CHAPTER 10 — “The Blackwood House”

The Blackwood estate did not welcome.

It endured.

Arrival

The gates opened without being touched.

They always did.

Jenny walked ahead slightly, her usual quiet composure settling over her like armor. Stephanie followed beside her—not behind, not leading—just there.

The rest of the siblings lingered a step back.

Even Kari.

“…I don’t like this place,” she muttered.

“You’re not supposed to,” Jenny said softly.

The House

It wasn’t just old.

It was aware.

Dark wood walls lined with centuries of portraits—each figure watching, judging, remembering.

Candles flickered where there were no flames.

Shadows moved where nothing stood.

“Still dramatic,” Tara noted, eyes gleaming with interest.

“This is restraint,” Jenny replied. “You should see it when it isn’t.”

The Coven

They gathered in a long chamber.

Blackwood family members—varied in age, all sharing that same quiet intensity.

Measured.

Refined.

Dangerous in a way that didn’t need to prove itself.

At the center—

an older woman, poised, elegant, eyes sharp as broken glass.

“Jennifer.”

Jenny straightened slightly.

“Grandmother.”

Grandmother Blackwood

She didn’t smile.

Not fully.

But something softened—barely.

“You’ve brought them,” she said, gaze shifting to the Fantomes.

Stephanie met it without hesitation.

Respectful.

Unyielding.

“Family,” Stephanie said simply.

The woman studied her.

“…Yes,” she said. “I can see why.”

Tension (Subtle, Not Hostile)

“This is unnecessary,” one of the older members said. “Fantomes operate… differently.”

“We operate effectively,” Gage replied flatly.

A faint ripple of amusement passed through the room.

Tara leaned slightly toward Kari. “I like them.”

“They’re judging us,” Kari whispered back.

“We’re judging them too.”

“Fair.”

Jenny’s Place

“Step forward,” her grandmother said.

Jenny did.

The room shifted—not physically, but attention-wise.

Weight settled on her.

Expectation.

Legacy.

“You’ve been active,” her grandmother said.

Jenny didn’t deny it.

“Yes.”

“Independently.”

“Yes.”

A pause.

Then—

“Show me.”

Dizzypixel — Revealed (Here, Not Hidden)

Jenny closed her eyes.

And let go.

The shift was immediate.

Not a transformation—but a release.

Her magic flickered outward—glitch-like, elegant chaos wrapped in precision.

Dizzypixel.

But refined.

Controlled.

Owned.

The room didn’t react loudly.

They didn’t need to.

They understood.

Judgment

“Unorthodox,” one member murmured.

“Unstable,” said another.

“Effective,” her grandmother corrected.

Silence.

Jenny opened her eyes.

“…Am I being corrected?” she asked softly.

A dangerous question.

Her grandmother stepped closer.

“No,” she said.

A beat.

“You’re being acknowledged.”

Stephanie (Watching)

Stephanie observed everything.

The structure.

The restraint.

The weight of expectation placed on Jenny—and how she carried it.

Not perfectly.

But willingly.

Their eyes met briefly.

No words.

Just that same understanding.

A Warning

“Be careful,” her grandmother said quietly.

“Of what?” Jenny asked.

“The world is noticing patterns again.”

Stephanie’s gaze sharpened slightly.

“We’ve noticed that too.”

The older woman looked at her.

“Then you understand.”

A pause.

“Attention invites escalation.”

Departure

As they left—

“You did well,” Stephanie said.

Jenny exhaled softly.

“That was more stressful than any mission.”

“You hid it.”

“I always do.”

Stephanie glanced at her.

“…Not always.”

Jenny smiled slightly.

“Not with you.”