The house felt hollow, like something vital had been ripped out. Not just quiet—empty in a way that made breathing difficult. The kind of silence that wrapped around your chest and squeezed.
Mira held me close in the chair by the fireplace. Her arms were protective but tense, humming with barely contained energy. I nestled against her chest where her heartbeat thudded unevenly. This wasn't her usual rocking rhythm. Tonight her breathing hitched, like she was swallowing worry and failing.
Her fingers traced circles on my back—too careful, too purposeful. She needed the rhythm to stay steady. Every few seconds her hand paused, gripping tighter before relaxing. Her lips pressed into a thin line, jaw set like she was bracing for bad news.
Lucien leaned against the mantle, arms crossed, fingers drumming restlessly on his forearm. He stared into the unlit fireplace like he'd find answers in cold ashes. His stillness wasn't calm—it was forced, the kind that came right before someone snapped.
Charlotte stood in the doorway, half-shadowed. Her sword was sheathed but her hand hovered near it, fingers twitching. She leaned casually against the frame while her eyes darted constantly, sharp and calculating, cataloging every movement and breath. She hadn't said much since the east wing fight, but the weight of it hung heavy between us.
Mira broke the silence first. Her voice was soft but cutting. "That thing wasn't random." She didn't look at anyone, eyes locked on empty air. Her grip on me tightened slightly. "It wasn't just some shadow reacting to the shard. It knew exactly what it was doing."
Lucien's jaw worked, clenching and unclenching. Finally he spoke, voice clipped and low. "It's growing. Adapting. The shard's influence is getting stronger, and it's using him to do it."
Mira went stiff against me, arms curling tighter like she could shield me from his words.
Charlotte stepped forward, boots making soft deliberate sounds on wood. Her expression stayed calm but her eyes burned with intensity. "If it's using him, we're out of time. We can't keep dancing around this. We need to figure out what the shard wants and stop it before it takes him—or all of us."
Lucien's eyes snapped to her, sharp and dark. "You think I don't know that?" He gestured sharply at Mira and me, hand slicing through air. "You think I want to put him in danger? But the shard doesn't give us time to breathe. Every second we waste, it gets closer to its goal."
"And what is its goal, Lucien?" Mira's voice cut through his like steel meeting steel. Fire crept into her tone. "Right now we're just guessing. And every time we guess wrong, it's Caelum who pays."
The room went still. Lucien's jaw tightened, fists clenching, but he stayed silent. The tension hung heavy and suffocating.
Charlotte broke the standoff. "We need more information. There has to be something we're missing."
"What kind of something?" Mira asked, suspicion edging her voice.
"A pattern. The shard isn't just randomly lashing out. It's building toward something specific." Charlotte turned to Lucien. "You said the energy was tied to the bloodline. What if it's not just feeding—what if it's preparing?"
Lucien straightened, uncrossing his arms. "Preparing for what?"
"A transfer. Complete possession." Charlotte's words dropped like stones in still water. "What if the shard doesn't want to destroy him? What if it wants to become him?"
The blood drained from Mira's face. "No." Her voice was barely a whisper. "That's not happening."
Lucien ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. "If that's true, then containing it won't work. We'd have to sever the connection entirely."
"How?" Mira demanded.
"I don't know." Lucien's honesty was brutal. "But we better figure it out fast."
---
Night brought no peace. The house held its breath, every creak and whisper amplified in the oppressive quiet. Mira stayed with me, humming softly—a tune I didn't recognize but that felt familiar somehow. Her voice was warm but weighted, like she was trying to calm herself as much as me.
Her fingers moved through my hair, slow and deliberate. Sometimes her hand trembled against my head, betraying her unease.
Sleep came eventually, but it wasn't peaceful.
The dream hit different this time. Mira's warmth vanished, replaced by cold that seeped into my bones. The air pressed down from every angle, leaving a metallic taste on my tongue I couldn't shake.
Crimson light bathed everything—not warm like firelight, but oppressive, casting writhing shadows that seemed alive. The ground beneath me was smooth and cold, stretching into endless void.
I was standing somehow, feeling small and insignificant as the space grew larger, swallowing me whole.
Then the shadows shifted in the distance, coiling together into something solid. A figure emerged—humanoid but wrong. Its edges were jagged, constantly shifting like it couldn't decide what to be. Tall enough to loom even from far away, its presence suffocating.
No face, but I felt its gaze. Cold and unrelenting.
"Caelum." Its voice was low and resonant, vibrating through the air in ways sound shouldn't.
I tried to move, speak, run—but I was frozen in place.
"You are the anchor," it continued, stepping closer. Shadows pulsed with each word, alive and writhing. "The key to everything. And yet, you resist."
Its tone was almost amused, like talking to a child who didn't understand the game.
"Do you know what you are, little one? What you could become?"
It didn't wait for an answer. Leaning closer, its form towered over me.
"You are my host. The vessel through which I will bend this world to my will. And yet, you defy me. Fascinating. But it cannot last."
The shadows surged, coiling tighter as crimson light dimmed. The figure leaned in, jagged edges almost brushing me.
"Your resistance is admirable but futile. The trail sharpens, Caelum. Your blood remembers. Do you?"
Something deep inside stirred—a faint, instinctive push against its words. Not thought or feeling, just something raw and unyielding that refused to bend.
The figure straightened, form shifting. "I offer you a choice. Embrace the power willingly, and I will spare those you love the cost of resistance. Refuse, and the trail will consume them. Slowly. Painfully. One by one."
The words hung heavy and suffocating. For a moment they crushed me, but then that instinct pushed back harder.
"So be it." Its tone went cold and final. Shadows surged around me in suffocating embrace. "The trail sharpens, and your blood remembers. You cannot escape what you are."
Then it was gone.
---
I woke to Mira's arms around me again. Her warmth and steady breathing were the only things keeping the dream's weight at bay.
Text flickered across my vision, sharp and clear.
[New Ability Unlocked: Spectral Echo.]
[Spectral Echo: You can sense and interact with lingering energies tied to the Crimson Trail.]
The words echoed in my mind, their meaning distant but undeniable.
Mira stirred beside me, hand brushing my cheek. She didn't speak, but her presence was enough. For now, it was enough.