Chapter 10 : The Stirring
Aria jolted awake with a gasp, her breath sharp and ragged, as if the nightmare had dragged her up from beneath black water. For a moment, she didn’t understand where she was. Her room blurred, the edges pulsing with echoes of smoke and screaming and silver moonlight reflecting off blood-soaked floors. The images—too vivid, too real—clung to her eyes even when she blinked.
She pressed a trembling palm to her forehead.
Just a dream.
It had to be a dream.
Yet her heart thudded against her ribs, far too loud, far too fast. Her sheets were tangled around her legs as though she had been fighting something in her sleep. She forced herself to breathe, pushing down the panic threatening to spill out.
Her dream had been unlike the others. This one felt as if she had lived it—every cry, every clash of claws, the burn of silver light, the crushing grief that belonged to someone else. Someone who had lost everything.
She swallowed hard.
Something was wrong with her.
She could feel it—like her blood was waking up.
A knock at her door made her jump.
“Aria?” Her mother’s warm voice filtered in through the crack. “It’s nearly ten, sweetheart. Are you up?”
Aria quickly pulled herself together. “Y-yeah! I’m awake.”
The doorknob turned slightly but stopped, her mother respecting the boundary. “Breakfast is ready when you are.”
“Coming,” Aria murmured.
She slid out of bed, her legs unsteady. Her bare feet touched the wooden floor—cold, too cold—and she shivered. For a second, she thought she heard something under her breath…a soft, distant howl. She shook her head violently.
Dream residue.
Stress.
Nerves.
She kept repeating the excuses as she got dressed.
Downstairs, her adoptive parents sat at the table, chatting quietly about work and errands. Her father looked up first, smiling, though the smile faltered when he saw her expression.
“Rough night?” he asked gently.
Aria nodded, forcing a small smile. “Just…dreams.”
Her mother’s eyes softened, but there was something else there too—fear? No. Worry. Something deep.
“Maybe you should take a day off,” her father suggested.
“No,” she said too quickly, sitting down. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” Her mother touched her cheek, thumb brushing under her eye. “You’re pale.”
Aria offered the same excuse she always did. “It’s just work. Long hours.”
But deep down, she knew it wasn’t just work. Something had been shifting inside her ever since the night she met Kael. Something old. Something that frightened her in ways she couldn’t explain.
She pushed her food around her plate, barely eating, while snippets of the dream clawed at her mind.
A woman screaming.
A man roaring in agony.
A baby—a baby with silver-flecked eyes.
Her throat tightened.
“Aria?” her mother asked, voice soft. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She hesitated.
For years, her parents had been her constant—kind, steady, loving. But suddenly, there was a voice inside her whispering that there were questions she had never dared to ask.
She swallowed. “Can I…ask you something?”
Her parents exchanged a quick glance. A nervous one.
Her heart dropped.
They knew something.
They always had.
“Go on,” her father said cautiously.
Aria’s voice felt small. “Was I adopted?”
Silence.
Her mother inhaled sharply, her hand freezing mid-gesture. Her father’s jaw clenched.
Aria’s stomach twisted. “I’m not accusing you of anything—I just…need to know.”
Her parents looked at each other again, and this time the look said everything.
Her father exhaled. “Aria…yes. We adopted you.”
Her chest tightened.
Her mother reached for her hand. “We wanted to tell you when the time was right. But we didn’t want you to feel like you were unwanted. You were loved from the moment you arrived.”
“Arrived?” Aria echoed. “Not ‘given’? Not ‘brought’?”
Her parents froze.
Her mother’s eyes glossed with tears. “Aria…no one brought you to us. We found you.”
Aria’s mouth fell open. “Found me?”
Her father nodded slowly. “You were left on our doorstep. Wrapped in blankets. Hours old.”
A tremor ran through her.
A baby alone.
Abandoned.
Or hidden?
“How did I get there?” she whispered.
“We…we don’t know,” her father admitted. “There was a note. Only one line.”
Aria swallowed hard. “What did it say?”
Her mother’s lips trembled as she answered.
“Protect her.”
The words slammed into Aria like a physical blow, setting every nerve in her body alight. Her breath hitched.
A memory—not hers—shimmered behind her eyes: a woman’s hands glowing silver, pushing a cradle into a shield of light.
Her mother squeezed her hand. “We didn’t know what it meant. We still don’t. But we loved you, Aria. That’s all that has ever mattered.”
Aria nodded numbly. Her pulse thundered in her ears. “Can I…see the note?”
Her father hesitated, then rose and left the room. A moment later, he returned, holding a small wooden box with a faded clasp. Aria’s heart pounded as he opened it. Nestled inside was a single strip of aged parchment.
She lifted it carefully.
Just three words.
Written in swirling, ancient handwriting.
Protect the moonborn.
Her breath stopped.
Moonborn.
Her fingers went cold.
Before she could ask anything else, a sharp knock sounded at the front door. Her parents stiffened, exchanging another quick, fearful glance.
Aria frowned. “Who is it?”
Her father didn’t answer. He stood, moving carefully toward the door as if expecting danger. When he opened it, a gust of cold air swept inside.
And standing on the doorstep was Rowan.
Aria blinked. “Rowan? What are you doing—”
But Rowan wasn’t smiling. His usually warm eyes were alert, urgent, scanning the house behind her.
“Aria,” he said quietly, “you need to come with me.”
She stiffened. “What? Why?”
“Because they found you.”
Her mother gasped. “No. Not now—please—”
Rowan stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “We don’t have time. The barrier around this neighbourhood weakened last night. Something broke through.”
“Something?” Aria echoed.
Rowan met her eyes, and his voice dropped to a whisper.
“Shadow Priests.”
The room spun.
Her parents paled with terror. Rowan moved closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
“They’re coming, Aria. Today. They’re coming for you.”
Her heart hammered, panic rising in her throat. “Why me? What do they want?”
He hesitated—too long.
“Rowan,” she whispered, “you’re not telling me something.”
“Because you’re not ready,” he whispered back.
But before she could speak again, the air inside the house went cold—ice cold—and the lights flickered.
A whisper rippled across the walls.
A shadow slipped under the door.
Her mother screamed.
Aria froze.
Rowan’s eyes widened. “Aria—run!”
The shadows surged.
And the world shattered around her.