Elian dreamt of crows.
Their wings thundered like ancient war drums against a sky choked with ash, each beat a herald of something lost. In her dream, she stood alone in a vast, desolate field where the world had been bled of colour grass like bone dust, trees etched in charcoal, even her own hands pale as ghosts. Above, the crows wheeled in slow, solemn arcs until, one by one, they dropped not wounded, but pulled by invisible threads, as if the earth itself was calling them back to silence.
She woke with a gasp.
The dormitory ceiling loomed pale above her, a canvas etched with restless shadows spilled from the moon. She rose slowly, the stillness around her broken only by the steady, solitary drum of her heartbeat.
Across the room, Diana stirred. "Bad dream?"
Elian hesitated. "Yeah, a weird one."
"Sorry". Diana said, her words trailed off as she turned away, abandoning the conversation
Elian's gaze drifted out the window, where the moon hung like a fading whisper in the night sky. She wrapped herself in the blanket's fragile warmth, but as she lay back down, sleep evaded her, chased away by the haunting echo that now resonated deep within.
Something was coming, she could feel it.
Time lost all meaning as Elian floated through her classes, her mind lingering elsewhere, like a shadow detached from its source.
Calista noticed something was off with her, she didn't approach her immediately, rather she kept an eye on her.
After the third class, Calista waited for her by the lockers.
"You okay?" she asked, with a concerned voice. "While we were in class earlier, you seemed lost in thoughts."
Elian smiled politely. "I'm okay, I just didn't get enough sleep last night."
Calista tilted her head. "Nightmares?"
Elian's fingers froze on the lock. "Something like that." She said with an ending tone, not wanting to take the conversation further..
Calista asked no more. She simply stood at Elian's side silent, but present not intruding, not seeking, just there.
And somehow, that made Elian feel relieved.
Later that day, beneath the soft hush of rustling leaves and distant chatter, Calista sat calmly beside Elian in the courtyard, amidst the bustle around them.
"You ever feel like something or someone is following you?" Elian asked suddenly.
Calista nodded. "Yes, all the time."
Elian's brow furrowed. "Seriously?"
Calista nodded again tapping the end of her pencil against her notebook. "My family moves around a lot. I always felt eyes on me, like I didn't belong."
Elian looked at her for a while. "And did you?"
"No," Calista said simply. "But that didn't mean I wasn't meant to be there."
Elian wasn't sure how to respond to that.
She returned her gaze to the pages in front of her. A scribbled set of notes, half-legible. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for her pen. The whispers were louder today, they were just at the edge of her hearing. Not words exactly. More like memory threatening to surface.
She closed her eyes.
It was happening again.
***********
In the upper floors of a forgotten chapel outside the city converted now into an encrypted command post. Thorne scanned satellite feeds and grainy security footage."
"She's clean," he said into the comms. "No unusual movement, no triggers, and no
contact with the order."
"She's not clean," Damian's voice returned through the encrypted line. "She's simply waiting."
Thorne sighed. "You keep saying that. What could she possibly be waiting for, that's taking too long?."
"Patience, is what we need." Damian replied coolly.
"Yes. Patience." Thorne muttered.
"And ensure no mistakes are made." Damian added.
Thorne leaned back. "Yes my lord, but the Order is still watching. They're quieter, but they haven't retreated. They're waiting for the next flare."
"It won't come from me," Damian said.
Thorne paused. "Then from her?"
A silence stretched.
"Everything awakens in its time," Damian said eventually. "Even gods."
Calista's update came late that night.
"She's growing quiet again," she said over the secure line. "Like something's shifting under the surface. She's drawing away."
"Do not pull her back," Damian warned. "Let her choose her descent."
"She's already descending," Calista said. "She just doesn't know what she's reaching for."
Damian stared out across the city, his reflection faint in the rain-warped glass. Thunder murmured in the distance, low and foreboding.
"She doesn't need to know yet," he said softly. "Only that she's not alone."
"And when the time comes?" Calista asked.
Damian turned away from the window. "Then she will remember what she is. And nothing will stop her."
He cut the line.
*********
Elian sat alone in the school chapel the next morning, the old wood pews creaking beneath her as if sighing under centuries of weight.
She didn't pray.
She didn't know how do that anymore.
But she sat there in silence, hands folded, listening. And beneath the quiet, deeper than her heartbeat, she swore she could feel something calling to her. A rhythm that wasn't hers, but echoed through her anyway.
She pressed a palm to her chest.
It was still there.
That whisper.
And behind it, a name.
A name she hadn't spoken aloud in three months.
Damian.
Elian stood slowly, heart heavy.
It had begun again....