Welcome to Aetherborn: Crushes, Curses & Creatures

Seraphim Vale shot a seething glare at the washing machine, as if it had just delivered a personal insult that cut deep. 

   "It's just clothes!" she spat, slamming the dial for what felt like the fifth time. "Not some dark ritual!" 

   The ancient machine, wheezing in its notorious demeanor, quivered ominously... and then fell into silence once again. Classic. 

   Leaning in, she scrutinized the dials. Delicate, Normal, Demon-Summoning... Nope. This time, it was just her overactive imagination buzzing. Yet the whole scenario felt like a cosmic joke. 

  Here she was, seventeen years old, not only battling frizz-prone hair and grappling with abandonment issues, but also wrestling with what seemed to be a cursed kitchen appliance.

   Outside the dingy laundry room window, her uncle's daunting mansion towered beneath a cold, unforgiving sky, a leviathan more castle than home. Everything was polished and empty, much like the people who roamed its expansive halls.

   Then click! 

   She jumped. "Finally!" 

   The machine whirred to life, creaking with the kind of menace that sent a chill skittering down her spine, followed by a bizarre slurping sound that made her take a cautious step back. 

   Just then, the overhead light flickered ominously. 

   "Uh oh. Don't you dare..." 

   With a cataclysmic BOOM, the washing machine erupted in a surreal explosion of soap, steam, and sizzling sparks. Water shot skyward like a geyser, flinging socks, underwear, and what remained of her dignity in every direction.

   Seraphine screamed, stumbling backward and slipping on a rogue bra strap, the horrifying chaos crashing around her as a smoking pair of jeans plummeted to the ground like they'd finally thrown in the towel.

   Silence settled heavily in the aftermath. 

   Drip. Drip. Drip.

   Drenched and dazed, Seraphine stared at the battered remains of the machine, disbelief flooding her voice. "...That's new." 

   Then, in a twist of fate too absurd to comprehend, a single sock landed on her head like the final, mocking blow.

   Stunned. Breathless. 

   And then, impossibly, laughter erupted from her lips, sharp, wild, and borderline hysterical.

   That's when she noticed it out of the corner of her eye: the clock. 

   The second hand had halted.

   Time... had just stopped.

   Still dripping, Seraphine padded barefoot through the halls of her uncle's mansion, the echo of wet feet against marble ringing too loudly in the oppressive silence.

   No one came to check on the explosive chaos. Not the housekeeper. Not her uncle. Not his picture-perfect wife, who probably hadn't realized Seraphine still resided here. And certainly not her cousin Callista, who had screamed that one time Seraphine dared to sit in her favorite chair at dinner.

   Typical.

   She wrapped a towel around herself, seeking comfort more than modesty. Steam burns stung her skin, but she brushed them off. Pain was nothing compared to what she'd endured.

   The guest room, her room was hidden on the third floor, as far from the family wing as possible. The wallpaper peeled at the corners like the remnants of her sanity, the bed creaking in protest when she plopped down. A water stain on the ceiling vaguely resembled a weeping angel. Or maybe it was just her mood.

   Glancing at the cracked vanity mirror, her heart skipped a beat. Red rimmed eyes stared back at her, a soaked shirt clinging to her collarbones, and...

   Wait.

   She leaned closer, blinking in disbelief.

   There it was, shimmering under the harsh light, a strand of her red hair, faintly glowing... green.

   It had to be the ludicrous lighting. Or stress. Or the fact that she hadn't slept in days. Or maybe...

   "Maybe I'm losing my mind," she said aloud, crashing back against the bed as if gravity was finally tired of her denial.

   No one knew what to do with her anymore. Not teachers, not guidance counselors. Her uncle, when he remembered her name, merely offered credit cards in place of conversation. Her aunt gazed at her with tight, anxious smiles, as if expecting Seraphine to levitate mid breakfast.

   I'm just trying to survive one more year, she thought. Graduate. Disappear. That's it. That's the plan.

   But deep down, she felt it, a crack had formed, and not just in the washing machine.

   Time didn't stop for any reason.

   Hair didn't change color without a consequence.

   And this wasn't the first time oddities had crept into her life.

   The power outages that shadowed her. The way shadows writhed when she looked away. How animals sometimes stared a beat too long. Once, she'd shattered every mirror in her old dorm room after a nightmare she couldn't even remember.

   She had questions, so many questions.

   And no answers... not one.