"Your bloodline… it's awakening."
Elian's vision blurred, the girl's voice echoing in his head like it was coming from everywhere at once.
Then everything went black.
---
He woke up with a sharp breath.
Morning light spilled through his window, soft and ordinary—too ordinary.
Elian lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
Something wasn't right.
His head throbbed, a dull, heavy ache that pulsed behind his eyes. He brought a hand to his forehead and winced.
"What… happened?" he muttered.
Fragments of the night flickered in his mind—running through the woods, shadows, a blow to the head…
And her.
The girl.
Her voice.
Your bloodline… it's awakening.
Elian sat up quickly.
Pain shot through his head again, forcing him to slow down. He looked around his room, trying to ground himself.
Everything was normal.
His bed.
His clothes.
The quiet hum of morning outside.
Too normal.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, slightly unsteady. His body felt like it had been through something, even if his mind couldn't fully grasp it.
"Just a dream…" he said under his breath.
But it didn't feel like one.
---
He got dressed slowly, his movements distracted.
His eyes drifted to the leather-bound book on his nightstand.
It sat there, unmoving.
Silent.
But now it felt different.
He stared at it longer than usual.
Something about it pulled at him—like it was connected to what happened last night.
To her.
Elian reached out slightly…
Then stopped.
"No," he muttered. "I'm just overthinking."
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling.
---
Downstairs, the smell of coffee filled the house.
Uncle Marcus was already in his study.
Elian stepped in quietly.
Marcus looked up immediately.
"Hey, kiddo. You okay?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. "You came home late last night. I didn't even hear you come in."
Elian leaned against the doorframe, rubbing his temples again.
"I… don't know," he admitted. "I think I had a weird night."
Marcus frowned slightly.
"Weird how?"
Elian hesitated.
How was he supposed to explain any of it?
Running.
Shadows.
A girl who knew his name.
"It's nothing," he said finally. "Just… felt real, that's all."
Marcus watched him closely.
Too closely.
"You should take it easy today," Marcus said after a moment. "You've got that scholarship confirmation, but it can wait."
Elian nodded.
But something about Marcus felt… off.
Like he was hiding something.
---
As Elian turned to leave, his mind circled back to one thing.
The girl knew his name.
And she talked about his bloodline.
Slowly, he turned back.
"Uncle…"
Marcus looked up again.
"Yeah?"
Elian hesitated, then pushed through.
"Do you know anything about… my parents?"
For a split second—
Marcus froze.
It was subtle.
But Elian saw it.
---
"What do you mean, kiddo?" Marcus asked, his tone carefully neutral.
Elian stepped closer.
"Just… who were they? You always say they died when I was born. But… that's it. That's all I know."
Marcus sighed, leaning back in his chair.
He rubbed his temples like the question itself was a burden.
"Elian," he said slowly, "we'll talk about it later. Okay? Not now."
Elian frowned.
"Why not now?"
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stood up, walked over to a stack of papers, and picked one up.
"You need to focus on your future," he said, holding up the paper. "This scholarship—this is important."
Elian's expression hardened slightly.
"That's not what I asked."
Marcus looked at him.
And for a moment, something serious—almost worried—flashed in his eyes.
Then it was gone.
"We'll talk later," he repeated.
---
Elian knew what that meant.
He wasn't going to get answers.
Not from Marcus.
Not today.
---
His phone buzzed.
The sound cut through the tension.
Elian pulled it out.
A message from Mike.
"Dude, we need to talk right now. Please come meet me at the old oak field."
Elian's stomach tightened.
Something was definitely wrong.
---
He looked at Marcus.
"Uncle, I gotta go meet Mike. He says it's urgent."
Marcus nodded, though he didn't look convinced.
"Be careful," he said. "And don't forget your scholarship meeting later."
"I won't," Elian replied.
But his mind was already somewhere else.
---
The walk to the old oak field felt different today.
Quieter.
Heavier.
The same place that was full of music and laughter last night now felt empty.
Almost… watching him.
---
"What's wrong, bro?"
Elian spotted Mike standing near the tree.
As he got closer, he noticed something immediately.
Mike didn't look like himself.
He looked shaken.
"What's going on, dude?" Elian asked again.
Mike ran a hand through his hair.
"I had a dream," he said. "A weird one. But it didn't feel like a dream."
Elian's chest tightened.
"What do you mean?"
Mike looked around like he didn't want to be overheard.
"Those new people in town," he said quietly. "There's something wrong with them."
Elian frowned.
"What new people?"
"I don't know," Mike said quickly. "I just—listen. In the dream, I was back in high school. But everything was off. Like… wrong."
He paused.
Then added:
"And there was this girl."
Elian went still.
---
"What girl?" he asked carefully.
Mike swallowed.
"She was… beautiful. But not normal. Something about her wasn't right."
Elian's skin prickled.
"What did she say?"
Mike looked directly at him.
"She was talking about you."
---
Silence stretched between them.
Elian's heartbeat quickened.
"What did she say about me?"
Mike hesitated.
"She mentioned a book," he said. "An old leather-bound book."
Elian's breath caught.
"Do you know anything about that?" Mike asked.
Elian forced himself to stay calm.
Something about Mike felt… unstable.
Like he was close to breaking.
So Elian lied.
"No," he said. "I don't know anything about that."
Mike studied him for a moment.
Then nodded slowly.
"Okay…"
But he didn't look convinced.
---
"Let's just go get something to eat," Mike said suddenly. "Clear our heads."
Elian nodded. "Yeah."
---
They turned to leave.
Then Elian stopped.
---
She was there.
At the edge of the field.
Watching.
---
Elian's chest tightened instantly.
"Come on," he said quickly, grabbing Mike's arm.
But Mike didn't move.
"D… dude…"
Elian turned.
The girl was walking toward them.
Slow.
Calm.
Her eyes locked onto him.
"You," she said softly. "I need to talk to you."
---
Elian didn't think.
He grabbed Mike—
And they ran.
---
They didn't stop until they were far away.
Mike bent over, breathing hard.
"Dude… who was that?"
Elian shook his head.
"I don't know. But something's wrong. That dream you had—it's connected."
Mike straightened, still breathing heavily.
"Man, you're overthinking it," he said. "Maybe we're just messed up from last night. Drinks, stress… I don't know."
Elian didn't argue.
But he didn't believe that.
---
He told Mike to go home.
Then he went back to his house.
---
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
The leather-bound book sat on the nightstand.
Silent.
Waiting.
---
He must have fallen asleep.
Because the next thing he knew—
His phone buzzed.
---
He woke up instantly.
Grabbed it.
A message.
"Midnight. Old windmill. Come alone."
---
Elian stared at the screen.
His pulse quickened.
He checked the time.
3 PM.
Hours to go.
---
He stood up and started pacing.
Was this her?
It had to be.
---
He looked at the book again.
Everything kept leading back to it.
To his parents.
To whatever he was.
---
He typed:
"Who is this?"
The reply came immediately.
"You'll find out. Midnight. Windmill."
---
Elian exhaled slowly.
His instincts told him this was dangerous.
But he needed answers.
---
He picked up the book and slipped it into his jacket.
He thought about telling Marcus.
Just in case.
---
But he didn't.
This was his.
---
Night came slowly.
Too slowly.
---
When it finally did, Elian slipped out of the house.
Quiet.
Careful.
---
The old windmill stood in the distance.
Dark against the night sky.
Still.
Like it had been waiting for him.
---
Elian approached slowly, every step cautious.
The air felt colder here.
Heavier.
---
Then he saw her.
Standing at the entrance.
Waiting.
---
"You came," she whispered.
---
Elian stopped a few feet away.
"What do you want?"
---
She smiled.
Soft.
Unnatural.
"I've been waiting," she said. "You have something that belongs to me, Elian."
---
"Who are you?" he asked.
---
"You don't need to know," she replied. "But I know who your parents are."
---
Elian's chest tightened.
---
"You're the heir."
---
"What does that mean?" he demanded. "What heir?"
---
She stepped closer.
"The heir to a power you don't understand. One you can't control."
---
She extended her hand.
"And I can help you… if you give me the book."
---
Elian's grip tightened around it.
"I'm not giving you anything."
---
Her smile faded.
Then returned.
Colder.
---
"Stubborn," she said. "You'll regret that."
---
She raised her hand.
The shadows around them began to move.
Twisting.
Alive.
---
Elian stepped back.
"Stay back! What's going on?!"
---
Her eyes locked onto the book.
"That's mine," she said quietly. "Give it to me."
---
"I'm not giving you this book!"
---
Her expression darkened.
"You're the last of your bloodline," she said. "You don't understand what's coming."
---
"Then explain!" Elian snapped.
---
She stepped closer, urgency breaking through.
"The ones hunting you," she said. "Your family's legacy isn't what you think it is."
---
She extended her hand again.
"Come with me, and I'll explain everything."
---
A pause.
---
Then—
"If you refuse…"
Her voice dropped.
Her eyes darkened.
---
"You won't survive the night."
---