The next morning bled into existence with a pale, overcast sky. Nyra woke to the same gnawing pulse beneath her skin — softer now, as though lurking in wait, but there all the same. The phantom heartbeat had followed her into her dreams and stalked her consciousness long after she'd opened her eyes.
Today, however, she was done running.
Her fingers hovered over the thin journal she had swiped from the study the night before — the one her mother had been so desperate to keep hidden. She'd spent hours staring at the old, leather-bound cover, debating whether or not she should even open it. But curiosity and desperation were stronger than fear.
"Enough," she whispered to herself, sliding her nail under the worn clasp.
The journal creaked open with a faint sigh, like a grave being disturbed. Most of the pages were filled with intricate handwritten notes, swirling symbols, and passages in languages she didn't recognize. But between the indecipherable scrawls were occasional words she could read — Noctari, Initiation, Blood Communion, Inheritance.
Her pulse quickened.
One page was dated seventeen years ago — the same year she was born.
> "The bloodline remains intact. The girl will never know — not until the Awakening. It is safer this way. Safer for her. Safer for us all."
Nyra's breath caught. The girl… It had to be her. But why? Why did she need to be kept in the dark? And who were us all?
The next few pages were even more disturbing. They described rituals — not in full detail, but enough to make her skin crawl. Moonlit gatherings. Blood oaths. Something called The Calling of Shadows. And scribbled in the margins of one page was a line that made her stomach twist:
> "If she begins to feel the Thrum before the seventeenth moon, the seal will weaken."
Her hands trembled as she traced the words with her fingertips. Thrum. That had to be the heartbeat she felt. It wasn't just her imagination — it had a name. A meaning.
And the seventeenth moon? That was only weeks away.
A sudden creak in the hallway jolted her from her thoughts. Heart racing, Nyra slammed the book shut and shoved it under her mattress just as the door opened.
"Nyra?" Her mother's soft voice drifted into the room. "Are you awake?"
Nyra swallowed the rising panic and forced a smile. "Yeah, just… getting ready for school."
Her mother lingered in the doorway longer than usual. Her gaze swept the room, sharp and searching, before settling on Nyra's face. "You look tired. Bad dreams again?"
"Something like that," Nyra murmured, turning away so her mother couldn't read the guilt in her eyes.
There was a pause — the kind that always felt heavier than words. Then her mother sighed. "I've been meaning to talk to you about… changes you might start noticing soon. It's part of growing up, you know. But remember, whatever happens, I'm here. Always."
It was the gentlest lie Nyra had ever heard.
She wanted to scream What are you hiding from me? But she bit her tongue. She wasn't ready — not yet. Not until she had more pieces of the puzzle.
-
The day dragged by in a fog of distraction. Teachers' voices blurred into background noise. Lunch was a tasteless blur. Even Aisha's gentle nudges and Tessa's dramatic retellings of her weekend trip barely registered.
But when the final bell rang, Aisha fell into step beside her, hijab fluttering slightly in the afternoon breeze. "Nyra," she said softly, "about the other night… the man we saw. You haven't told us anything."
Nyra's breath caught. "There's nothing to tell."
"You're lying." The words were calm, not accusing. "I know fear when I see it. And I know when someone is hiding something because they're scared of the truth."
Nyra stared at the ground. "I can't explain it. Not because I don't want to… but because I don't understand it myself."
Aisha's eyes softened. "Then let us help you understand."
It was tempting — so tempting — to lean on her friend's steady strength. But before she could respond, Tessa jogged up to them, her copper curls bouncing wildly. "Hey, are we still doing study night at your place?"
Nyra blinked. "Uh… yeah. Sure."
"Good!" Tessa grinned. "Because I seriously need your brain for history class."
-
Later that evening, while the three of them were sprawled out in Nyra's room, books open but barely touched, the conversation circled back to the inevitable.
"So…" Tessa said casually, flipping a page without reading it. "This mystery man. Creepy much?"
Nyra forced a laugh. "You could say that."
"But who was he?" Tessa pressed. "Because people don't just appear under oak trees at midnight and then vanish into thin air."
"I don't know," Nyra said truthfully. "But I think… I think he's like me."
Aisha tilted her head. "Like you how?"
Nyra hesitated, then lifted a trembling hand to her chest. "I feel something inside me. Something I can't control. And when he was near, it got stronger. Like it recognized him."
Silence blanketed the room.
Tessa shifted uncomfortably. "Nyra… are you saying this is supernatural?"
"I don't know what I'm saying." Her voice cracked. "But I know something's not right. And I think my mom knows more than she's telling me."
The air grew heavy. Aisha reached out and squeezed her hand gently. "Then maybe it's time you found out."
-
That night, long after Tessa and Aisha had gone home, Nyra returned to the journal. There were still dozens of pages she hadn't read. Symbols that might be clues. Passages that hinted at an ancient order — the Noctari — that existed long before humans recorded history.
One passage caught her attention:
> "The Noctari are not monsters. They are balance. Shadow and hunger woven into the thread of life itself. To deny it is to deny one's nature."
Another:
> "Our kind walks between worlds — mortal and night-born. We are the silent guardians of the Veil. But the blood must be pure. The blood must remember."
Her breath hitched. Our kind. Blood must be pure. It all sounded like something out of a dark fairy tale — except it wasn't. It was real. It was her.
And suddenly, she wasn't just scared anymore. She was angry.
Angry that her mother had lied. Angry that her life was a puzzle with missing pieces. Angry that the heartbeat inside her was louder than the one she'd been born with.
Nyra rose from her bed and walked to the mirror. Her reflection stared back — the same eyes, the same face. But beneath the surface, she could feel something ancient stirring.
"I'm done being afraid," she whispered.
Somewhere deep within, the phantom heartbeat pulsed once — slow, powerful, approving.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
It was just the beginning.