—Alexia—
There was nothing but darkness. Not the heavy, familiar kind of sleep, not the haze where dreams swirl, but a hollow quiet—like the world had folded in on itself, and I'd slipped through the cracks between moments. I floated—or maybe sank. It was impossible to tell. The weight of my body was gone, replaced by something deeper, something slow and steady pulling at me.
"Alexia… gods, please—wake up—"
A voice drifted through the void. Familiar. Ragged. Finn. But distant, muffled, like a whisper behind a waterfall. I reached for it—tried—but my hands weren't there. Nothing was, only the echo, and a hollow ache beneath it.
"You're going to be okay. I promise. Just come back…"
The pull shifted, a ripple through the silence. Then—a step. Boots on stone. The world around me stretched and shuddered, reshaping into something almost like a place. Fog unfurled across broken tiles. Moonlight hung low and too bright. Ivy curled around collapsed pillars and frozen statues.
A ruined garden. Not mine, but familiar—like a faded painting half remembered, then forgotten. A man stood at the center. He belonged there among the wreckage and moonlight. His coat was long and dark, lined with something finer than it should have been. He moved like someone who was never in a hurry. He smiled when he saw me. Calm. Soft. Too soft.
"There you are."
I tried to speak. My voice snagged like thread on thorns. "Where…?"
"Between," he said. "Not awake, not asleep. It's easier to talk like this—when your mind's quiet."
I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you?"
"Just someone who's wanted to meet you for a very long time." He stepped forward slowly, hands behind his back. Then he did something strange—tilted his head and tapped the center of his chest once, lightly. A gesture I didn't recognize… yet it sparked something faint deep in my mind. A warmth. A whisper of safety. Of being held.
"You were magnificent," he said. "That outburst—it wasn't a failure. It was proof. Your power is waking up, even if they're too blind to see what it means."
The air stirred, and with it, a scent I couldn't place—charred wood and sage. Familiar, impossibly distant, like a ghost of something from childhood. A memory flickered: Rain on the old porch, my mother's hair damp against her cheek as she tucked me under her jacket. The same scent—charred wood from the fireplace, sage from the bundle she hung by the window for blessings. The smell of home, of safety, of her voice calling me her wild seed. The only place I ever felt untouchable. My chest ached.
"That wasn't supposed to happen," I whispered.
"No," he agreed. "Not yet. But you were pushed. And chaos doesn't wait for permission. It answers the need. It listens to the parts of you no one else hears."
"Please, Lex… gods, just open your eyes—" Finn again. Desperate. Closer.
I turned toward it, heart clawing its way up—but the dream held me fast.
"You hear them," the man said, "but you don't belong to them."
"You don't know me."
"But I do. I knew you the first time you cried." He smiled. "You were so small… and already full of fury."
My stomach twisted. That wasn't the kind of thing a stranger said.
"How would you—?"
"You used to curl your fingers into your mother's collar and fall asleep like the world couldn't touch you," he added, voice soft, almost reverent. "She called you her wild seed."
I froze. Wild seed. The words pressed against my chest, tender and raw. My mother used to say that late at night, when she thought I was asleep. My wild seed. My girl is full of storms.
"Who are you?" I asked again, the words thick in my throat.
He didn't answer. Just looked at me, something bittersweet in his eyes.
"They'll try to shape you. Tame you. But you were made for more. Let them try to hold you down. You'll only rise higher."
Then, lower—almost a whisper: "You'll know the truth soon. About them. About me."
The world began to crack, moonlight splitting like fractured glass.
"She moved—Finn, I swear—"
"Come on, Alexia—please—"
"Remember me," he said.
"Why should I?"
He smiled again. Quiet, sad, dangerous, all at once. "Because I never stopped watching. And I've always—" He paused, tapping his chest gently. "Always knew where to find you."
The scent of smoke deepened, wrapping around me, warm and frightening. And I began to fall. The world slipped and snapped back. A sharp inhale tore through me—wet, ragged, like breaking the surface of deep water. My eyes fluttered open. Dim light filtered in, muted and pale. The rough smell of old stone and dust mixed with something softer—linen, faintly herbal. A hand squeezed mine.
"Alexia," Finn's voice broke like a prayer. Gentle. Trembling. "You're awake."
I tried to speak, but my throat was thick, my breath shallow. The room spun slowly. Jasper sat cross-legged beside the bed, dark eyes quiet with worry. At the edge of the bed, Soren stood tall and still, expression unreadable but alert. Asher lingered a few steps back, fists loose, jaw tight, eyes sharp and watchful. Zeus lay stretched across my legs, heavy head warm against me. A pulse throbbed beneath my skin—not pain, but something deeper—the storm inside still waiting to settle. I blinked again, met Finn's gaze.
"I didn't fall asleep," I whispered. "I… passed out after the attack on Zeus."
Jasper's calm voice broke the silence. "You were protecting him. That's why your magic exploded."
Soren added quietly, "Asher caught you before you hit the ground. Brought you here—away from prying eyes."
My eyes flicked to Asher. His gaze snapped to mine, then dropped.
I swallowed. "Thank you for catching me."
He cleared his throat, stepping closer. "Someone had to. You were… burning out of control."
His clipped words caught, just for a second.
I looked around at all of them, gently squeezing Finn's hand. "I'm sorry I lost control. I didn't mean to—"
"We know," Finn interrupted, fierce and soft at once. "Your magic was protecting him. It's part of you. Scary, yeah. But you're not alone."
"What happened after I passed out?" I asked.
"You don't need to worry about that now. How do you feel?" Jasper asked.
"Confused. Tired. Scared."
"You're not alone," Soren said, firm and quiet. "None of us are."
"A connection?" I asked, yawning.
"You rest now. We'll talk when you wake," Finn said, brushing his fingers through my hair. Warmth grounded me. My eyelids grew heavy.
Zeus nudged my legs, his warmth comforting. Finn tightened his grip gently. I sank back, surrendering to the quiet peace of their presence. Somewhere deep inside, the echo of a man's voice lingered—a promise, a warning. I didn't know what it meant yet. But I was no longer alone.