After saying goodbye to Carissa, I lingered for a few minutes, letting the slight buzz of tension in my chest settle, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. I stayed standing just outside the diner, pretending to check my phone so I wouldn't look as shaken as I felt, but my fingers were trembling. The night air was cooler than before, brushing against my arms and making me shiver, though I wasn't sure if it was from the cold or the conversation I'd just had.
I hadn't expected her to know anything about the artifact's origin, let alone hint at curses and shapeshifters. I'd gone in hoping for a simple explanation — maybe a misprint on the museum label, maybe some obscure Mesopotamian symbol I hadn't read about yet. Instead, I walked out with information that felt unreal, impossible, and terrifyingly personal. And the moment I stepped outside, I realized I wasn't safe.
The street was nearly empty, the occasional car drifting past, their headlights cutting brief lines through the darkness. The lights from the diner flickered behind me, the neon sign buzzing in a soft, tired hum. A couple of pedestrians passed by in the distance, but they seemed too absorbed in their own worlds to notice me—or maybe it was the uneven streetlights casting shadows too deep for them to see much at all. My breath fogged faintly in the air. I hugged my bag tighter to my body and quickened my pace, thinking maybe I should just call a taxi and be done with it.
But something made me stop.
It wasn't a sound. It wasn't a shadow. It was… instinct. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, prickling like static crawling under my skin. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination—or some instinct I didn't know I had—but I felt eyes on me. Not casual glances. Not curiosity. Intent. Focus. I spun around slowly, scanning the street. Nothing. Just the quiet hum of the city, the soft rumble of a bus far away, the muted hiss of wind moving through an alley.
I took a few steps forward, telling myself it was paranoia, leftover adrenaline from talking about curses like it was normal. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe I hadn't eaten enough today. Maybe glowing birthmarks did something weird to brain chemistry.
But then I saw them.
Two tall men stepped from the shadows at the far end of the street, moving toward me. They walked with a casualness that felt too deliberate, too synchronized. The scummy grin on the face of the first one made my stomach churn. His teeth were yellowed, and the alleyway light caught the glint of metal—maybe a piercing, maybe something else. They were big, all boulder-like muscles and imposing height, the kind of men you see in nightmares rather than in real life.
"What's up, baby girl?" the first one said, his voice low, teasing, and dripping with menace.
My stomach twisted so violently I felt nauseous. His tone wasn't flirtation. It was warning.
I froze for a fraction of a second, weighing my options. Running wouldn't work — they were already blocking one end of the street, and I didn't know what was behind me. Screaming? Nobody was nearby, and even if someone was, people loved pretending not to see danger. I decided the best move was to walk past them like I didn't hear or see them.
I tried. I really did.
Big mistake.
"No worries, princess. We could help you find your way through," the first one said, stepping closer. He reached out a hand toward me, fingers twitching like he couldn't wait to grab me.
Something in my body snapped. Maybe it was fear. Maybe instinct. Maybe the same strange thing that had been growing inside me for days. I swallowed hard and sidestepped quickly, my reflexes sharper than I expected. I swung my elbow with instinctive force, connecting squarely with his jaw.
The impact shocked me — the sound of cracking bone, or maybe cartilage, echoed louder than it should've in the quiet street. He staggered backward, a trickle of blood running down his face.
"You b#tch," he snarled, glaring at me with fury blazing in his eyes.
I barely had time to steady myself before the second man lunged. He came at me fast, his movement predatory, like he'd done this before. His hand stretched toward my neck like he wanted to drag me somewhere.
I dodged to the side, taking his momentum and using it to strike the back of his right calf with a precision I didn't know I possessed. He yelped in pain, collapsing slightly, almost whining like a wounded animal.
The first guy regained his balance and lunged again. I should've been terrified, but something else took over — a cold clarity, a pulse of strength in my limbs that felt foreign and familiar all at once. I flipped to the side, using the pavement to my advantage, and sent him sprawling onto his back.
The second man scrambled to get up, but I pivoted sharply, hitting him with a back kick that sent him sprawling again. He hissed and clutched his ribs.
I was panting, my muscles on fire. My entire life had been ordinary, mundane, never violent. I'd never even participated in school sports because running made me feel like I'd swallowed sand. Yet here I was, moving with a fluidity and strength I didn't understand.
My pulse was deafening in my ears, adrenaline coursing through every fiber of me. The two men groaned and panted, both lying on the ground, trying to gather themselves after what must have seemed like a brutal beatdown from nowhere.
I needed to get out of there. Now.
My breaths came in shallow gasps, my heart hammering like a drum in my chest, practically shaking my ribs. I didn't even consider looking back—just started running down the street, my mind focused entirely on survival.
And then—
I felt it.
A sharp hit at the back of my head, something solid connecting with bone. Hard. Really hard. Pain shot through me like fire, exploding behind my eyes. My knees buckled, vision swimming into a blur of colors and shadows.
I staggered, tried to keep my footing, but it was no use.
I went down, hard. Dirt and gravel scraped against my palms, burning my skin, and I felt my consciousness starting to slip like sand through fingers. I tried to fight it, tried to push myself upright, but the world narrowed to a tunnel of blinding pain and roaring silence.
I caught a glimpse of the first guy smirking above me, his face twisted with satisfaction. The blood on his lip glistened under the streetlight. "Shouldn't let your guard down, baby girl," he hissed, voice thick with triumph.
And then everything went black.
Even in semi-unconsciousness, I could feel my body trembling, every nerve ending alive with residual fear and adrenaline. It felt like my consciousness hovered somewhere between darkness and floating pain. I didn't know what was waiting for me when I woke, but a part of me knew: this was far from over.
Something about this attack was personal, calculated, and terrifying. My pulse was still racing in the dark recesses of my mind, even as my body lay limp.
And yet, beneath the fear, a spark of something else lingered — an awareness of a strength i had never had before, of reflexes and power buried deep inside me. Something inside me was changing. Something dangerous. Something unreal.
I didn't know how or why, but one thing was certain: whatever this was, whatever had been awakened in me, it wasn't going away.
And when I woke next, I would have to face it.