Morning sunlight filtered through Daniel's curtains, warm and soft — but it did nothing to ease the chill clinging to him. His dreams lingered like smoke, bitter and heavy. The Gate. The voice. The feather in his hand.
Except now it wasn't there.
He sat up fast, scanning his room. Nothing. No feather on the nightstand, no trace on the floor. He checked his pockets — empty.
"Did I sleepwalk?" he whispered to himself.
His skin prickled. He rubbed his arms, trying to shake the unease, and froze.
Something was on his wrist.
A faint pattern — like delicate cracks glowing beneath the skin — sprawled across the inside of his right forearm. Pale, almost silver, like moonlight trapped under the flesh. Lines. Curves. Symbols.
Runes.
Daniel's breath caught. He scrubbed at them. Hard. They didn't fade. They just shimmered brighter for a second before dimming again.
"No. No, no, no — this isn't real."
He stumbled to the mirror, heart pounding. The markings were real. Beautiful in a haunting way, but wrong — so wrong.
His hand trembled.
> "When the chains break…
so too shall the Keeper awaken."
The voice didn't echo aloud — but he felt it in his bones.
He backed away from the mirror until he hit the wall. A bird shrieked outside, jolting him.
Think. Think.
He had school. He had to act normal. Normal boys didn't wake up with runes burning under their skin and voices whispering ancient prophecies in their dreams.
He grabbed his uniform, long sleeves today — thank God — and got dressed fast.
Pretend nothing happened. Pretend you're normal. Pretend your world isn't cracking open.
He stepped into the hallway, finding Maren already by the stove, stirring porridge. She didn't look up.
"You didn't sleep," she said softly.
Daniel swallowed. "I'm fine."
A lie. But somehow he knew — if he told her, she'd look at him differently. And he wasn't ready for that.
"You should eat," she murmured. "Days like this… the wind feels hungry."
Daniel blinked. "Hungry?"
She finally turned. Her eyes were tired — no, beyond tired. Haunted. The kind of look someone got when they were waiting for a storm only they could see.
"Just… be cautious," she said. "If anything unusual happens—"
"Unusual?" Daniel cut in, heartbeat spiking. "Like what? Voices? Dreams? Strange marks that don't—"
He bit his tongue.
Her spoon froze mid-air.
"What marks?"
"I said — strange things in general. Not me." He forced a laugh. It sounded brittle. "Totally hypothetical."
Her gaze lingered a moment too long. Then, she simply nodded and handed him his lunch.
He could almost feel the questions she wasn't asking trailing after him as he left.
---
The air outside felt wrong today. Still, heavy, like the world was holding its breath again.
Halfway to school, he found Xavier leaning on the fence outside their meeting tree.
"You look like you fought sleep and lost," Xavier said, trying to sound light. But concern shadowed his amber eyes.
"Just tired," Daniel muttered.
Xavier's nose twitched — like he smelled something. His eyes narrowed.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Daniel." His voice was firmer this time, with something sharp beneath it. Not anger — protectiveness. Or fear.
Daniel stuffed his hands in his pockets, hiding his wrist. "I just want a normal morning, okay?"
Xavier studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "Let's go."
---
Classes dragged. Words blurred. Chalk scraped. Students whispered. Daniel barely heard any of it.
His arm throbbed sometimes — faint, warm pulses like the runes were breathing. He didn't dare look. If he looked, it would be real again.
During history, Leah slid him a note.
You good?
He scribbled back without thinking:
Do you ever feel like something huge is about to happen?
She read it, eyebrows lifting, then wrote:
Yes — it's called finals.
He snorted in spite of himself.
But as he relaxed a little, the whisper returned.
> "Keeper…"
He jerked, dropping his pencil. Leah frowned. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just — spasm."
She gave him a look. She didn't believe him.
He barely made it to lunch before Xavier cornered him again.
"You're jumpy. You keep touching your sleeve. And you haven't eaten."
Daniel clenched his jaw. "Drop it."
"I can't."
"Then maybe stop hovering over me like—"
"Like what? Like someone trying to keep you alive?"
Xavier's voice cracked on the last word.
Daniel froze.
Their eyes met. Something unspoken burned between them — a truth both of them knew was there, but neither dared name yet.
"I just…" Daniel muttered. "I don't know what's going on."
Xavier's expression softened. "Then let me help."
"You can't."
You would if you told him, a voice whispered in Daniel's head.
Tell him, Keeper.
Daniel shut it out.
"I just need time."
Xavier nodded slowly. "Then I'll be here. As long as you need."
---
After school, the sky darkened unnaturally fast. Clouds rolled like bruises, heavy and threatening. A shiver crawled down Daniel's spine.
The wind picked up.
And then he heard it again — not whispered this time.
Screaming.
Not human.
From the woods.
Something crashing through branches. Snarling. Something hunting, or being hunted.
And beneath it all — a heartbeat-like thrum pulsed from his mark.
> Come
A command. A pull. Like invisible chains hooked into his bones, dragging him toward the tree line.
Daniel stumbled back, clutching his arm. "No. No — stop."
He wasn't going into those woods. Not again. Not while the world felt like it was splitting around him.
Then the brush exploded.
A shape — black, spined, wrong — lunged out. Not fully seen, just a mass of claw and shadow, shrieking like metal tearing.
Daniel's blood froze.
His feet refused to move.
It leaped— and stopped mid-air.
Because Maren was suddenly there.
She didn't walk. Didn't run. She was just there, like reality bent to place her between Daniel and the creature.
Her hand rose.
The air hummed.
Reality ripped. Light — cold and silver — flashed.
The creature evaporated.
Not burned. Not cut.
Erased.
Gone like it never existed.
Maren turned slowly, her face carved in stone. "Go home, Daniel."
He stared, trembling. "Aunty… what was that? What just—"
"Home."
"But—"
"Please." Her voice shook now. "Before more come."
More.
There were more.
Daniel swallowed. His legs moved on instinct, running — not from the monster.
From the truth.
Xavier appeared beside him halfway down the road, breathless. "You saw something, didn't you?"
Daniel didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
The terror in his eyes said everything.
---
That night, Daniel sat on his bed in the dark, clutching his marked wrist. The runes glowed faintly again, like fireflies trapped under skin.
> "Awaken…"
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"What are you?" he whispered. "What am I?"
No answer came.
Only the far-off echo of chains breaking, one by one.
And in the woods outside, unseen eyes watched the house — waiting.