling me I was missing something, and the glasses would help me find it.

Pulling books and papers out of the box and setting them in a neat pile next to me, I shuffled through it more, looking for… something. It was like a force came over me, and I couldn't stop until I found it. I was on the verge of giving up and moving to the other box when my fingers grazed over a metal object. Grabbing and pulling the object out to get a look at it, I found that it was a small bronze key. It felt heavy in my hand as I twirled it around. It was cold to the touch, like ice. Placing the glasses on top of my head to get a better look at the key without the distorted color of the glasses. The key was gone, but the weirder thing was that I could still feel the coldness of the key between my fingers. A little freaked, I quickly placed the glasses back, and the key came into view. The glasses really do let you see the invisible; a smile crept onto my face as excitement coursed through my body. What else is up here? My heart raced at the thought of discovering any more hidden objects. I tightly gripped the key in my hand, not wanting to lose it while I explored more of the attic. I realized I didn't need the light from my phone anymore, not while I wore glasses. I turned the light off on my phone, placing it back in my back pocket.

I went over to the other side of the attic after putting the contents back in the box and gently closing it. The other side was darker, hidden behind a separation wall. The attic might have been used as a room at one point. I suddenly stopped and stared at the wall, perplexed at what I saw: a door that shouldn't be there. I move my glasses up and down in front of my eyes and watch in wonder as the door appears and disappears. Stepping closer, I wrapped a hand around the ice-cold handle and tried to turn it, but it didn't budge. Disappointed, I was about to leave when a cool breeze hit the back of my neck. Startled, I turned to see nothing there. Looking down, I noticed the key still tightly gripped in my hand, and a thought passed my mind: an invisible key for an invisible door. A sly smile graced my lips, my heart pounding, my palms starting to sweat, and my excitement getting the best of me. My hand shook as I inserted the key, and a bubble of laughter passed my lips, happy that it fit. Gently turning the key, an audible click could be heard in the deathly still attic. Pulling the key out and placing it in my hoodie's pocket. I tried the handle again, and it turned freely this time. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and opened the door. I stood there, eyes still closed, as I felt the sensation of a cool breeze engulf me, inhaling the fresh salty air. Finally, I opened my eyes; I couldn't wait to see what I discovered. A small gasp passed my lips as my eyes grew wide as I took in the scene before me: a night sky filled with thousands of twinkling stars so close I could touch them. Thick fog covered the ground, making it impossible to see; the billowy cold fog crept in through the open door, snaking around my ankles, making me giggle from the tickling cold sensation.

I was about to take that step into the unknown when I heard a door slamming and heated, angry voices. My smile dropped as I quickly closed the door, locked it, placed the glasses and key in my pocket, and went downstairs. For once, it didn't bother me that my family had forgotten my birthday or that my parents were still clearly mad at my older sister. This had become my favorite birthday ever and the best gift I had ever received.

It was a typical night with my parents and little brother when all our phones blared with an emergency alert about an incident in our neighborhood; we all shared perplexed looks just as the power went out. My little brother, Max, peered out the living room window, noting that all the lights in the neighborhood had gone out. Dad returned with candles and flashlights, setting them on the coffee table and handing each of us a flashlight. "The emergency alert doesn't give any information on what's going on," my mother muttered on the couch beside me. Max and I moaned at the news; we were stuck in the dark for however long it would take for it to come back on. "Don't know why you bothered. Like the government would tell people what's happening." Dad rebuttal, Max gave an excited yell accompanied by a fist pump; Mom tried to calm the boys down while I huddled on the couch wrapped in a blanket. I do well in the dark. "It seems the whole city's power is out," Mother muttered again under her breath, and yes, she is always on her phone. She never puts it down. Dad kept going on about conspiracy theories that involved how shady the government was, including alien cover-ups, but no one was listening. Max was still looking out the window. It's not like he is going to see anything. I played with the flashlight, flickering it off and on. Trying to keep my mind occupied with something other than the looming darkness. It was probably nothing major. An hour passed, and the power was still out; after Dad finished his rant and Mom pulled Max away from the window, Dad suggested we play a nice soothing game of Monopoly, which turned out to be the opposite; the four of us surrounds our small coffee table, the board game in the center, and a few lit candles on each side. Max was currently winning like always; Mom didn't want to play as usual, so she's the banker and making sure no one cheats; I'm referring to Dad. He likes to cheat a lot. I was still a bundle of nerves; it was too quiet. I couldn't help but feel like there was a sense of foreboding in the air. Dad landed in jail once again as a deep rumbling could be heard from a distance; everyone paused as we continued to listen; it didn't sound like any plane we had ever heard. In fact, it didn't sound like a plane at all. The house began to shake as the thing passed over; lights flashed in through the windows. Max ran out the front door to get a better look, ignoring our parents' calling for him back. I hesitantly followed behind, finding everyone staring up into the sky, mouths agape, along with everyone else in the neighborhood. I looked up, and what I saw made my blood run cold; who knew one of my Dad's crazy conspiracies would be true? But here I am looking at something that could only be true in science fiction movies; we really aren't alone in the universe after all. We were transfixed long after the thing had passed; breaking the silent night was the emergency alert going off throughout the area, pulling us out of our reverie to check what it could be. Tapping on the notification, a video popped up. I hesitated to play the video, but I didn't need to. Max had already played it. The speaker's voice echoed throughout the dark as other videos started playing. As the video went on, I clutched the blanket tighter around my body, trying to keep the cold out of my veins, but it wasn't working; the visitors, as the spokesperson puts it, are here to stay. We, the people of Earth, have to learn to live together with strange beings from another planet. My mind raced with possibilities, the thought of not knowing what they had planned, what they were doing here, and whether we could trust them. Max is ecstatic about the news of an alien species living among us. Mom keeps her poker face, not giving away how she feels about this situation, and Dad, well, he is just happy that he was right. I gazed at where the thing flew off, wondering if this was the right choice. When the speaker finished their announcement, the lights in the neighborhood flickered back on, and everyone went back into their own houses; not seeming too concerned about what we had witnessed, I stayed behind on the lawn, looking to the skies, hoping that this feeling I had was wrong. But what could this mean for humanity?

Journal Entry December 12, 1998 I received good news today: My wife and I are having a baby. I'm over the moon with this news, but my wife not so much. She is happy, but the future of our child can either be a happy one or a grave one; my wife, knowing the consequences, is wracked with fear and anxiety. I am not sure if I should be writing this down. Still, since I am writing this in a language only a handful of people know. My wife's family is… unique. There is a prophecy of sorts that surrounds the women of the Knotley family. A girl whose magical abilities would rival her ancestors and could end the realms as we know it will be born. Over the centuries, the magical abilities of the Knotley family have decreased, and there is a possibility that our child would not possess any magic at all.

Journal Entry September 9, 1999 Our daughter, Amelia, was born today at precisely nine o'clock PM. She had a peculiar birthmark on her left temple that had mysteriously disappeared nine hours after birth. Margaret saw it as a sign. I tried to reassure her that nothing would happen. It had been too long, and the magic was dwindling through the times, my wife being the last Knotley ever to have any magic. (If only I knew then what I do now, I would have been more cautious)

Journal Entry December 20, 1999 This year is Fastly coming to an end, and with each year passing, more and more creatures are breaking through. We have yet to find out how; for now, we are just focusing on the more dangerous ones. In my research, I have discovered a heavily reported spotting of strange creatures far north in a small town called Cypress. We have gotten many warnings from Margret's family about going there; they believe for a witch, it is a death sentence, and there's a reason why the Knotley family doesn't live there anymore. It is our only lead in stopping this infestation. With so many sightings, it must mean an opening somewhere. (I was a fool)

Journals Entry March 5, 2000 The move was successful. We found a house for sale on the outskirts of town. It has been empty for some time; word has it that it might be haunted, and it took some time to unpack between our work and taking care of our new baby. Still, today marks the day we have officially moved into our new place. My wife has been acting strange lately. She had been spacing out with a glazed look as she stared out the kitchen window, muttering words under her breath. I'm concerned about what this place may be doing to her. Just earlier today, she blurted out, "The energies are wrong. Two powers are clashing." When I asked what she meant, she didn't answer and continued staring out the window. (I should have looked more into it. should have done more for her, for both of them) I may have pinpointed where the creatures could be coming through; I set out tomorrow to check out the area.

Journal Entry November 18, 2005 Margaret is doing better, but I fear for our daughter's safety. We had to pull her out of school. Kids were not kind to her, knowing she was a Knotley. The parents were unhappy about their kids going to school with a witch. Margaret has been homeschooling her for now. We've been working with a sorcerer named Ven; he says he is in charge of keeping the portals closed between realms, but for some reason, they have been opening without his knowledge. He's been trying to fix it for some time now. (we shouldn't have trusted him) We devised a plan: Ven and I would go out and hunt the creatures and shove them back into the other realm while Margaret stayed with Amy. (Amelia is far more powerful than we have thought. What can we do to control it?)

Journal Entry May 5, 2010 I'm losing my mind between the creatures and handling Amelia and her little problem. Her powers are connected to her emotions; Margaret has been trying to keep Amy calm, but nothing seems to work. Ven has been a great help over the years as a man of magic. He knows what to do; he taught us how to make a tea that will keep Amelia's powers under control (the tea was a mistake. It acted more like a drug. We fear what would happen if she stops drinking it. Would her powers come back full force? This isn't the way to help her, but we don't know what else to do.)

Journal Entry June 10, 2010 We can't take her off the tea. We've tried. It's never good when she doesn't have it. She was in hysterics the other day, screaming about a vision she saw that made us both pale. Amy relayed her vision, tears streaking down her cheeks, a hot cup of tea clutched in her hands. She saw us in the forest surrounded by headstones (the old witch cemetery); a storm raged around us as we fought a mysterious cloaked figure with a birdman, his hands engulfed in flames (Xelalle Moonfall). Lightning flashed, and all fell silent. The vision could have been anything, but we fear something grave will come to us while on a mission. Ven says there shouldn't be anything we need to worry about; he said he could take care of it. I need to have faith in his capabilities. (shouldn't have trusted him)

Journal Entry Ven says they are coming; we have a lot to prepare. They are becoming more powerful, but where are they getting it from? I have my suspicions of Ven. He may be hiding something. What can I do? Margaret is too calm about this whole thing. She says not to worry, but how can I not?

Journal Entry October 31, 2015 We set out tonight. Ven will meet us there in the old cemetery. The weather outside is glum. Let's hope the storm doesn't come in. A weight hangs above us all as if everyone knows the dire outcome of tonight. I've been reviewing past journal entries (I was too naïve). Later, I will hide all of our research, for if something ever happens to us, Amy will never know what her parents were working on, and if she does and can read them, I hope she will understand. Amelia hasn't had any problems over the past years, and we are grateful. She is still drinking the tea. (if anyone finds my journals, know you can't trust Ven. He has hidden important information. The other realm was once part of this world; the prophecy we knew was wrong. A Knotley witch can bring destruction, but peace shall come to both worlds.) Ven has found information on the strange birthmark that appeared on Amelia's temple when she was born; the birthmark is a magic symbol marking Amelia as the one to either save or destroy the world. (Ven must stay away from her. She mustn't know what she is and the power she possesses).

Crime Scene Report – Summary

Victim Information: Name – Gnikmor Race – Gnome Occupation – None Home Address – Gnome Cabin #12 Located in the Dark Forest west of the waterfall

Description of Crime Scene: Crime Scene Address – Cottage #12 Dark Forest west of the waterfall Position of Victim – Sitting, hunched over to the left side on the front porch rocking chair. The chest seems to have caved in on itself, but not from force. Possible Murder Weapons – A dark purple glass vial that was found broken at the bottom of the porch’s steps.

Initial Coroner’s Findings: Time of Death – Undetermined Cause of Death – Liquified lungs and ribcage. Possibly caused by poison?

Notes: After analyzing the contents in the purple vial, I found that it contained a poison, but not one
previously cataloged. It is clear now that this substance has been artificially produced, making the components harder to trace. For now, we will continue to analyze the glass vial to see if we can get any leads. I have never seen glass like this before, and the only results we have been getting are unknown to the system. The investigation is at a standstill with no other leading clues and witnesses.

The day started like any other Saturday morning, with rain casting the town in a dark gray haze. The rain was steady but light as I made my way down the sparse streets of the town. I hummed a random tune as I twirled the umbrella, hopping from puddle to puddle, splashing rainwater on my pants. Saturday mornings always put me in a good mood. It is the one day a week I can visit my favorite place in the world, an old bookstore. The old brick building shows its age compared to the modern shops surrounding it.

Shaking the water off the umbrella as I stop in front of the bookstore and open the heavy wooden doors to another century that is the store's interior, engulfing me in a warm, welcoming embrace. Standing at the store entrance, I looked around as a strange feeling came over me, a light electrical charge in my fingertips. I quickly brushed it off, sticking the wet umbrella in my bag that hangs loosely off my shoulder, and made my way down the many aisles of worn vintage books. The smell of old paper is prominent in the air as I inhale deeply, enjoying the smell of it all. I could not shake the feeling of static that hung around me, making a mental note that the atmosphere felt different today.

The old bookstore had always been my escape, but today, it felt different, almost magical. This bookstore has always had a magical feeling; it was part of its charm, but this was different, more physical in a sense. Picking a book from the shelves and scanning the cover before opening and flicking through the thin yellow pages, spotting hand-drawn pictures of plants along with the plant's descriptions. Balancing the book in one hand as I used the other to brush my hair behind my ear, I thought I saw something in the corner of my eye looking in the same direction, wondering if anyone else was here. Closing the book and placing it back on the shelf, I followed where I thought I had seen something move. As I made my way deeper into the store, a place I rarely ventured to, I continued to see things in the corner of my eyes, but when I turned my head to get a better look, whatever it could be was already gone; nothing can move that fast, right?

A low muttering could be heard as I got closer to the back of the store. Timidly moving around a corner of the last shelving, I found a scene that should not have been possible; flying books whizzed from everywhere around the store, almost smacking me in the face if I hadn't moved at the last second. I stared at what I was witnessing: a man sitting at a long table surrounded by piles of books as he mumbled to himself, reading from a large book. Walking up to the table, dodging books along the way, a few hit me, making them fall to the floor, where they lay stunned before getting back up and continuing their previous path.

"Uh… Hello?" The man doesn't answer and continues to frantically read from the book he is currently hunched over. Shuffling my feet back and forth, wringing my fingers together from the awkwardness I began to feel at that moment, maybe he didn't hear me? I leaned over the table and gave the man's shoulder a few gentle taps. In doing so, the man jerks up, knocking books to the floor. Startled by his fast, jerky movements I t, rip over my feet, but I was able to catch myself before I could fall. Back on steady feat, I stared wide-eyed at the man for a minute, the dim lighting obscuring his features.

"What are you doing here," realizing I was there, he frantically started cleaning the books around him, grabbing a book in mid-air as it was floating by trying to hide the fact that the books had been flying around the bookstore. "You're not supposed to be here. The store is closed for the day." He steps out from around the table, rushes over to me, and proceeds to usher me out of the store with his hand on my shoulder. "you should leave."

My mind swirled with what I witnessed; I had difficulty processing it all, along with the many questions bouncing around my skull. Digging my heels into the carpet, stopping us abruptly, I turned around to face this strange, pushy man. "What was that? This isn't really a bookstore, is it," I wasn't leaving until I got some answers.

He lets out a deep sigh, glancing around the room and thinking of how to word his following sentence, "this may be a bookstore on the outside, but on the inside, it is far more than that. This place is a sanctuary to all magical beings," the man paused, strutting over to a nearby shelf and pulling out a book. As it started to glow in his hands, the book changed from a fabric-torn cover to a dark red leather that looked brand new, gasping at the sight, quickly covering my mouth from embarrassment. I was frozen on the spot. He glanced over at me and then back to the book, gently placing it back in its spot as it turned back to the original cover. "Most humans can't see the magic side of the store, so please keep this a secret." He was pleading with me; our eyes met again; I could see the fear behind them, fear of what would happen to this store if word ever got out about it being magic. I know how people can get when it comes to things that are different, breaking eye contact; I take in the store around me, just noticing the many out-of-place objects that wouldn't make sense in a regular bookstore, like the many ancient-looking vases, glass jars with questionable liquids, and the many paper scrolls that are scattered here and there around the store, but this isn't a regular bookstore. I had always felt this place contained magic; I never knew that feeling would be true.