(AFK WORM) CHAPTER FOUR

It took time, more than Shemira would ever admit aloud, but eventually the tightness in her chest whenever Crystal Pelham entered the room began to fade. The girl was perceptive, yes, but kind as well. And while Shemira never stopped being cautious, she allowed herself to breathe again and settle fully into the borrowed life she now lived.

Weeks slipped by in a rhythm so ordinary it almost felt unreal. Mornings began with quiet breakfasts, the whistle of the kettle filling the small kitchen while Taylor and Danny sat at the table, one bent over a textbook, the other lost behind a newspaper. Days passed in classrooms filled with ink, chatter, and the soft scrape of pens across paper. Evenings, on the other hand, were filled with the gentle haze of domestic life, the sound of dinner dishes, the muted TV, and the city beyond their windows.

For the first time since awakening in this world, Shemira felt, if not at peace, then at least content.

Her students had accepted her return with surprising ease. The small differences in her behavior—her colder tone and the slight delay before she answered questions pertaining to her lectures—were attributed to trauma. People expected survivors to change, after all.

Danny and Taylor seemed to have accepted that as well, or at least they pretended to.

Danny, bless him, was a man who found comfort in stability. He smiled more now that she had returned to work, even if those smiles did not always reach his eyes, and he never asked the questions that lingered on his tongue. In a way, for the sake of his family’s well-being, he was willing to ignore a lot of red flags. 

Taylor, however… Taylor didn't seem willing. She was always watching.

The girl’s gaze lingered when Shemira wasn’t looking, sharp in that quiet, analytical way that reminded her of Damian from just before his death, far too intelligent for her own good.

Shemira had caught her daughter studying her reflection once, comparing the curve of her mother’s face to the one in a framed photograph on the mantle. When Taylor realized she had been seen, she turned away quickly, muttering something about homework.

It hurt more than Shemira expected it to.

Taylor didn’t trust easily, it seemed. And though Shemira bore Annette’s smile, her laugh, and her voice, there was something wrong enough within her that even a child could sense it. Perhaps that was part of why she decided to begin training her family, not just Taylor but Danny as well. It wasn’t only for their safety, though that was reason enough, but also to bridge the distance between them.

She couldn’t teach Taylor magic yet. Truthfully, she didn’t even understand how her own worked. If Niru had been here, he would have helped, but that world and its wisdom were far away. What she could do, however, was start with something equally as important: getting them in shape.

Magic or not, a sound body was as much foundation of survival as a sound mind in any world.

So, one quiet Sunday morning, she gathered them both in the living room. Danny was nursing a cup of coffee while Taylor was curled up on the couch with a novel, covered slightly by her blanket. Both looked up when Shemira spoke.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, her tone carefully even. “We’ve all had a difficult few weeks. It might do us good to get out of the house more and start exercising together.”

Danny blinked, surprised. “You mean, like… family jogs?”

Shemira nodded. “Exactly. Nothing too strenuous at first. Just something to build strength for all of us.”

Taylor raised her brows in mild disbelief. “You hate running.”

“I used to,” Shemira said, allowing herself a small smile. “But I think it’s time we changed that.”

They exchanged uncertain looks, but neither objected. And so, the next morning, the Heberts began to run.

The first few days were awkward. Danny wasn’t exactly out of shape, but he had pains in his knees and breathed harder than he liked. Taylor complained about the cold, and Shemira herself had to wrestle with the strange disconnect between the body she inhabited and the one she remembered. Annette’s body wasn’t used to such strenuous movements, and while Shemira had never been known for athleticism either—the life of a healer’s wife left little room for physical labor—she had at least possessed a fit body. Here, every motion felt clumsy and unfamiliar, and it took some getting used to.

Still, she kept at it.

The morning jogs became their ritual. They woke before dawn, stretching on the front porch beneath the pale blue sky before setting off down the sidewalks of their neighborhood. The streets were quiet then, the city still half-asleep, with only the pounding of their shoes against the ground and the faint cries and singing of birds.

Slowly, the distance between them began to close.

Taylor spoke more. At first it was small things—complaints about homework, teachers, and cliques at school—but Shemira listened, patient and encouraging. Danny occasionally made dry remarks about his age or joked about needing a chiropractor, and Shemira laughed, not the hollow sound she had once forced after her son’s death, but something increasingly genuine and warm.

It wasn’t perfect. There were still moments when Taylor’s eyes darted to her mother’s face as if trying to solve a puzzle she didn’t understand, or when Danny opened his mouth to talk before closing it and walking away. But those moments grew fewer with time.

By the end of the month, Shemira began to notice real changes. Danny’s knees no longer shook as much after the first block. Taylor had stopped complaining, and in fact, she now smiled during their jogs, cheeks flushed with color and eyes wide. Shemira herself moved with more confidence, her body no longer feeling quite so foreign.

Perhaps this was what rebuilding felt like. Perhaps this was what healing looked like.

But deep down, she knew that this peace, this fragile illusion of normalcy, could not last. At least, not in a city like Brockton Bay.

Sooner or later, danger would find them again. And when it did, she intended to make sure her family was ready.