Chapter 3: The Gathering Storm

The wind howled through the cracks in the walls, sending chills racing down Zeryn’s spine. The whispers were gone, but their echo lingered, clawing at the edges of her mind. Her aunt moved quickly, lighting another lantern with practiced ease, though her hands trembled.

“Elara,” Zeryn began, her voice unsteady, “what’s happening? What am I?”

Her aunt didn’t answer right away. Instead, she drew a chair closer to the fire, gesturing for Zeryn to sit. The old woman’s expression was grave, her sharp eyes glinting in the flickering light.

“You were born into a world that fears what it doesn’t understand,” Elara said, her voice low and steady. “The Eclipseborn have always been hunted, for their power is both a gift and a curse. The mark you bear is a sign of that power—power that others will do anything to control.”

Zeryn stared at her aunt, trying to make sense of her words. “You’re saying I have some… some kind of magic? That’s impossible. I’ve never—”

“You’ve never let yourself see it,” Elara interrupted, her tone sharp. “But it’s there. It’s always been there. Haven’t you ever wondered why the shadows seem to follow you? Why the night feels alive when you’re afraid?”

Zeryn’s breath hitched. She had wondered. As a child, she’d sworn she could hear the darkness whispering to her, moving like a living thing. She had buried those memories, dismissing them as childish fears.

“Even if that’s true,” Zeryn said, her voice rising, “what does it matter? I don’t want this. I never asked for it.”

Her aunt leaned forward, her expression softening. “None of us ask for the lives we’re given, Zeryn. But the mark chose you. And now, the world will come for you.”

Before Zeryn could respond, a loud knock shattered the tense silence.

Three sharp raps.

Elara froze, her face paling. “They’ve found you,” she whispered.

“Who?” Zeryn asked, her heart pounding.

“Elara Kaelith!” A deep voice boomed from outside, sending a jolt of fear through Zeryn. “We know you’re harboring the girl. Open the door, and no harm will come to you.”

Zeryn’s blood ran cold. The voice was calm, almost polite, but there was a weight behind it—a promise of violence if the demand wasn’t met.

Elara moved quickly, grabbing a small pouch from the shelf and thrusting it into Zeryn’s hands. “You have to leave. Now.”

“What?” Zeryn stared at her, stunned. “I can’t just leave you here!”

“There’s no time to argue,” Elara snapped, pulling Zeryn toward the back door. “They won’t stop until they have you. Go to the forest. Follow the northern path until you reach the old stone bridge. There’s someone there who can help you.”

Zeryn hesitated, her instincts warring with her fear. “But—”

“Go!” Elara pushed her toward the door, her voice breaking. “Run, Zeryn. Don’t look back.”

The sound of wood splintering filled the air as the front door burst open. Zeryn caught a glimpse of figures in dark cloaks, their faces obscured, before Elara shoved her out into the night.

The cold hit her like a slap, and for a moment, she stood frozen, her breath fogging in the air. Then the urgency of her aunt’s words sank in, and she ran.

The forest loomed ahead, its twisted branches clawing at the sky like jagged fingers. Zeryn plunged into the darkness, her feet pounding against the uneven ground. The shadows seemed to press closer, wrapping around her like a living thing.

Behind her, she could hear the shouts of her pursuers, their voices growing louder. Fear clawed at her throat, but something else stirred within her—a flicker of defiance, a spark of something deeper.

The whispers returned, softer this time, almost soothing.

Let me in, Zeryn. Let me help.

Her steps faltered. The voice was the same one she had heard in the village square, but now it felt different. Less ominous, more… familiar.

“No,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re not real.”

I am as real as the darkness in your heart, the voice replied, calm and unyielding. You cannot outrun what you are.

Zeryn stumbled, her hand brushing against the trunk of a tree to steady herself. The shadows around her seemed to ripple, shifting like waves on a black sea.

“Zeryn!” One of the pursuers shouted, closer now. “Stop running, and we’ll make this easy for you.”

She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. The fear was still there, but beneath it, something else stirred—anger. Anger at the figure who had taunted her, at the strangers chasing her, at a world that refused to let her be.

The shadows responded. They surged around her, coiling like serpents, and for the first time, she felt them as more than a presence. She felt them as power.

“Stay back!” Zeryn shouted, her voice trembling but fierce.

The shadows obeyed. They lashed out, forming a barrier of darkness that pulsed with energy, forcing her pursuers to halt.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, one of the figures stepped forward, his voice calm and steady.

“Very good,” he said. “The darkness within you has awakened.”