Rachel didn’t sleep that night. Again.The Council’s eyes had followed her out of the stone chamber with suspicion half-tamed and fear barely concealed. Though they hadn’t imprisoned her—or worse—they hadn’t accepted her, either. She wasn’t a threat, not yet, but she wasn’t an ally, and she could feel it in the silence they left behind. A silence that made the back of her neck itch.Now, hours later, she sat by the window of Dylan’s bedroom, curled up in a chair with her legs pulled to her chest, watching the first blush of morning bleed across the skyline. Another sleepless night. Another weight she couldn’t name pressing into her chest.“You ever going to tell me what they really said in there?”Dylan’s voice came from the bed. He hadn’t turned the light on. He didn’t need to.Rachel didn’t turn around. “You already know.”“They think you’re a coin toss.”She nodded. “And they want to know which side I’ll land on when things break.”Dylan stood and crossed the room. He knelt in fron
The journey back to Bunga was quiet.Too quiet.Rachel sat in the back of the armored vehicle, her hand pressed to Dylan’s chest, steadying the healing pulse Nyra had cast over his heart. He hadn’t woken. His skin had warmed slightly, but his breathing remained shallow. She counted every breath like it was a countdown—one she couldn’t afford to lose.Stacy sat across from them, bruised and scraped but alert, her gaze locked on Dylan’s unconscious face. She hadn’t spoken since they left the ruins. Rachel knew why.They’d seen something ancient.Something wrong.And it was awake now.Nyra sat by the rear door, muttering incantations under her breath, casting protective wards over the vehicle as it rolled down the cracked mountain road. Each spell flickered like a shield, a desperate buffer against whatever might still be watching them from the trees.“She took the name ‘The First Flame,’” Rachel said softly, breaking the silence.Stacy looked up. “Do you know who she is?”“Not exactly.
The storm rolled in without warning.By morning, the Bunga skyline was hidden behind sheets of rain and fog. Clouds hung low and thick, choking the sun into a dull gray smear. Rachel stood at the center of Nyra’s ritual chamber, dressed in black training gear, bare feet planted on cool stone. Her eyes remained closed, her breathing calm, but the storm outside mirrored the chaos pressing against the edges of her mind.The First Flame’s final words echoed louder each day.*“Elira was the second.”*There had been another.A predecessor. A first.And Rachel knew one thing: if that woman’s existence had been buried, it wasn’t by accident.Nyra lit the final rune candle, her lips moving in a low chant. Stacy stood at the door, arms folded, not interrupting but not relaxing either. Dylan leaned against the wall, bruised and silent. Since Ashvale, his mood had shifted—protective, but distant, as if he was bracing for something they couldn’t name yet.Rachel opened her eyes.“I’m ready.”Nyra
Somewhere in the mountain lands on the 14th century..... On the crest of a mountain, a small village inhabited by a group of extraordinary people who can transform into enormous wolves. They referred to their small community as a “pack,” which is led by an “alpha” chief. The majority of their dwellings were constructed entirely of straw, hay, and wood. A massive fire blazes in the dead of night, rapidly consuming highly flammable materials down into ashes. Frantic shouting and wailing drown by the ferocious crackling of the burgeoning massive fire. Few men attempted to extinguish it with a wooden bucket filled with water, but their efforts were fruitless, as the angry fire had consumed nearly half of the small hut. The door collapses with a loud groaned, revealing from the inside of the burning hut a slump of a man that is started to stir into awake. “Murderer!” Dylan woke up by the screams of voices surrounding him. The crackling of fire sounds deafening on his ear and a p
The year 2021, Present Day.......... In the distance, the gloomy sky was rolling above her as she kneeled over the freshly dug wet dirt. The rain is pelting down in torrents, lashing against her back with ferocity. It’s bitterly cold outside, but that doesn’t seem to bother her as the pain in her heart appears to overpower all other emotions. It has only been a day since they arrive in Bunga. The rest of the refugees who boarded with Lockheed C130 Hercules plane came from the east of Azran. They fled since the communist group had taken control of their country and the government had abandoned its people, leaving them to fend for themselves in the face of overwhelming odds. Rachel and her sickly senior citizen mother were fortunate enough to take the military aircraft as the forces of neighboring countries withdrew their connections with Azrans. It all happened far too quickly. They were only eating their breakfast while watching the news on television, which was reporting on th
At the tallest building in Bunga City............ Behind the chromic steel spacious desk, beyond the stack of documented papers, stood an imposing man dressed impeccably in a tight charcoal suit that stretches with every movement. Dylan stared to his reflection at the floor-to-ceiling glass windowsill, giving him a full panoramic display of the washed-out blue sky above him and the entire bustling city below. Prominent skyscrapers compete with one another to reach his level, but none have succeeded in surpassing what he had built for centuries. Even after all the years he had spent here in Bunga, the memories of his past still burn in his head like they happened yesterday. The death of his mate, Laura, her smiling face, and her harrowing death. His son, Myro, was still so young when it happened, a pure life that was taken too early. Though he was looking at the sight that stretched ahead of him, his mind flew back towards the memories that haunted him every single day. He can’t
Sighing, she pushed her hand to her jeans and was about to pull out her left-over coins when the shirt that the man was wearing began to tear off. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth hung ajar as his body started to swell, getting bigger and bigger, hairs growing all over him, turning into a coat of white fur. Limbs bent awkwardly until it stood in all fours, furry tail spurted out from his coccyx. Rachel was frozen in her place as she witnessed the man turn into a dog-like beast, a humungous beast resembling a wolf. ‘Werewolf? her mind wracked over the fantasy movies she had watched with her mother, especially those mythical creatures. ‘Was I dreaming? Do my eyes were playing tricks on me?’ Couldn’t believe what she just saw, a scream ought to rip from her throat, but she chokes in it and let out a pitchy squeak instead. She tried to cover her mouth with her hand, but it came too late and had the growling wolf already facing her, baring its fangs. As if the world stopped spinn
While she was busy eating her hot noodles when her phone suddenly vibrated. When she saw the unidentified caller's number flashing on her phone screen, she almost burned her tongue and spit the contents of her mouth back into the cup she was holding. With her brows deeply furrowed, she swipes up the jumping green icon on the screen with her knuckles, and pressing the button to turn on the loudspeaker. “Hello...... ?” The other line spoke first, hesitantly. It was a man. Rachel didn’t answer right away and let the caller finished what he was about to say. “Is this Rachel Dockham?” With wide eyes, she put down the cup to the coffee table and snatched her phone, placing it against her ear. “Yes, speaking.” “Uhm, this is from Cloud-Nine Coffee shop, and you are hired.” The caller said without any other preamble that left Rachel speechless on her seat, her mouth hanging wide open. Her mind currently digesting the good news. “Hello? Miss Dockham? Are you still there?” said from t
The storm rolled in without warning.By morning, the Bunga skyline was hidden behind sheets of rain and fog. Clouds hung low and thick, choking the sun into a dull gray smear. Rachel stood at the center of Nyra’s ritual chamber, dressed in black training gear, bare feet planted on cool stone. Her eyes remained closed, her breathing calm, but the storm outside mirrored the chaos pressing against the edges of her mind.The First Flame’s final words echoed louder each day.*“Elira was the second.”*There had been another.A predecessor. A first.And Rachel knew one thing: if that woman’s existence had been buried, it wasn’t by accident.Nyra lit the final rune candle, her lips moving in a low chant. Stacy stood at the door, arms folded, not interrupting but not relaxing either. Dylan leaned against the wall, bruised and silent. Since Ashvale, his mood had shifted—protective, but distant, as if he was bracing for something they couldn’t name yet.Rachel opened her eyes.“I’m ready.”Nyra
The journey back to Bunga was quiet.Too quiet.Rachel sat in the back of the armored vehicle, her hand pressed to Dylan’s chest, steadying the healing pulse Nyra had cast over his heart. He hadn’t woken. His skin had warmed slightly, but his breathing remained shallow. She counted every breath like it was a countdown—one she couldn’t afford to lose.Stacy sat across from them, bruised and scraped but alert, her gaze locked on Dylan’s unconscious face. She hadn’t spoken since they left the ruins. Rachel knew why.They’d seen something ancient.Something wrong.And it was awake now.Nyra sat by the rear door, muttering incantations under her breath, casting protective wards over the vehicle as it rolled down the cracked mountain road. Each spell flickered like a shield, a desperate buffer against whatever might still be watching them from the trees.“She took the name ‘The First Flame,’” Rachel said softly, breaking the silence.Stacy looked up. “Do you know who she is?”“Not exactly.
Rachel didn’t sleep that night. Again.The Council’s eyes had followed her out of the stone chamber with suspicion half-tamed and fear barely concealed. Though they hadn’t imprisoned her—or worse—they hadn’t accepted her, either. She wasn’t a threat, not yet, but she wasn’t an ally, and she could feel it in the silence they left behind. A silence that made the back of her neck itch.Now, hours later, she sat by the window of Dylan’s bedroom, curled up in a chair with her legs pulled to her chest, watching the first blush of morning bleed across the skyline. Another sleepless night. Another weight she couldn’t name pressing into her chest.“You ever going to tell me what they really said in there?”Dylan’s voice came from the bed. He hadn’t turned the light on. He didn’t need to.Rachel didn’t turn around. “You already know.”“They think you’re a coin toss.”She nodded. “And they want to know which side I’ll land on when things break.”Dylan stood and crossed the room. He knelt in fron
Rachel stood before the floor-length mirror in her bedroom, staring at her reflection—not for vanity, but to make sure she still recognized the face staring back. Her eyes no longer flashed silver. Her aura no longer surged uncontrollably. The storm within had stilled, but that quiet carried its own kind of warning.She pressed a palm to her chest. The bond that once strained her soul felt like a scar now—healed but never forgotten. She wasn’t Elira. But Elira was now, undeniably, a part of her.A soft knock on the door broke the silence.“It’s open,” she called.Stacy entered, holding a tray with toast and Nyra’s herbal tea. “If you skip another meal, Dylan’s gonna drag you to the kitchen himself.”Rachel gave a soft smile. “Thanks.”Stacy set the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed. “So… you really feel normal again?”Rachel paused. “I feel different. But not unstable.”Stacy studied her carefully. “What does that mean?”“It means I feel like me. Just... upgraded.” She gave a s
The air was still. Heavy. The kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums, stretching time itself. Rachel sat at the edge of the ritual circle, the same one that had nearly torn her apart hours earlier. Her legs were folded, spine straight, palms resting against her knees. Her breathing was steady now. No silver light. No flickers of power. No whispers from Elira. Just silence. For the first time in weeks, she felt... alone in her own mind. And yet, not. ere You’re different,” Stacy said, standing in the doorway. “Even your posture. It’s like you’re still you, but... more.” Rachel opened her eyes slowly. “Because I am.” Stacy walked in, barefoot, cautious. “You said you chose both. What does that mean?” Rachel looked up, meeting her gaze. “It means I didn’t destroy Elira. I accepted her.” “You *what*?” “She’s not whispering in my head anymore. She’s part of me. Not separate.” Stacy sat down across from her. “That sounds... dangerous.” “It is,” Rachel admitted. “But d
The wind outside the penthouse howled like something ancient had awakened. The eclipse was a few hours away. The sky had already begun its transformation—its deep blue turning pale gray, clouds crawling like shadows ready to devour the sun. Inside, the wards pulsed steadily, glowing brighter than usual, reacting to the shift in the air. Rachel sat at the dining table, staring at the untouched tea Nyra had made for her. She hadn’t spoken since waking. Not to Dylan. Not to Stacy. The conversation with Elira echoed in her skull like a warning bell she couldn’t silence. Only one of us survives. She didn’t know what that meant—not really. But every time she blinked, she saw Elira’s face burned into the backs of her eyelids, watched her vanish into cracked sky, felt the weight of a promise she hadn’t made. Stacy sat across from her, arms folded over a book, watching. Not reading. Just there. Waiting. “I don’t like this,” Stacy said quietly. Rachel didn’t respond. Stacy tapped t
The air inside the penthouse shifted the moment the wards were sealed. Nyra had drawn runes on every surface—windows, walls, even beneath the furniture. Silvery ink glowed faintly under dim light, vibrating with quiet energy. The moon eclipse was twenty-four hours away. The countdown had begun. Rachel stood barefoot in the center of the main room, surrounded by salt lines and symbols written in ancient tongue. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from anticipation. Her time was running out. And so was her control. Stacy stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching every move like she was ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. Dylan moved silently behind Nyra, assisting her as she laid the final ward across the ceiling. “How long will this link last?” Rachel asked, eyes flicking between the glowing symbols. Nyra didn’t look up. “Long enough to either ground you… or lose you completely.” Rachel tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “And Dylan will be inside my mind?”
Rachel watched the horizon from the balcony, the last hint of dusk melting into darkness. The city sparkled far below, distant and untouched by the chaos that stirred in her veins.Inside her chest, two truths warred for dominance: the Warden’s calm confession and Elira’s searing rage.She still didn’t know which one to trust.The door behind her opened. She didn’t have to look.“You haven’t spoken since the vision,” Dylan said.Rachel nodded, but said nothing.He stepped beside her. “Say something.”“I’m trying to make sense of it.”“Of what? That the Warden didn’t throw her into the fire, she *asked* for it?”She turned toward him. “Would you believe me if I said I understand?”His eyes narrowed. “Understand what?”“The desire to give up before losing control.”Silence fell between them.Dylan’s jaw tightened. “Don’t ever say that again.”“I’m not giving up. I’m saying… I get it now. The pressure. The weight. Elira was breaking, and no one listened. Not until it was too late.”“You
Rachel stood under the freezing shower, water crashing against her skin, but it did nothing to quiet the storm inside. Her fingers had stopped glowing, but the sensation lingered—like Elira’s presence was still coiled around her spine, watching her every move.She braced her hands against the tiled wall, breathing heavily, letting the cold slice through her thoughts.She could still hear Elira’s voice.*“Too late.”*Dylan waited outside the bathroom door. He hadn't said a word since they’d rushed her out of the circle. Nyra had wanted to run a full energy purge. Rachel refused. She didn’t want to be cleansed. She wanted to understand.The water turned off. Moments later, the door opened, steam spilling into the hallway. Rachel stepped out, towel around her shoulders, her expression unreadable.“She’s not a voice anymore,” she said. “She’s a presence. A force.”Dylan nodded slowly. “She’s merging.”“No. She’s *moving.* She’s done waiting for me to break.”“Then we stop her.”Rachel lea