Morning in Ravenshade House never started quietly. The old mansion breathed like a tired creature—floorboards settling, distant pipes clicking in the walls, curtains whispering whenever a draft passed through the narrow corridors. But today, the house held its breath. It was the kind of stillness that came only when something impossible was about to happen.
Inside the bedroom on the third floor, where the windows faced the forest ridge, a boy lay beneath heavy blankets, unmoving. Dust floated lazily in the gold morning light. The walls around him were covered with talismans, small spirit-wards Rowan had placed over the years—not as decoration, but as desperate prayers.
Kael's eyelashes twitched.
Another minute passed.
Then—slowly, heavily—his eyes opened.
A blur. A burn of white. A stabbing headache that felt like someone had dragged broken glass through his skull. He blinked hard, trying to force the world into focus, but everything wavered and bent like heat rising off metal.
His throat was dry, and even breathing hurt.
He lifted his head a little.
The movement felt wrong. Like his limbs weren't the ones he remembered. His body felt heavier, stretched, strange.
He blinked again.
The room was unfamiliar—bigger, rearranged, and filled with a faint scent of medicinal herbs. His heartbeat kicked faster.
Where…?
What…?
A soft shuffle reached his ears.
Someone was in the room.
He turned his head slightly—pain shooting down his neck—and saw a girl standing near the table. Fourteen? Maybe fifteen? Her hands trembled violently as she held a tray with two ceramic cups.
Her eyes kept flicking toward him, wide and afraid.
Then he heard her whisper under her breath, barely a thread of sound.
"He moved…"
Kael didn't understand. He opened his mouth, but only air came out.
The girl stepped closer—just one careful step—and her lips parted as if she wanted to speak. But fear and shock tangled in her throat.
Kael blinked slowly at her.
He didn't know this girl.
The girl's hands shook harder. The tray wobbled.
"Who…" Kael managed, voice scraping like rusted metal. "Who… are you?"
The question shattered whatever composure she had left.
The tray slipped from her hands. Cups clattered against each other before smashing onto the floor, pieces scattering in every direction.
The girl jumped back, startled by the sound.
Then she ran.
"D-Dad! Dad!" Her voice echoed down the hallway. "Dad! He—he woke up! Dad!"
Kael felt his stomach twist.
Dad?
She… lives here?
Why is she calling Rowan?
Who is she calling?
His vision blurred again. His headache pulsed like a warning drum.
His hands…
His hands felt wrong.
He forced himself to look down.
And his breath stopped.
These weren't the hands of a thirteen-year-old boy. The fingers were longer, the knuckles more defined, small scars running across the skin like forgotten stories. These were the hands of someone older… someone who had lived more years than he remembered.
"What… is this…"
Footsteps thundered from outside.
The door swung open with a force that rattled the frame, and a man stepped in—disheveled hair streaked with silver, eyes wide with terror and hope fighting inside them, clothes thrown on in a hurry.
Kael stared.
The man stared back.
Time froze.
Kael's lips trembled. His heart shook in his chest.
"…Dad?"
Rowan Ravenshade didn't answer at first. His throat clenched too tightly. Tears filled his eyes so fast he had to blink them away just to see clearly.
He walked forward slowly, as if afraid the moment might vanish if he moved too quickly.
"Kael," Rowan whispered, voice cracking from a place seven years deep. "Kael… son… look at me."
Kael swallowed, struggling to process the sight before him. Rowan looked older—years older. Tired. Hollowed out in places grief had carved through him.
"Dad… why—why do you look like that…?"
The question made Rowan exhale a trembling breath. He reached out a hesitant hand, as if touching Kael might break him.
Zara—the girl from before—stood behind Rowan, clutching the doorframe, tears still spilling in silent drops.
Kael looked at her again.
Something flickered in his memory. A face. A small girl who used to hide behind Rowan's leg whenever strangers visited. A girl who used to ask him childish questions about academy life.
He whispered the name with uncertainty.
"…Zara?"
She burst into soft sobs and nodded.
Kael's world tilted.
His headache worsened, pounding like a trapped spirit inside his skull.
Rowan knelt beside the bed and cupped Kael's face gently, terrified of harming him.
"Kael, listen to me," Rowan said softly, voice trembling. "You're safe. You're home. Nothing will hurt you now."
Kael's breath hitched.
"What happened?" he whispered. "Why am I… older? Why is Zara older? Why—why can't I remember anything?"
Zara wiped her tears with her sleeves, whispering shakily, "You were sleeping… for so long… we— we thought you'd never open your eyes again…"
Kael's heartbeat stumbled.
Rowan swallowed hard. "Kael… you've been in a coma."
Kael froze.
Rowan continued, each word heavy and breaking. "For seven years."
The candles in the room flickered as if reacting to the shock that rippled through him.
Seven years. Seven years gone. Seven years ripped from his life without permission.
Kael's lips parted, but no sound came out.
A ringing noise filled his ears.
His chest tightened.
Seven years…
The last thing he remembered was—
He remembered screams.
Chains.
Cold.
Salt burning his wounds.
Nails in his hands.
The world tilted.
His breath hitched violently. His fingers curled into the blankets, knuckles whitening. His heartbeat raced in uneven, panicked stutters.
Rowan gripped his shoulders gently. "Kael. Kael, stay with me. You're safe now."
But the memories clawed at him anyway.
Ice pressed against his face.
Electric shocks ripping through his body.
Voices demanding answers he didn't have.
Someone laughing.
Someone screaming.
His own voice breaking.
Darkness swallowing him whole.
He flinched back, trembling, breath turning shallow and fast. His vision blurred into streaks of color and shadow.
Rowan pulled him into a protective embrace, his own tears soaking into Kael's hair.
"Kael, breathe… you're here, you're alive, you're not there anymore…"
Kael's voice cracked. "Dad… I—I didn't tell them anything… I swear… I didn't…"
Rowan held him tighter, feeling the fragility in his son's shaking body. "I know. I know you didn't. You never had to prove anything to me."
Zara hugged Rowan from behind, crying into his shoulder.
Kael felt the warmth of them. The reality of being held. But his body couldn't decide whether to trust it or fear it.
"Seven years…" he whispered, voice thin and trembling. "Why… why does it feel like it just happened yesterday…?"
Rowan stroked his hair with shaking hands. "Because trauma freezes time, son… it keeps you where you broke."
Kael's eyes filled with tears he hadn't realized he could still produce.
The morning light warmed the room, but inside Kael's chest, the world was still frozen, cracked, confused.
He had woken up.
But the boy who opened his eyes wasn't the same one who closed them seven years ago.
And this was only the beginning.