Burn Marks & Blood memory
The apartment felt… off.
Rae was on the couch, still in yesterday's clothes, one sock gone. Coffee in her hands, but she hadn't touched it. Cold now.
Her shoulder ached
The door stayed shut. She still couldn't stop checking it.
The man. His voice.
He looked at her like he knew something she hadn't figured out yet. And not like he meant her harm… just that he wouldn't step in if it found her.
She could still see his face. That calm. That certainty.
The lock hadn't been broken. The chain still worked. And yet, somehow, she felt invaded.
Her eyes moved to the window.
Ash.
There was black dust on the window ledge. Smudged—almost like someone had pressed their hands there.
She leaned closer. The metal rail on the fire escape? Warped. Burnt at the edge. Like heat had hit it hard, but no one had said a word.
She hadn't dreamed it. She knew that much.
Nova shifted under the blanket, coughing again. It was that same dry sound—deep, too deep for her size. Rae glanced over. She hadn't meant to wake her.
"You didn't sleep," Nova rasped.
"Couldn't," Rae said.
Nova blinked at her. "Is it happening again?"
That question made Rae's blood go cold.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she went to the kitchen. Tried to eat a piece of toast. Took one bite and gagged.
She tried eating. Just toast. One bite in, her stomach flipped.
The smell hit her wrong—like something had already gone bad.
She stared down at the bruises again. Shoulder. Hip. Too round, too perfect. Not from a fall.
Needle marks.
She touched the mark burned into her skin. It pulsed.
Her phone buzzed.
Blocked number. One new text.
"Be outside in 10. Bring your sister. Don't lock the door behind you."
Rae stood there, staring. Her heart thundered.
She could run.
Grab Nova. Go to a motel. Disappear again like she had when they left their last city. But she was tired. Of running. Of guessing. Of pretending the weirdness around her wasn't real.
Her fingers moved before her brain caught up.
She started to pack.
⸻
Nova sat on the bed, still pale, still coughing. Watching Rae with those tired eyes that always seemed to see more than she let on.
"You're leaving me," Nova said softly.
"I'm taking you with me."
"Same thing."
Rae paused. "This time it's different."
Nova tilted her head. "You always say that."
Rae didn't respond. She threw the pills in, didn't bother sorting them. Yanked the zipper closed, shoved the backpack on like she was running late for something she didn't want to go to.
She helped Nova into her hoodie. Laced up her shoes.
Ten minutes passed. No knock.
Just the sound of a car engine, low and steady outside the window.
⸻
The man was waiting by the black SUV. Same coat. Same stillness.
Caelum.
Rae opened the building door before he could look up.
"We're coming," she said. "But you talk this time. All the way there."
He nodded once, and said nothing else.
⸻
The ride felt longer than it should've been.
Rae watched the buildings thin out. Concrete turned to grass, grass to woods. Her phone had no signal. No GPS.
Not even a clock on the dash. Just the road.
Nova had curled up in the back, her head pressed against the glass.
Rae sat in front, arms folded, teeth grinding.
"I didn't walk through my door," she muttered. "So how the hell did I get inside?"
Caelum kept his eyes on the road. "You were dropped off."
"By who?"
"Doesn't matter now."
"The hell it doesn't." Her voice cracked. "Someone drugged me. Did something to me. You want me to trust you? Start talking."
"You were chosen."
didn't volunteer."
"That's not—"
"Don't give me that 'how it works' crap. I was drugged."
"No," he said simply. "It's older than that."
Rae stared at him. "Was it real? The insemination?"
He didn't blink. "Yes."
"And the child?"
"The child is real. And dangerous. To you. To everyone. But especially to those who want it stopped."
She swallowed hard. Her shoulder still burned under the fabric. "You said I was bonded."
"To the child, yes."
"Not to you?"
He hesitated. That pause said more than anything.
She scoffed. "Right."
⸻
They crossed into Moonvale just before dark.
The trees grew thick and twisted. The air changed—colder, heavier.
The gate ahead opened on its own. No motion sensor. No buzzer. Just a groan of old iron giving way.
Rae didn't say a word. Nova was asleep again. Caelum parked beside a giant old house that looked like it had been ignoring the sun for a decade.
The second Rae stepped inside, the floor moaned. Paint peeled near the corners. The lights flickered like they weren't sure they'd stay on.
Then a woman showed up in the hall. Didn't say a word. Just stared.
A woman appeared in the hallway. Pale. Hair pulled tight. She gave Rae a once-over and turned without a word. Led them upstairs.
Nova's room was small but warm. The bed already made. Water on the nightstand.
Rae's room was colder. Sparse. Curtains nailed to the frame. A mirror above the dresser that she didn't trust.
Caelum lingered in the doorway.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight," he said.
She crossed her arms. "I'm not scared of you."
"I know."
She stepped toward him. "Then what are you afraid of?"
His jaw twitched. "The prophecy."
"Tell me."
He leaned against the doorframe, eyes dark. "There was a vision. A blood moon. A child born between two cursed lines. One with power to break the curse—or end everything. That child was supposed to be born from a union. But the union never happened. So someone tried to cheat fate."
"By using me."
He nodded once. "You were the vessel."
"You keep saying 'were,'" she said. "But it's still in me."
His silence was confirmation.
She laughed, but it didn't sound right. "You knew. You let it happen."
"I tried to stop it."
"Not hard enough."
She slammed the door in his face.
⸻
That night, she didn't sleep.
The ceiling creaked. The mark on her shoulder burned. Something inside her moved—not a kick. Not cramps.
It felt like… attention.
Like she wasn't alone in her body.
At 2:11 a.m., she heard it.
Whispered. Not loud. But close.
Not her name.
Not Raelle.
Something older. A name she didn't recognize but somehow knew was hers.
She stood and walked to the mirror. It didn't flicker. Her reflection was normal.
But when she touched the glass, the mark on her shoulder pulsed. Hard. Like a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
⸻
In the morning, Caelum was gone.
Nova was pale. Her cough worse.
Rae wandered the hallway. The house was silent. Too silent.
She passed a side table with a dusty vase on it. Something was sticking out from behind.
A journal.
Leather-bound. Unlabeled.
She flipped it open.
The first page was a scrawl, like the pen had been shaking.
They said I'd only have to carry it. But I can feel it changing me.
Rae turned the page. Her hands were cold.