Night was supposed to be a quiet thing.
Aurel always believed darkness brought silence — the kind of silence where you could hide, think, or just breathe without the world crushing you. But tonight, silence didn't comfort him. It pressed on him like a weight, like something was watching him even when he looked around and saw nothing.
Ever since the abandoned library incident, nothing had felt real. The symbols, the burning mark on his wrist, the voice that didn't belong to the world — he told himself it was stress, imagination, maybe even a stupid prank his brain played on him. But deep down he knew the truth.
Normal life didn't burn itself into your skin.
Normal life didn't whisper inside your head.
Normal life didn't wake up ancient shadows.
And he was terrified… not because something impossible was happening, but because a part of him didn't feel surprised.
Like somewhere inside, a version of him already knew.
He stood on the terrace, forcing his gaze toward the stars — maybe to convince himself that if the universe above looked normal, everything else would be too. The wind brushed his hair, gentle and cold. City lights flickered below. A stray dog barked at someone on the street. Someone yelled in frustration at a traffic jam in the distance.
The world kept moving. But Aurel stayed still.
Then footsteps approached from behind.
He didn't even turn; he knew who it was. Only one person walked with that gentle-but-unafraid rhythm.
Lyra.
"Aurel," she said softly. Not accusing — more like she had been searching for him the whole evening and finally found him.
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. Lyra walked closer and stood beside him, looking out at the city below.
"You're avoiding me," she said.
Aurel let out a humorless laugh. "I'm avoiding everyone. Congratulations. You're included."
Lyra didn't laugh. "You think pushing people away will make whatever's happening disappear?"
"What exactly is happening?" He turned to her, frustration boiling inside him. "I don't know, Lyra. One day I'm normal, the next day there's fire coming out of my hand like I'm some kind of—"
He stopped midsentence because even saying it out loud felt ridiculous.
Lyra studied him — not mockingly, not skeptically — but with a seriousness that sent a chill through him.
"You're not crazy," she said. "And you're not imagining it."
He stared at her. "What do you know about it, Lyra?"
She hesitated. It was the first time he had ever seen her hesitate about anything. Usually she acted like the world couldn't scare her, like she was unbreakable. But right now… she seemed almost fragile.
"I know more than you think," she said. "More than I wanted to know."
Aurel's jaw clenched. "Then tell me."
Before she could speak, the terrace lights flickered.
Once. Twice. Then darkness swallowed everything.
The dog barking below suddenly fell silent. The traffic noise, the voices, the music from a neighbour's TV — everything stopped. Aurel's stomach knotted. The air turned icy cold, like winter had replaced summer in a heartbeat.
And then came the voice.
Not outside. Inside his mind.
"The Hunt begins."
Aurel staggered backward in shock, grabbing the railing to keep balance. His wrist burned again — worse than before — glowing through his skin like molten silver. Lyra grabbed his hand instantly, her fingers cold and trembling.
"Aurel, listen to me," she said, voice shaking. "Don't panic."
"How do you know what's happening?!" he demanded.
But she didn't answer. Her eyes shifted — not toward him, but toward the opposite side of the terrace where the darkness grew thicker, solidifying like smoke being pulled into shape.
Three silhouettes emerged.
Tall. Cloaked. Faceless. Not walking, but gliding, as if the ground itself obeyed them.
One spoke — voice like gravel mixed with poison.
"Divine blood… awakened."
The second one hissed. "Retrieve the Vessel. Kill the Protector."
Lyra stepped forward instantly, throwing her arm out to shield Aurel.
"He's not yours. Not anymore."
Aurel's mind spun. Protector? Vessel? Divine blood? The words made no sense — yet some part of him felt they weren't new at all.
The tallest shadow lifted its hand.
A tidal wave of dark energy streaked toward them.
Aurel didn't think. His body moved faster than thought, faster than fear. He raised his hand — and white-gold fire erupted from his palm, roaring like a sun trapped inside his veins.
The energy collided midair — the dark force and the burning light slamming into each other with a deafening shockwave. The terrace shook. Tiles cracked. Aurel was pushed back, but Lyra caught his arm before he collapsed.
Another blast of dark energy came, stronger.
Aurel flinched — but Lyra stood in front of him. Her body shimmered with light — not fire, not magic, something like a protective barrier. The blast hit her and shattered into sparks.
The shadows staggered backward.
They had not expected resistance.
The leader hissed. "The god remembers. The seal weakens."
The third one shrieked, voice sharp enough to pierce bone. "Withdraw! Before the Light binds us!"
The shadows dissolved, melting into the dark sky until nothing remained.
Silence returned — but not the peaceful kind.
The kind that follows something impossibly dangerous.
The terrace lights flickered back on. Traffic sounds resumed in the distance as if the world had forgotten the interruption. But nothing was the same.
Aurel stared at his own hand — still glowing faintly, heat pulsing through his veins.
"What… what am I?" His voice cracked — not from fear of the shadows, but fear of himself.
Lyra turned to him slowly. Her breathing was heavy, hands shaking — but her eyes were steady.
"Aurel," she said, voice softer than he had ever heard, "you're not becoming something. You're remembering what you already are."
He swallowed hard. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
Lyra stepped closer, as if bracing him for impact.
"You're not human."
Aurel felt everything and nothing at once — disbelief, rage, confusion, pain, something like relief, something like fear. He shook his head violently.
"No. No, I have a family. I grew up here. I went to school. I—"
"You were placed here," Lyra interrupted. "Hidden. Protected. You were never meant to wake up this early."
He could hardly breathe. "Protected… by who?"
Lyra hesitated again — and this time, she couldn't mask the fear.
"Aurel… by me."
His heart stopped.
Lyra looked away, guilt crossing her face for the first time. "I wasn't supposed to get close. I wasn't supposed to care. I was only meant to watch from a distance, keep you hidden, and buy time before they found you."
His mind spun so violently he thought he might collapse. "So everything— school?"
He swallowed a painful lump. "Us?"
Lyra closed her eyes. "It
wasn't supposed to be real. It became real anyway."
Aurel took a step back. Then another. The world he thought he knew was dissolving under his feet.
"I don't know who to trust anymore," he whispered.
Lyra's voice broke. "You can trust me. That's the problem. I didn't expect that either."
The city lights reflected in her eyes, making them shimmer like they were filled with storms she could no longer hide. She reached out slowly — not grabbing him, not forcing him — just offering her hand like someone trying to pull another person back from a cliff.
"Aurel, listen. You're not a monster. You're not cursed. You're the last living heir of a forgotten god — the one the old world called The Lightbearer. You weren't born to destroy things. You were born to stop them."
Aurel stared at her hand but didn't take it.
"If I'm some god… why do I feel terrified instead of powerful?"
"Because gods aren't born," Lyra whispered. "They awaken. And awakening hurts."
Tears pricked Aurel's vision — not because of weakness, but because everything he thought was real was crumbling.
Lyra stepped even closer, her voice cracking like she had held this inside for years.
"You deserve to know more. And I'll tell you everything. But if we stay here, they'll come back — stronger. And next time… one of us won't survive."
Aurel finally looked at her — really looked at her.
He could see the fear. The guilt. The desperation. And something else… something fragile, unspoken.
This wasn't just duty for her.
She cared. Deeply. Too deeply.
He didn't know what that meant yet — but he could feel it.
The wind rose again, tugging at his shirt, almost urging him to move, to choose, to step into the world he was born from instead of the world he was placed in.
Aurel finally whispered:
"What happens now?"
Lyra's expression hardened — protective, determined, ready to face the universe if it meant keeping him alive.
"Now," she said quietly, "we run — not forever, just until you're strong enough to stop running."
Aurel took one last glance at the city — the life he had known, the life he had to leave.
Then he stepped toward Lyra.
For the first time, their hands met willingly.
And the world shifted.
Not visually — but in the air, the atmosphere, the pulse of reality itself. Something ancient stirred, something that had been waiting lifetimes for this moment.
Lyra's voice came out barely above a breath.
"Aurel… you're not alone in this. Not anymore."
He didn't know where they were going.
He didn't know who — or what — he really was.
But as the night wrapped around them and they disappeared into the unknown, one thing became terrifyingly clear:
The forgotten god was waking.
And every force in the universe would either bend… or break.