The dream came without warning.
One moment, Elora lay in her bed beneath layers of blankets and half-moons of silver light. The next, the air shifted—no longer cool and real, but hot, thick, and ancient.
She stood barefoot in a vast forest. The trees around her stretched so high their tops disappeared into the clouds. But these weren't the familiar woods of Hawthorne. These trees pulsed with faint green light, their bark etched with glowing veins like they were made from living memory.
The ground under her feet vibrated like it carried a heartbeat. A pulse that echoed through her own chest.
Boom.
Boom.
Ahead, in a clearing wrapped in vines and woven branches, three figures stood in a triangle, surrounded by swirling runes that shimmered gold, silver, and deep root green.
A woman cloaked in moss and fire— though Elora somehow knew her without being told.
A tall man in plated armor of midnight and ash—a red haired man, proud, cold, and distant.
And a third: a frost-eyed stranger with hair the color of winter clouds reminding her of Devin bearing a long staff of carved ice and bone.
They didn't see her. They moved like ghosts repeating a memory.
The woman raised her hands. Her voice, when it came, was wind in the leaves and thunder behind mountains.
"The seal is set. It will hold, for now. But time is not mercy. One day, he will rise again."
The red haired man nodded stiffly. "Then we leave warnings. And we bury the truth."
The woman turned to him. "You'll do more than that. You'll pretend to hate us."
The red haired man jaw twitched. "For the sake of peace."
"For the sake of fear," the platinum blonde man murmured.
The woman unwrapped a scroll from within her cloak and passed it into red haired man's hands. "When the time comes, the descendants will know."
The platinum blonde man looked up, his breath fogging the air. "But by then, we may have lost them all."
The trees began to shake. Wind howled.
And then—the woman turned.
Looked directly at Elora.
"Wake up."
She shot upright in bed, breath caught in her throat, skin clammy. The morning light was barely peeking through the attic window, but her heart was racing like she'd run for miles.
Elora pressed her hand to her chest. The beat in her ribs was real—but the echo still lingered. That pulse. That deep, steady rhythm, like the roots beneath Hawthorne had called her name again.
At school, the day started normal enough—at least by Hawthorne standards. People still stared. Whispers still followed her in the halls like shadows. But none of that mattered today. Not when she could still feel the dream clinging to her bones.
She moved through her classes in a haze. Until the lunch bell rang.
That was when she saw him again.
Devin Knight.
Standing just beyond the edge of the hallway crowd. Platinum-blond hair catching the light. Expression unreadable—but something in his stance shifted when he saw her.
He walked toward her.
Panic flared in her chest.
Elora dropped her gaze to the floor—don't let him see your eyes. Don't let him feel the strange thing that lived inside them. What if he sensed the way her veins still hummed with that pulse from the dream?
He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could hear the quiet steadiness of his breath.
"Hey," he said softly. "Your nose… from the other day. Is it okay?"
Elora nodded, still staring at the floor. "Yeah. It's fine. Thanks."
Silence.
It stretched awkwardly. Too long.
She still didn't look up.
She couldn't.
Not with everything stirring inside her.
Devin shifted, then stepped back.
"…Right. Well, I'm glad you're alright."
She heard the discomfort in his voice. The quiet misunderstanding. The way he took her silence for rejection.
And then he was gone.
She lifted her eyes just in time to watch him walk away—shoulders squared, jaw tight.
And something in her chest cracked.
Not loudly.
Not painfully.
But it left her hollow.
Why does this hurt so much?
She didn't even know him.
But somehow, every step he took away from her felt like a door closing.
-------------------------
The next time Elora saw Devin, it wasn't planned. It wasn't gentle.
It was a hallway collision.
One moment she was walking toward her next class, notebook in hand, lost in the haze of her earlier conversation—or lack thereof—with Devin. The next, a sharp shoulder clipped her.
Hard.
She staggered, nearly dropping her books. Her feet slipped. Her heart jerked.
Someone's hand shot out.
Warm fingers caught her arm just before she fell.
Electricity exploded where their skin met. Invisible but immediate. Her breath caught. The hallway noise dimmed. The contact sent a ripple through her entire body like she'd touched something ancient and wild.
And when she looked up—
Devin Knight.
His hand still on her arm. His breath—stilled. His hazel eyes widened as if he felt it too. And he did. She saw it. In the flicker of panic behind his steady mask.
His fingers trembled.
At that moment Mira's warning flew over her head
"Did you…" he breathed, voice lower, caught somewhere between apology and something else.
She didn't speak. She couldn't.
That's when Silva Barnes stepped in.
She emerged from the crowd like a shadow with a manicure, her perfect face twisting into a too-sweet smile that never reached her eyes. She slotted herself between them, her arm hooking around Devin's.
"There you are," Silva purred, pulling him gently—possessively—away. "We've been looking for you."
Devin blinked, still dazed, and allowed himself to be turned. But not fully.
He glanced back at Elora.
Silva noticed.
Her smile twitched, just for a second, before she turned her gaze on Elora.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced," she said. "But let me make something very clear. People like Devin?" She tilted her head. "They're a little out of reach for… girls like you."
Her voice was honey-soaked venom. Too soft. Too sharp.
Devin gently pulled his arm away.
"Silva," he said quietly. Not angry. But distant. Cold. "That's enough."
And then—to Elora's shock—he gave her a nod.
Not out of pity.
But respect.
Then he walked off. Alone.
Silva watched him go, her nostrils flaring. When she turned back, the mask was gone.
She stepped close.
Too close.
She shoved Elora's shoulder with enough force to make her stumble half a step.
"You weird little creep," Silva hissed. "Whatever you think this is—stop. Stay out of his way. You don't belong here. You don't belong anywhere. I bet your parents regret giving birth to a green eyed bitch"
The words sank in like barbs, but Elora didn't react. Not at first.
She simply straightened her back. Lifted her chin. And walked away.
Not because she wasn't angry.
But because something colder had awakened inside her.
And she didn't need words to fight someone like Silva.
Jessi found her near the back stairwell, pacing like she was trying not to explode.
"I saw it," Jessi said. "I saw everything. And I swear, if you hadn't walked away, I would've popped that plastic Barbie right in the jaw."
Elora grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hall. "Not here."
"She shoved you, El! And she called you—"
"I know," Elora said, her voice low. "Let it go."
"Let it—?" Jessi hissed. "Are you serious? I'm this close—"
Elora turned, eyes glittering like cold fire. "Please."
Jessi went quiet.
Not because she wasn't furious.
But because in that moment, Elora looked like something other.
Like something rooted and ancient and dangerous.
"…Fine," Jessi muttered. "But if she even breathes at you again, I'm not making promises."
They walked together in silence after that.
And though the storm passed for now, its echo lingered.
Because Silva had drawn blood.
And Elora wasn't going to forget.
Neither, it seemed, would Devin.