Chapter 3:Genetic whispers

The weight of the photograph sat heavy in Lysandra’s hands, the mysterious symbol pulsating on the glossy surface. She could still feel Kaelen’s icy gaze upon her, the way his dark eyes seemed to pierce straight through her. There had been something in his expression—a look of recognition, of something deeper that he wasn’t saying. But Lysandra was no stranger to secrets. She’d been hiding her own for years.

As she entered her small apartment later that evening, she threw her camera bag onto the kitchen counter, too tired to process anything further. The exhaustion didn’t come from the crime scene she’d photographed or the hours spent sifting through evidence, no—it was something deeper.

Lysandra stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her hands trembling slightly as she ran them over her face. The sensation was new—an odd heaviness had settled over her body. She’d been feeling it for days now, a wave of exhaustion that no amount of sleep seemed to cure. Her muscles ached, and there was a dull throb at the back of her skull that wouldn’t go away.

At first, she chalked it up to stress. After all, dealing with grisly crime scenes and unexplainable deaths would take a toll on anyone. But it wasn’t just that. It was something deeper—something primal, gnawing at the edge of her awareness.

Her fingers hovered over the edge of her shirt collar, the fabric feeling unusually tight. She could hear her breath hitch, a quiet whimper rising in her throat as she slowly unbuttoned the top of her blouse. There was no logical reason for the discomfort, but as she peeled the fabric away from her skin, she felt it—the strange sensation that was neither pain nor relief but somewhere in between.

Her gaze dropped to her neck.

At first, she didn’t recognize what she was seeing. The pale skin around her collarbone was marked by something that hadn’t been there before. A small, almost imperceptible birthmark—a crescent-shaped pattern—sat nestled just above her skin, hidden under the folds of her shirt. She rubbed it with her thumb, trying to make sense of it, but the sensation only intensified. Her skin seemed to burn where the mark touched, sending a cold shiver of unease down her spine.

Lysandra quickly covered the mark, her heart racing in her chest. It was impossible. She had no memory of ever seeing it before, and yet, it felt oddly familiar—like a piece of her had been lost and was only now returning to her.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thoughts swirling in her mind. She wasn’t ready for this. Not today. She had too much to deal with already.

Get it together, Lysandra, she scolded herself, splashing cold water on her face.

But the mark remained. As though the burn on her skin was a reminder—a symbol she couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard she tried.

Hours later, Lysandra sat in the sterile white office of Dr. Rhodes, her hands gripping the arms of the chair as the doctor reviewed the results of her medical tests.

“What exactly am I looking at here?” Lysandra asked, her voice small but laced with a growing sense of unease.

Dr. Rhodes, an older man with a kind but weary face, leaned over his desk, his brow furrowed as he examined the scans before him. His fingers hovered over the screen, tracing the contours of the genetic data displayed in front of him.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he murmured. “You’ve got anomalies in your genetic markers—more than a few. It’s not just random mutation; these patterns are deliberate, almost... designed.”

Lysandra felt her pulse quicken. “What do you mean, ‘designed’?”

“Look here,” he said, tapping the screen with a pen. “There’s a symbol embedded in your genetic code—this is far beyond anything I’d expect from a genetic disorder. It’s not natural, Lysandra. It’s something ancient. Something purposeful.”

Her stomach twisted at the word “ancient.” That mark on her neck suddenly felt more sinister, its mysterious presence now mirroring the cryptic information Dr. Rhodes was showing her. She leaned in closer to get a better look at the genetic map. There, etched deep in the scan, was a jagged pattern she couldn’t understand—a symbol that echoed the curve of the birthmark on her skin.

“Do you recognize this symbol?” Dr. Rhodes asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern. “Have you seen it before?”

Lysandra’s mind went blank. The symbol was unfamiliar, yet it resonated deep within her, like the faintest whisper of something long forgotten. Her breath caught in her throat.

“I... I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it feels like I should.”

Dr. Rhodes nodded slowly, his eyes filled with empathy. “This could be part of a larger issue—something that goes beyond simple genetics. These anomalies may have been in your family for generations, hidden under the surface. If I had to guess, I’d say this symbol is key to understanding what’s happening to you.”

A shiver ran down her spine as his words settled in her mind. What was happening to her? And more importantly, why now? What had triggered these strange, inexplicable changes?

Before she could respond, the door to the office opened with a soft creak. A nurse stepped inside, holding a small, nondescript envelope.

“This just came for you,” the nurse said, handing it to Lysandra. “It’s addressed to you personally.”

Lysandra furrowed her brow, her fingers brushing the paper. The envelope was unmarked, save for her name scrawled in black ink across the front. There was something... off about it. Her instincts told her this wasn’t just any random letter.

“Thank you,” Lysandra said, her voice tight as she tore the envelope open.

Inside was a stack of medical records—her medical records from childhood, filled with test results and old notes. She stared at them, her pulse quickening, but her eyes landed on the final page.

A portion of the document was partially burned, the edges charred and frayed as though it had been through a fire. But what made her blood run cold was the faint, almost invisible mark at the top of the page—the same symbol that had appeared in her genetic scan.

Her hands trembled as she held the document to the light, trying to make sense of it.

“No...” she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.

“What’s wrong?” Dr. Rhodes asked, his voice filled with concern.

Lysandra’s eyes were wide, fixed on the partially burned page in her hands. The symbol—there it was, unmistakable and undeniable. Her mind raced, spinning out of control as the surroundings appeared to close in. around her.

“The mark...” she whispered, her voice quivering. “It’s real. It’s always been there.”

Dr. Rhodes rose from his seat, his face pale. He reached for the document, but Lysandra pulled it away, the blood draining from her face as a strange sense of dread settled deep in her bones.

“This... this is something far beyond what I thought,” Dr. Rhodes said, his voice low and gravely serious. “Whatever this symbol is, it’s connected to you—and dangerous.”

Lysandra’s mind was spinning, the weight of the discovery settling over her like a suffocating fog. Her childhood medical records were the last thing she ever expected to see again, especially not under these circumstances. But there was more—so much more. The symbol was only the beginning. The truth was out there, and it was coming for her. The wind blew through the open window, "Sending a chill down my spine.

And for the first time, Lysandra felt something deep within her stir—a primal force she couldn’t ignore. A force that was now awakening.

A sudden knock at the door broke the silence, and Lysandra’s heart leaped into her throat. She wasn’t alone.

The door opened, and standing in the doorway was a shadow—a figure she had never seen before. But his eyes... his eyes were unmistakable. The same wolf-like gaze she had seen in her photographs.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the stranger, the moonlight casting his silhouette in a haunting glow.

“Lysandra Cole,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s time you knew the truth.”