The same afternoon of the donut encounter, in a gilded tearoom with lush carpeting and notes of classical music filling the air, the woman who'd tried her very first donut sipped tea from a bone china cup. She sat at a corner table across from two men whose backs were exposed to the dining room. One was broad-shouldered, with sandy brown hair cut short at the sides, and the other was a leaner man with thick black curls falling to his ears.

"Are you certain Madam Quillfern?" said the first in an Australian accent.

"I really do insist you call me Eve when we're out of the compound," she said warmly.

The sandy-brown haired head shook in disagreement, face still unseen to anyone but Madam Quillfern. "It isn't right to be so informal."

"As you wish," she replied, adjusting the feather in her hair.

"So you're certain then?" he asked. "Because there isn't much time for her to learn everything."

Madam Quillfern nodded. "My vision was confirmed when I encountered her in person. Her glow is the brightest I've ever seen, which isn't a surprise considering--"

"Should we really be sitting by the window?" the curly-haired man interjected, his words delivered in an Indian accent that sounded almost regal. "I fear we are too exposed."

Madam Quillfern waved her hand in an unconcerned fashion. "Don't be bothered with any of that, he surely isn't looking for us here. And besides...I suspect he's far too focused on counting down the days until his wicked deed." She narrowed her eyes. "But it blinds him, and that's our distinct advantage."

"Along with her," added the sandy-haired man. "She'll be the difference that destroys him; won't she?"

A grave look appeared on Madam Quillfern's face. "She will certainly have to, or I'm afraid we don't really have a chance..."

***

As night fell on a sketchy street in Longwood in the south Bronx, Sheera approached a run-down apartment complex in serious need of repairs. She struggled to balance a bag of laundry and a box of donuts as she kicked open the door.

With the laundry machines in Sheera's building broken yet again, Aunt Ruth had asked her to pick up the wash so she could focus on making dinner. It had all been fine until Sheera noticed the soap dispenser wasn't actually dispensing. A few hours and two loads later she'd finally made it home.

Sweat beads began to form on Sheera's forehead as she trudged past the 'out of service' elevator sign and straight up three flights to apartment 306. As she set down the bags and fumbled for her keys, she found her gaze drifting to apartment 308. She sighed for a nostalgic moment before eventually unlocking the door.

Inside apartment 306, the Lansen family's weeknight routine was afoot; Aunt Ruth — still in her nurse's uniform — tended to a pot of stew in the cramped kitchen, while Uncle Neil tinkered with a broken toaster. The chances of him succeeding were pretty good considering he was a mechanic, but that didn't stop the sounds of frustration from grumbling out of his lips.

In the adjoining living room with the old TV and faded floral couches, thirteen-year-old Maddie struggled her way through her homework, while her fifteen-year-old cousin Ethan aimed a vintage iPhone with a cracked screen at various angles of the room. "I stole the Wi-Fi from the Johnsons again," he said proudly. "Anyone need to Google a medical condition?" He snickered to himself as he plopped onto the couch.

"I should have never let you get that iPhone," Aunt Ruth said sighing.

"You didn't," he reminded her. "I traded for it."

As all of this was happening Sheera pushed her way inside. "Anyone want some donuts?"

"Yesss!" cried Ethan. "Any new flavors today?" He bounded towards her and swiped the box from her arms.

"Ever heard of dragon fruit?" she said smiling.

He sneered. "Whatever it is, it sounds gross." He dropped the box onto the table and raced for his phone. "I'm gonna Google it!"

Aunt Ruth turned her attention from the pot to Sheera. "Could you fold the laundry before dinner?"

Sheera wiped the sweat from her forehead and smiled. "Sure." She dragged the bag of laundry past Maddie on her way to the bedroom. "Reading anything good?"

"Jane Eyre," she replied in a monotone voice.

Sheera turned back with an unabashed grin. "That's one of my favorite books!"

Maddie shrugged. "They're making us read it for school."

Sheera retrieved her enthusiasm and packed it away accordingly, remembering how little she related to the typical teen.

She opened the door to the bedroom on the left. Inside was a mash up of comic books, fashion magazines, old action figures and hair accessories, with a bunk bed for Ethan and Maddie, and a single bed for Sheera in the corner. She dumped the laundry onto the bed and dove in, eager for the therapeutic task of folding.

It had been nearly five years since Sheera had first moved in, and despite the fact that everyone was well beyond the typical adjustment period, she occasionally still felt the weight of being a burden on the Lansen family's life. It wasn't that they treated her any differently, and she'd been calling them aunt and uncle for as long as she could remember, but being their permanent 'add-on dependent' had never been the plan. Then again life didn't always go as planned, like when Sheera's mother died and left her as an orphan until the longtime neighbors swooped in.

Once the paperwork was filed and the Lansens became her foster parents, Sheera moved out of apartment 308, though the journey was far too short to ever escape the painful past. From then on, she always did her best not to seem like a burden to the Lansens, but the stigma of the 'other' was often apparent. Like in this room that had never been intended for three teens.

In some other ways, Sheera felt needed and essential, and as soon as she'd gotten a part-time job that feeling became stronger than ever. At first Aunt Ruth and Uncle Neil had refused to take her contributions, but their struggle to make ends meet was impossible to hide. After much back and forth on the sticky topic of money, she'd simply started leaving an envelope of cash on their nightstand twice a month. The first few times, the envelope would miraculously reappear on her pillow unopened, but on one occasion, after a particularly difficult month of dealing with repairs to the kitchen ceiling, the envelope didn't come back. That singular moment had filled Sheera with a sense of purpose, and while it might not have made much sense to the average teen, having zero money for shopping or the movies had never felt so good.

After that first time, the envelopes were accepted without any discussion. And so, as the Lansen household made the slow climb out of debt, Sheera slid into the world of high school graduates who couldn't afford to go to college. She was secretly a little disappointed, until she remembered that delaying her plans for a year or two meant the Lansens getting back on their feet.

"Everything is fine," she whispered, in a way that made it seem like she'd repeated that mantra many times before.

Once the clothes were all folded and organized into their respective piles, Sheera opened the bedroom door and poked her head out. Aunt Ruth still seemed busy with dinner preparations, so Sheera stepped back inside and pulled a shoebox from underneath her bed.

The box contained a collection of humble mementos, and Sheera smiled nostalgically as she pulled each one out. Her next birthday was less than a week away, and in these times she always found herself thinking about her mother. She pulled out a photo of herself as a toddler being held by her mother Priya. No one would ever call her a spitting image of her Indian mother—likely due to the fact that her father was a white American—but despite the obvious differences she knew they had the same brown eyes. This fact was more apparent to Sheera than ever, as she studied the old photo of her captivating mother. There was an older picture of Priya with her husband Dale, but whenever Sheera stared at it she felt a little unsettled.

Priya had met Dale while he'd been travelling around India on behalf of a not-for-profit. They'd fallen in love almost immediately, but it ended up scandalizing her entire family, to the point where they publicly disowned her. Crushed from being banished but still deeply in love, she ran away with him to travel the world and join him in his effort to help others. It was only when they'd settled in New York and officially gotten married...that she realized the man she loved was someone else entirely. That was how she'd explained it to Sheera, on that one brief occasion she'd explained it at all; that he'd found out she was pregnant and had changed into someone else. Someone who was ever so keen to help strangers, but refused to do the same for his family.

He left Priya before Sheera was even born, but miraculously her mother had never seemed bitter. Instead she would say how grateful she was for a life of travelling and seeing so much, and she'd hoped that one day Sheera would see everything too.

Sheera glanced behind her at the view outside the window. She was met with an unremarkable city block, where buildings obscured what would've been a glowing full moon. She hadn't been anywhere and had barely seen anything, but as she stared out at those ugly buildings, she was hopeful she still had plenty of time to do both...

***

Later that night, Ethan, Maddie and Sheera settled into their nighttime routines. Ethan struggled to watch YouTube videos on his crappy phone, Maddie chatted with one of her friends on the landline, and Sheera read from a cookbook she'd taken out of the library. This time it was a book about cozy comfort food from India, something she only knew from when her mother had been nostalgic enough to cook the occasional curry or chickpeas in onion gravy.

"Turn down that stupid video!" cried Maddie.

Maddie's words pulled Sheera back into the teenage universe, a place she still technically resided in, even if it seldom felt that way. She closed the book and hopped out of bed. "I'm gonna go sit on the fire escape."

Ethan and Maddie simply shrugged as she opened the window.

Outside in the cool night air, Sheera could hear a couple arguing and the meows of a hungry cat. She instinctively glanced at the balcony to her right, remembering a thousand and one nights with her mother, when she would hear about the thousand and one things her mother had seen. She wiped a tear and when her eyes refocused, she noticed a scarf hanging off the third step of the fire escape. A purple scarf. She was convinced it hadn't been there a second earlier, but how was it in plain view now? In a flash she remembered the woman from the donut shop, the one who'd had the very same scarf draped over her pin-striped suit.

Sheera peered out into the night, suddenly paranoid and nervous. The street now seemed empty and eerily quiet, with the couple's argument over and the meowing cat now hopefully fed. She'd read enough books to sense how this moment was usually the preface to serial killers going on a rampage.

"Not today," she said fiercely.

She got up fast and reached for the window, but before she could push it open, a note card on personalized stationery flew past her and landed on the center of the windowpane.

It was the stationery of one Evil Quillfern, her name embossed in shiny purple letters. The handwritten note contained the following message:

"You have a talent for making donuts, Sheera Oden, but what if you had a talent for saving the world? Meet me at the bar on 83 Blackbird Ave to learn more.
Best, Madam Quillfern"

Sheera stared at the note in disbelief. This woman was clearly an unstable stalker. Why else would she send a note like this? Or wear a feather in hair? And how did she know Sheera's last name? And was the donut shop encounter her sick little pre-killing appetizer?

The best thing to do was rip up the note and discard it, but Sheera couldn't shake a sudden feeling that the woman was helpful and wise. It felt like a beacon shining from inside, trying to signal that whatever this was, it wasn't the type of thing to ignore.

But how could something that might be important literally make no sense?

Sheera slid the note into her pocket and climbed back into the room. She was paranoid that Maddie or Ethan had seen her take it, but Maddie was still in the midst of her call, while Ethan was still enraptured by some YouTube idol.

"You guys," she whispered.

Neither of them heard her or at least they pretended not to.

"You guys!" she said more loudly.

"What?!" they both cried in irritated sync.

"I uhh...need to go out. But it's late and I don't want anyone to worry, so uhh...I'm gonna go out through the fire escape. Just keep the window unlocked and don't tell anyone; okay?"

"Hold on," said Maddie into the phone. She placed her hand on the receiver. "Oh my god, do you finally have a date?"

Maddie's words made Sheera realize how painfully obvious her lack of a teenage dating life really was.

"Yes," Sheera replied, deciding it was easier to have a fake date than to explain the bizarre invitation. "I have a date."

"I hope you're gonna change first," said Maddie.

Ethan nodded. "And put on some lipstick for god's sake."

She gasped and threw a pillow at Ethan. He laughed and threw one back and Maddie was next, but before things could get too crazy she quieted them down. "Let's not wake them or it ruins the whole point!"

They nodded and went back to their nightly routines, as Sheera prepared for a mysterious and hopefully non-serial-killing evening...

***

Sheera made her way through an East Village block that exuded a surprisingly charming rawness. After passing a busy tattoo parlor and a recycled furniture shop, she started to process the particulars of the meeting.

A rendezvous with a peculiar stranger?

In a bar? When she was only seventeen?

What if there was a bouncer who demanded to see her I.D.?

As she turned onto Blackbird Avenue and approached number eighty-three, there wasn't any sign of a bouncer and the place didn't even have a name. All she saw was a neon-lit arrow pointing to a basement-level door.

She pushed the heavy door and it slowly creaked open, leading her into a cozy low-lit bar. Two strange young men stood on either side of the door, but she forgot they were even there when she spotted Madam Quillfern at a table in the back.

"Good evening Sheera!" she exclaimed. "I'm so pleased you accepted my invitation."

Sheera managed a cautious smile. "I guess I was too intrigued not to." She unzipped her jacket to reveal a black sweater that was the nicest thing she owned. She swept her long hair over one shoulder, and the dangly earrings that Maddie had forced her to wear now shimmered in the light.

"All dressed up," Madam Quillfern observed. She checked her own hair in a pocket mirror and put a few grey strands back into place. "This isn't all for me, is it?"

For the second time since encountering Madam Quillfern, Sheera wondered if she was being hit on. "That's not why..." She trailed off, already second-guessing her decision to make an appearance. "Your note...I don't understand. How could I save the world? And isn't the world...doing okay?"

"The world is in a dire state," she said matter-of-factly. "Current appearances notwithstanding...."

Sheera scrunched her eyebrows. "Huh?"

"The worst part is," Madam Quillfern added gravely, "that once the event happens, there will be no turning back for any of us."

Sheera's eyes widened in fear. "What event? A bomb threat? A terrorist attack?" She lowered her voice. "What do you know?"

"It could be one of those things or all of those things. But if it destroys us all it won't matter." She clapped her hands. "Alright then boys, she seems confused enough, it's probably time we doled out some proof."

Sheera glanced behind her and the two young men she'd first noticed now approached. They probably weren't much older than her but they looked like they'd seen a lot. The first had sandy brown hair and a surfer's tan, the sort of varsity guy a popular girl would date. The other one appeared to be of Indian descent, with thick curly hair that reminded her of the heroes in faded Bollywood magazines that her mother had kept in storage.

"These are my associates," said Madam Quillfern. "Luke, Arjun...meet Sheera."

Both young men seemed taken aback by something over her shoulder. Or on her head. Sheera glanced behind her but didn't see anything. She glanced back. "What?"

"Didn't I tell you?" said Madam Quillfern to Luke and Arjun, crossing her arms in some unknown triumph.

Arjun nodded. "It is definitely the brightest one I have ever seen."

"Maybe we'll defeat him after all," said Luke, taking the black velvet bag he'd been protectively holding and placing it onto the table.

"Who's him?" said Sheera. "And what is that?"

Madam Quillfern untied the satiny string that was keeping the strange bag closed. "There is a lot to understand but it all starts here." She slowly pulled out what appeared to be a beaten up tan leather folder. It had scroll-like papers stuffed inside of it, fastened together in a primitive way to form what resembled the world's first book. The front of the folder was etched with symbols that resembled Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs.

"Now tell me Sheera," Madam Quillfern said. "Do you believe in magic?"