The first thing Leira felt was the heat.
It wrapped around her like she'd been lying too close to a fire. Her skin was sticky, her hair damp against her neck, and for a second, she couldn't tell if she was dreaming or if this was real. Her body ached like she had been thrown around by a storm.
Rain. A bridge. That voice.
And something else… something darker she couldn't name.
Her arm still ached where something had grazed her back on the bridge. She hadn't noticed it then, not until now, when it pulsed faintly beneath her skin, like a second heartbeat.
She opened her eyes slowly. The ceiling above her wasn't familiar. The wood was old and uneven, with tiny lines running through it like veins. A soft orange light flickered somewhere nearby, shadows moving slowly across the walls.
She pushed herself up, her head spinning. She wasn't in her room. This place smelled of smoke and herbs, and something metallic underneath. That smell again.
The room was small, quiet in a way that made her skin prickle. A black leather jacket hung over a chair. A kettle hissed softly on a small stove in the corner. On the table beside her lay a folded towel and a cup of water that hadn't been touched.
Her pulse jumped.
She swung her legs off the couch and stood, but her knees buckled instantly.
"Careful," a voice said.
She froze. The sound was calm, familiar, and almost too close.
Leira turned, her breath catching when she saw him, the boy from the bridge. He was sitting in a chair near the window, the light touching one side of his face.
He didn't look as intense as he had last night. The danger that clung to him then was still there, but muted, like he had buried it under a calm mask. His dark hair was still damp, curling slightly at the edges. His eyes met hers, steady, unreadable.
"What is this?" she demanded. Her voice came out hoarse. "Where am I?"
"My place," he said simply. "You fainted."
Leira blinked, trying to piece it all together. "You… brought me here?"
"You were bleeding."
Her stomach dropped. "I was what?"
He nodded toward her wrist. "Look."
She followed his gaze and froze. There, just beneath the soft skin of her arm, was a faint glow. A thin silver line pulsed under the surface like light trapped in glass.
It didn't look like a wound. It looked alive.
"What the hell…" She reached out to touch it, but the moment her finger brushed the mark, a sharp sting shot up her arm. She gasped and pulled back. "What did you do to me?"
"Nothing." His tone softened. "That's not from me. That's from you."
"From me?" Her voice rose. "What does that even mean?"
He stood slowly, his movements quiet but deliberate. "It means that who you really are… it's waking up."
Leira let out a shaky laugh. "Wow… so you're actually insane. I'm just… I don't know what this is, but I'm done, okay? There is nothing waking up anywhere, and who I really am is a regular person, I get scared, I bleed, I cry. I'm not… whatever you think I am."
He tilted his head, studying her. "You really don't know."
"For heavens sake, know what?!"
His silence made her more nervous than his words.
After a long pause, he finally said, "You're not entirely human."
For a second, she just stared at him. Then she shook her head and backed toward the door. "Okay. Yeah. No. I'm not doing this. I'm leaving."
She grabbed the doorknob and twisted. It didn't move. She tried again. Nothing.
"It's locked," he said quietly.
She turned sharply toward him. "Then unlock it."
"I can't."
"Can't, or won't?"
"Both," he admitted. "Not until it's safe."
"Safe? Safe from what?"
His eyes flicked toward the window. "From what followed you before."
The room seemed to tilt. "Followed me?"
He nodded. "It smelled your blood. That mark on your arm, it's not just a scar. It's a signal. You lit a flare in the dark, Leira. And now, everything that hunts in that dark knows where you are."
Her voice trembled. "You're lying."
He sighed and reached into his pocket. When he pulled his hand out, he held something small and blackened. It looked like a charm or a coin, cracked down the middle.
"This was a Hunter's sigil," he said. "It melted when your blood touched it."
She stared at the object, then at him. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest. "This can't be real. It's not possible."
"You don't have to believe me," he said, his tone steady. "But look at your wrist again. That light isn't supposed to be possible. And yet, there it is."
Leira glanced down at the faint glow beneath her skin. It pulsed once, almost in rhythm with her heart.
"I don't understand," she whispered. "What do you want from me?"
"Nothing," he said quietly. "But others, they want everything. Your blood, your power, your name."
"My name?"
He nodded. "Leira Vance, right?"
She hesitated. "Yes."
He looked almost sad when he said, "Then you need to listen, Leira. You have no idea who you are or how long they've been looking for you."
Her throat tightened. "Who's they?"
"The Keepers."
The way he said it sent a chill down her spine.
"And if they find you before I do what I have to do," he continued, "you won't survive the week."
She backed away, pressing her hand over the glowing mark. "You're not making any sense."
"I know." His eyes softened for the first time. "But it will."
Leira stared at him, still shaking. "You keep talking like you know me. Who are you?"
He hesitated, almost like he hadn't expected her to ask. Then, quietly, he said, "Kael."
The name felt strange on her tongue when she repeated it. "Kael."
Something about it didn't sound new, it sounded remembered.
Suddenly, air around them shifted, thick with something unseen. The faint hum in her wrist grew louder, sharper, until the light beneath her skin flared bright enough to fill the room.
Leira gasped. "What's happening?"
Kael's expression changed. He looked at her like he was seeing a ghost, like something ancient had just opened its eyes.
"It's already starting," he murmured.
She stumbled back, her shoulder hitting the wall. "What's starting? What is happening to me?"
He hesitated, his jaw tightening. Then, with a quiet kind of sadness, he said, "The part where you stop pretending you're human."
For a heartbeat, the room seemed to hold its breath. The light on her wrist pulsed again, then spread, faint veins of silver running up her arm. The air vibrated, humming with power she didn't understand.
Leira's breath came fast and shallow. "Make it stop! Please, make it stop."
Kael stepped closer but didn't touch her. "I can't. It's part of you. The more you fight it, the worse it gets."
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will it away. The glow flickered, dimmed, then finally faded, leaving only the sound of her heartbeat in the silence.
When she opened her eyes again, Kael was still standing there, watching her. Not afraid. Not curious. Just… sad.
"What am I?" she whispered.
He didn't answer. He just looked away, his jaw tightening as if the truth itself hurt to say aloud.
"Rest," he finally said. "You'll need it."
"What does that mean?"
"There's a storm coming."
And with that, he turned toward the door, leaving her standing there in a silence that felt too loud, her wrist still faintly glowing under the skin.
Leira sank back onto the couch, her mind racing, her chest tight. Somewhere outside, thunder rolled across the horizon.
For the first time in her life, she was afraid to hear the rain.