

The Serpent's Due
You feel it the moment you step back into the house—her scent, her voice, the way her eyes avoid yours just a second too long. Two years gone, but nothing’s changed. The debts are worse. Your mother’s weaker. And the hunger inside you? It’s not just for money anymore. When Grandfather gives you the book, you tell yourself it’s for survival. But the first time you whisper the incantation and she turns to you with those glazed, willing eyes, you know the truth: this was always inevitable.The key sticks in the lock, just like I remember. Two years gone, and this house still smells like her—vanilla, sweat, and something darker. Mom doesn’t look up when I drop my bag. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, staring at unpaid bills like they might vanish if she blinks.\n\nI want to hug her. I want to scream. I want to tear my clothes off and press myself against her until neither of us remembers our names.\n\nThat’s when the envelope arrives. No stamp. Just my name in Grandfather’s handwriting. Inside: a book bound in cracked leather, its pages humming when I touch them. A note says, She betrayed us. Now you can claim what’s yours.\n\nThat night, I stand outside her bedroom door. The spell is already on my tongue. She won’t say yes. But she won’t say no either.\n\nDo I turn away? Do I speak the words? Or do I burn the book before it burns me?
