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Chapter 8 - Rain & Ashes

The storm came out of nowhere.

One minute, the skies over Thornhollow were serene, washed in the golden haze of late afternoon. The next, they cracked wide open with thunder and wind like something ancient had stirred awake. Clouds churned low and fast across the sky, turning everything beneath them dark and urgent. Rain hammered against the windows of Lucia's old house, echoing through the quiet rooms like a warning.

I sat curled into the corner of the couch beneath a heavy blanket, a forgotten textbook open on my lap. Words blurred on the page. My highlighter sat uncapped beside me, bleeding ink onto the throw pillow. I hadn't turned a page in over an hour.

Ana had gone upstairs hours ago, claiming she needed to finish a reading for her elemental enchantments class-though I doubted she'd been studying either. And Lucia had disappeared into her garden shed out back, tending to herbs and rituals I wasn't ready to ask about.

Which left me alone.

Alone with thoughts I didn't want and feelings I couldn't name.

Professor Alec Anders.

His name had become a haunting refrain in my head-his voice, a lingering whisper I couldn't shake. Every look. Every word. The sharpness in his questions. The restraint in his posture. The tension beneath his skin when I got too close. It was like something in him recognized something in me before I even knew what I was offering.

It wasn't just attraction-it was pressure. Something magnetic. Something old.

Something dangerous.

I snapped the textbook shut with a sharp thud and stood, the blanket falling to the floor at my feet.

The air in the living room felt stifling. Too still. Like I was suffocating in someone else's silence.

I needed movement.

I needed to breathe.

I needed-

Out.

⸻---

The moment I stepped outside, the wind slapped me across the face. Rain lashed sideways, needling through my hoodie and into my skin. Tree branches clawed at the sky, their limbs writhing like they were trying to shake something loose.

Lightning cracked overhead.

I didn't flinch.

I shoved my hands deep into the front pocket of my hoodie and took off down the street, boots splashing through the rising puddles. The storm didn't scare me. It didn't even slow me down.

If anything, it felt like it understood me.

Wild. Unpredictable. Rising.

------

Rain soaked through my leggings and hair within minutes, plastering blond strands to my cheeks and neck. I didn't care. The water was cold, but I burned from the inside out-my magic buzzing in my veins like it was trying to burst free.

Something was pulling me forward-not a sound, not a scent, but a deep, rhythmic call I could only feel in my bones. It wasn't just instinct-it was memory. Something old, hidden, familiar.

My feet knew the way before my mind did.

I crossed the campus grounds, past shuttered windows and locked lecture halls. Everything was closed. Dark. But the old science building stood like a sentry in the rain, its brick walls slick with water and its rooftop whispering through the wind.

The stairwell behind it was overgrown, hidden by weeds and vines.

But I remembered it now.

There had been a rooftop garden here once. Abandoned. Forgotten. Maybe even sealed off to keep students away.

And yet... it called to me like a secret I'd left behind.

⸻---

The metal door at the top of the stairs creaked open under my hand. The wind ripped it from my grip and flung it wide with a shriek. I stepped onto the rooftop like crossing a threshold between worlds.

And there it was.

The rooftop garden.

What was left of it.

Ivy wound through cracks in the stone tiles. The remnants of garden beds were overrun with weeds and moss, broken fountains sunken in rainwater. A rusted bench leaned crooked beneath a crumbling trellis. Thornhollow's skyline flickered behind sheets of lightning. Every inch of the space was weathered, but it was alive.

It felt... sacred.

Somewhere in the chaos, this place had been mine once.

I just didn't know why.

I walked through the overgrowth, the wind tearing at my hoodie and soaking through to the bones. My fingers skimmed the lip of an old stone planter, chipped and cracked by time-and the moment I touched it, something slammed through me like a jolt of electricity.

A flash.

Small hands gripping the edge beside mine.

Laughter.

A boy with wind-tousled dark hair and eyes that flickered red beneath the moonlight.

His voice was soft. A promise whispered against the dark.

"I'll always find you. Even if you forget."

The image disappeared as fast as it came, leaving my breath caught in my throat and my heart thundering like the storm above me. I staggered back, blinking through the rain, trying to hold onto the feeling.

Trying not to be afraid of it.

Because I had seen him. And I had known him.

And that voice...

It sounded too much like him.

And that's when I felt it.

I didn't hear footsteps. I didn't need to.

The air shifted. The temperature around me changed.

I turned.

And there he was.

Alec.

Soaked. Silent. Still.

He stood just inside the rooftop door, the rain casting shadows across his sharp jawline, his storm-green eyes locked on me like I was the answer to a question he hadn't dared ask in years.

Neither of us moved.

The wind whipped between us. The storm screamed around us. But everything else stilled.

His clothes clung to him-black shirt, soaked and transparent in places. His sleeves were rolled up as always, arms folded across his chest like he was trying to hold something in. But his expression betrayed him.

He wasn't just watching me.

He felt it too.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, breath catching in my throat.

His voice came low, rough from more than just the storm. "I could ask you the same thing."

I didn't answer right away. I couldn't.

Because looking at him like this-with the wind howling and the city blurred behind him and rain washing the world clean-I felt like I was remembering something that hadn't happened yet.

Or maybe something I had just forgotten.

I folded my arms over my chest, though it did nothing to keep the cold out. "Did you follow me?"

Alec stepped forward, slowly, as if approaching something fragile. "No."

The rain carved down his face, catching in his lashes and sliding across the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His gaze didn't leave mine.

"I felt... something," he said, voice quieter now. "Something calling me here."

I swallowed hard. "You always feel things?"

His expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened. "Only when I'm near you."

The wind surged between us, almost enough to force me a step back, but I held my ground. My heart pounded, thudding like footsteps on hollow wood. Lightning flashed above, bathing us both in a stark, ghostly light.

I took a small step forward, rain slipping into my collar. "You've been here before."

It wasn't a question.

Alec's lips parted, then pressed back together. He didn't deny it.

"Maybe," he said finally, and his voice sounded... distant. "A long time ago."

My breath caught. I searched his face, looking for a clue, a crack, something to confirm what I already suspected but couldn't quite name. His jaw tensed. His eyes flickered-not with fear. With recognition.

"What is this place?" I asked again. "Why do I feel like it knows me?"

He didn't answer-not in words.

Instead, he looked at me with that gaze like thunder held just behind glass. There was so much in it. Pain. Memory. Want. Regret.

"You don't remember yet, do you?" he asked softly.

Those words-so simple-shattered something inside me.

Yet.

As if there was something I should remember.

As if there was something between us, something lost but not gone.

My lips parted. "Why do I feel like I've seen you before?" I whispered.

Alec stepped closer. Not enough to touch me. Just enough to feel the heat between us.

"Because you have," he said. "Even if you don't know it yet."

The rain muted. Or maybe I stopped noticing it.

He looked at me like he wanted to reach for me but couldn't. Like something inside him was screaming for caution.

"A long time ago," he murmured. "Before everything changed."

"What happened?" I asked. "What did we lose?"

He didn't respond-not with words.

Instead, the silence stretched between us, heavy with all the things neither of us could say. His hand twitched at his side, but he didn't move to take mine. His jaw was tight, like he was fighting something inside himself-something bigger than either of us.

"I shouldn't be here," he said finally, his voice hoarse.

"But you are."

The distance between us had vanished. Only a breath remained.

A gust of wind flung my wet hair across my face, and before I could react, his hand moved-fast, instinctual-brushing the strands away with careful fingers. He didn't pull away.

I froze.

His palm hovered just beside my cheek, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him despite the cold. My skin tingled where he'd touched me. Not just tingled-burned. Like the beginning of something I couldn't contain.

"Scarlet..." he whispered.

It wasn't just my name. It was a confession.

He looked at me like I was breaking him.

And I didn't know whether I wanted to lean in-or run.

His fingers curled slightly, like they might cup my jaw-but then his eyes shuttered, and he stepped back. The magic between us thinned like a veil snapping shut.

"You should get inside," he said, his voice tight. "Before the storm gets worse."

"It already did," I whispered.

He held my gaze for one more impossible second, then turned toward the stairwell, rain chasing him into the shadows.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And I stood there in the dark.

Alone.

But not empty.

Not anymore.

Because something had awakened in me. Something ancient. Something familiar.

And it had his name written all over it.

⸻---

The storm softened into a cold drizzle by the time I returned to Lucia's house. Water dripped from the porch roof like the sky had finally stopped crying. My clothes clung to me like a second skin, soaked and heavy. My boots left muddy prints across the wood.

Inside, the house was dim and warm. Candlelight flickered in the corners. The scent of dried herbs and cinnamon lingered like memory.

I shut the door behind me and peeled off my wet hoodie. Thunder rumbled far in the distance now-fading, but not gone.

Ana's voice came from the living room. "There you are."

I stepped in to find her curled in one of the oversized chairs, a thick blanket around her and a mug of tea clutched in her hands. She arched a brow as she took me in-soaked, flushed, wrecked from something deeper than the rain.

"You look like you wrestled a storm."

"Maybe I did," I murmured.

Ana sat up straighter, her sharp eyes scanning me like a diagnostic spell. "It was him, wasn't it?"

I didn't have to say yes.

She knew.

I collapsed onto the couch, my limbs finally admitting they were exhausted. "He was there. On the rooftop. He said... strange things. Things that made me think I've met him before. A long time ago."

Ana set her mug down. "What did you feel?"

"Everything," I said. "Like I was remembering a dream I never had."

A pause.

Ana moved to sit beside me, brushing a damp lock of hair from my cheek. "Scar... you're starting to awaken. Whatever's been buried-it's coming up fast."

I nodded. "And he's part of it."

Her voice dropped. "And he's dangerous."

"So am I."

That made her smile-but only a little.

Just then, Lucia entered, wrapping a shawl over her shoulders. Her expression softened when she saw me. "The rooftop again?"

I blinked. "Again?"

Lucia didn't answer right away. She simply stepped over and placed a hand gently over my heart.

"You're waking up," she said, voice quiet. "And your heart remembers things your mind has forgotten."

She looked me in the eye.

"Trust it."

Lucia's words settled into me like roots, grounding something that had been drifting.

Trust it.

I didn't even know what it was-this pulse inside me, this invisible tether between my past and Alec's-but I knew it was real. Ancient. Maybe even dangerous.

Lucia turned toward the kitchen without another word. The soft clatter of teacups and a kettle lifting onto the stove followed. She didn't press. She never did. She always gave me just enough room to figure things out myself, even when I wished she'd simply spell it all out for me.

Ana sighed beside me, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the throw blanket. "I know you don't want to hear this," she said, "but whatever's happening between you two... it's not just attraction. It's a thread. A bond. Something neither of you fully understands yet."

"I know," I whispered. "It's like he sees through me. But more than that-it's like he's already been inside my world."

Ana nodded slowly. "Maybe he has."

I glanced sideways. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But you're not the only one feeling this shift. I've had dreams lately. Flashes. They don't always make sense, but... sometimes I see you as a child. And him. Only he's older-always older-and protective. Angry, even. And then he disappears."

A chill slid down my spine. I'd had those dreams too.

Only mine weren't dreams. They felt more like stolen pieces of time.

"I don't think they're just visions," I said. "I think... they're memories."

Ana exhaled sharply. "That's what I was afraid of."

We sat in silence for a few beats, the storm now just a hush beyond the windows. The house was too quiet-like it was listening.

"Do you think I knew him before?" I asked. "Back then-before the war?"

Ana looked at me for a long moment. "You were only nine when everything happened. Before that, there were summers at the Manor. You spent them mostly with your father, but sometimes-sometimes you had company. I always thought it was a neighbor's kid."

"But it wasn't," I said slowly.

"No," she confirmed. "I don't think it was."

Lucia reappeared then, a tray balanced in her hands with three mismatched mugs and a small bowl of honey. She set it gently on the coffee table and handed one to me.

"For the storm inside," she said with a wink.

I accepted it gratefully, fingers warming around the ceramic.

Lucia eased into the armchair across from us and took her own mug in hand. "You're both changing," she said quietly. "It's not just the return of magic. It's your blood remembering itself. Your powers. Your lineage."

"I feel like I'm coming apart," I admitted. "Every day, something new is waking up inside me."

Lucia nodded. "That's what it means to be what you are. A tribrid. There's no roadmap for this. You are the first of your kind."

The words sank into my bones.

First. Of. My. Kind.

And Alec... if what I felt from him was real, he wasn't far behind.

Ana leaned forward. "Do you think Alec knows what he is?"

Lucia hesitated. "Not fully. But I suspect his father may have kept things from him. Alec's power... it's not ordinary. And neither is his aura. The bond between you two-it runs deeper than simple magic. It's fated."

My throat tightened. "So what happens now?"

Lucia gave a small, sad smile. "Now? You survive. You learn. You love carefully. And when the time comes... you choose."

"Choose what?"

Her eyes darkened with quiet knowledge. "Whether to follow your heart-or your fate."

⸻--

Later, long after the tea was gone and Ana had gone to bed, I lay in my room listening to the wind settle.

The ceiling above me was painted with shadows.

My skin still remembered the way Alec's fingers brushed my face. My heart still echoed with his voice.

Only when I'm near you.

I didn't know what came next. But I knew the storm had only just begun.

And somehow, Alec and I were already caught in the middle of it.

Together.

Even if we didn't remember why.

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