Chapter 2: The Stranger in the Hallway
Lila's eyes twitched beneath shut lids, trapped in the grip of a nightmare that felt more like a memory. Shadows coiled around her like smoke, whispering ancient words that scraped across her mind in a language she didn't recognize—but somehow understood.
Lila…
Lila…
The voice was neither male nor female. It pulsed like a heartbeat, low and thunderous, vibrating through the darkness of a forest drenched in mist. The trees loomed tall and skeletal, branches bending toward her like fingers.
A sharp wind knifed through the gloom, carrying the scent of burning ash and something older—blood, perhaps. Leaves rustled underfoot, though she wasn't moving. They whispered secrets too low to hear, yet their meaning echoed in her bones.
And then she saw it.
A figure, glowing faintly in the distance. Cloaked in black, its face obscured by a deep hood. It stood motionless in the center of a clearing, one pale, long-fingered hand stretched toward her, beckoning.
Lila's breath came in quick, shallow bursts. She stepped forward, compelled by something beyond fear. Her hand lifted, trembling, until her fingers nearly touched the light radiating from the stranger's palm.
A heartbeat.
Another.
Contact.
The second her skin brushed the glow, the world detonated.
The shadows exploded into shrieking silence, a scream without sound. Lila fell backward—falling not through space, but through time, through memory, through something ancient and suffocating.
A dagger of cold pierced her chest.
And the voice returned.
"The blood you carry will change everything."
Lila's eyes flew open.
Her room swam into view, distorted by the lingering fog of the dream. Pale morning light filtered weakly through her curtains, but it brought no warmth. Her skin prickled with goosebumps. The weight of the dream clung to her chest like wet cloth.
She sat up slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her sheets were damp with sweat. Her fingers curled around the fabric as she tried to breathe—deep, calming breaths.
It didn't help.
She stared at the floor. What the hell was that?
The dream had felt too real. Not like a story her mind invented, but like a warning.
She shook her head. "It's nothing," she muttered. "Just another weird dream."
But she didn't believe that.
And the chill in the air didn't go away.
After dressing in a daze, she left for school, earbuds in, music blaring in a futile attempt to drown out the echo of the figure's voice. The blood you carry…
Each word lingered, digging its hooks deeper into her mind.
When she stepped onto school grounds, the sun should have warmed her skin. Instead, a biting cold brushed over her as though she had crossed into another realm entirely.
The hallways were packed, students laughing, shouting, slamming lockers—but it all sounded distant. Muffled. Like she was underwater.
She barely noticed someone standing directly in her path until she walked right into them.
Her books tumbled to the floor.
"Whoa!" a calm, steady voice said, catching her elbow before she could stumble. "You're Lila, right?"
She blinked. The boy was tall, with dark tousled hair and startling grey eyes that studied her with unsettling intensity. Something about his presence scraped against her nerves—familiar, but wrong. Like déjà vu gone sour.
"Maybe," she said, voice sharper than intended. "Who's asking?"
He didn't flinch. "I'm Adrien."
A pause. Then he added quietly, "And you need to listen."
Lila's eyes narrowed. "I don't know you."
"But I know you," he said evenly. "And whether you want to or not, you're going to remember me soon."
Her heart jolted. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Adrien leaned in slightly, dropping his voice so only she could hear. "You're not who you think you are. And the dream… it wasn't just a dream."
Her breath caught.
Before she could say anything else, the warning bell rang overhead. Students began to shift around them like a tide.
Lila brushed past him without another word and slipped into her classroom.
Her heart was still racing.
She sat down, trying to calm herself, but her fingers fidgeted against the desk. Everything felt wrong. Wrong in a way she couldn't explain—not yet.
That's when she saw it.
A folded slip of paper sat neatly on her desk. No one around her seemed to notice it. No name. No handwriting she recognized.
With shaking fingers, she unfolded it.
Just one line, written in crisp, angular script:
"The blood you carry is not ordinary. The shadows are coming."
A cold fist closed around her throat. Her gaze darted around the room, searching for someone watching—but all she saw were classmates glued to their phones or chatting as if the world wasn't splintering at the edges.
Adrien's words echoed again. You're not who you think you are.
Her chest tightened. She folded the note and slid it into her pocket like it might burn her fingers if left in the open. Questions buzzed in her skull, but none of them had answers.
What blood?
What shadows?
Why her?
And most of all—how did he know?
Outside, the sky dimmed suddenly, though the clock read only 8:16 a.m.
She glanced at the window.
A shadow moved across the glass.