The sky was heavy with clouds, and rain fell mercilessly on the narrow streets.
Kalin and Kala walked cautiously, their feet quickly soaking, the cold piercing their bones.
Every step weighed heavily on Kalin's heart. Anya's sudden departure left a strange emptiness in his chest, a sense of loss he had never known before.
Kala held his small hand, her wide eyes full of fear and confusion.
Then they heard footsteps. Behind them. Steady, close, as if waiting for a chance.
Kalin clenched his fists, feeling his heartbeat accelerate.
"Kala… don't be afraid, I will protect you," he said in a low voice, trying to sound brave despite the fear.
But his heart was racing faster than ever before.
From the shadows emerged a mysterious figure. Nothing marked it except the cold eyes watching them mercilessly.
The chase began.
They leapt over boxes, dodged around obstacles, and tried to hide in tight corners, yet every move was observed.
Kala began to cry, her choked voice blending with the rain.
"Calm down, Kala! Just hold on to me," Kalin said, quickening his pace.
Then suddenly, they faced the first trap.
A figure from the shadows lunged at them. It didn't aim to kill… only to test.
Kalin tried to fend off the attack, but his shoulder was struck. Blood began to flow, and the pain made him hesitate for a moment.
Kala screamed, but Kalin lifted himself, pain mingling with anger.
"I won't let you hurt her!" he shouted, lunging forward again.
The enemy retreated slightly, then vanished into the shadows. But it hadn't gone far.
Kalin felt real danger for the first time. Not just physically, but the internal break that began to fill him.
Suddenly, he remembered the secret Anya had never told him, the thing he had sensed when she saw the shadow:
That she knew about his past… about the power inside him he hadn't understood yet.
Kalin held a small piece of the symbol Anya had left him, a reminder of what she was trying to protect him from.
The chase continued. The rain grew heavier, flooding the streets, lightning flashing between the buildings.
Other footsteps appeared. This time, not one figure, but a group.
Each step made Kalin's heart clench more, but he knew he couldn't run forever.
Then, in a moment, the wounds and blood were no longer just physical pain. The psychological pain became sharper:
Seeing Kala scared, seeing the rain wash away their tears, feeling helpless against a vast world.
And as he breathed heavily, he made a painful decision.
"Kala… we have to be strong, but we must learn wisdom first. I promise, we will return… but for now, we must protect ourselves." He said with teary eyes.
Kalin placed his hand on his heart, taking a deep breath, ready for whatever was coming.
The danger had not ended.
A figure continued to follow them from afar, hiding in the shadows, watching their every move.
And in Kalin's heart, anger, fear, and sorrow mingled, but something else began to emerge:
Determination. The true will to survive, to protect his sister, and to uncover the truth about Anya and the power within him.
The night grew darker, and the wind howled as if warning of what was coming.
With every step, every raindrop, every heartbeat, Kalin knew the real test had not yet begunThe night pressed down harder than Kalin had ever felt. Every creak of the wooden shelter, every whisper of wind through the cracks, made his small body tense. His sister, Kala, slept beside him, curled into herself, trusting him without words. But trust, he realized, could be a dangerous thing.
Anya had disappeared the day before. Her sudden absence left a hollow ache in his chest. He had wanted to thank her, to give her the white flower he had saved for her, but when he arrived, she was gone. The chair where she had always sat was empty, and only her faint scent lingered in the small shelter. Kalin's tiny hands clenched around the flower, his chest tight with sorrow.
Outside, shadows moved differently. A presence that was not the wind or the night air watched from the alley. Kalin felt it first as a chill crawling up his spine, then as eyes—sharp, calculating—tracking his every move. He froze, realizing the shadow was not alone. Others, silent and deadly, slipped closer, hiding in the dark corners of the street.
Kalin whispered to Kala, "Stay close. Don't make a sound."
But the shadow knew he was there. It wasn't just watching—it was learning, predicting.
A sudden rush—a figure lunged from the shadows. Kalin barely had time to move, throwing his small body in front of Kala. The attacker's hand struck his arm, drawing a thin line of blood. His small fingers tingled, hot with pain, but he refused to scream. Pain was weakness; weakness could get them both killed.
Another shadow appeared. Kalin's heart pounded. There were too many. Too fast. He had never faced anything like this. The alley seemed to shrink around him, walls closing in, and the night felt alive with malice.
"Run!" he shouted to Kala, dragging her behind him.
They stumbled through the narrow streets, ducking behind crates and overturned barrels. The attackers followed relentlessly, silent but swift, their faces hidden beneath dark hoods. Kalin's small legs burned, but he refused to slow. Every step was a gamble. Every turn could be the last.
Finally, he reached a dead-end street. His chest heaved. Kala clung to him, tears streaking her dirt-smudged face. Kalin knew there was no escape. Not this way. Not alone.
From the shadows, a figure emerged—taller, broader, unmistakably dangerous. Kalin recognized the symbol on his cloak. It was the same one from the piece of cloth the shadow had shown the day Anya left. Memories he didn't know he had surfaced—a fragmented warning, a dream, a past not entirely his own.
"You've grown, little one," the figure said, voice like gravel scraping steel. "But you're far from ready."
Kalin's small hands balled into fists. Fear mingled with anger. "I won't let you hurt my sister!" he shouted, the first real defiance in his voice.
The figure smiled, not warmly, but with a satisfaction that made Kalin's stomach churn. A sudden movement—like lightning—sent the other attackers flanking him. Kalin felt one strike at him again. Pain flared along his ribs. He stumbled but caught himself, remembering what Anya had taught him: control your fear. Control your power.
Closing his eyes, he drew in a shaky breath, imagining Anya's face, her reassuring voice telling him he could survive. And then—something inside him snapped awake.
Energy surged through him, raw and wild. Kalin felt his small frame filled with a force he had only glimpsed before. His fists struck out, hitting faster and harder than his body should have allowed. Shadows fell back, some wailing, some silent, all retreating from a power they had underestimated.
But the figure in the cloak didn't move. It studied him, eyes gleaming with curiosity and calculation. Kalin's chest heaved; his small arms shook from exertion.
"You… you have it," the figure said. "The power Anya feared would awaken. But power comes with a cost, boy."
Before Kalin could ask what that meant, the figure vanished, slipping into the darkness with his allies, leaving only the echo of their presence. The night was still again, but the alley held the memory of their attack, and Kalin felt a sharp line of pain across his arm.
He sank to the ground, breathing hard, tears welling in his blue eyes. Kala crawled beside him, placing her tiny hand on his arm. "Are you okay?" she whispered, voice trembling.
"I… I think so," he said softly. But the truth gnawed at him. He had survived, yes—but barely. The world had just shown him how dangerous it truly was. And Anya… she had left him with this power, with responsibility he wasn't sure he could bear.
Kalin pulled the white flower from his pocket. Its petals were crushed and bent from the chase, but still white, still pure. He pressed it to his chest. This is for her. For Anya. For everything she believed in.
Above, clouds gathered. Rain began to fall softly, then harder. Kalin sat there, drenched, holding the flower tightly. Kala leaned against him, shivering, yet they felt a strange comfort in the storm, as if it cleansed the fear, if only a little.
He whispered to the rain, to the shadows, to the night itself, "I'll be ready. I'll protect my sister. I'll find her again, and I'll face everything—no matter the cost."
And for the first time, Kalin felt the weight of the world on his small shoulders, but he also felt the spark of something stronger than fear: determination.
The alley was empty now. The rain fell steadily. And somewhere in the dark, eyes watched. Waiting. Calculating. Knowing the boy with blue-tinted hair would grow—but what he would become, none could yet say.