Chapter 5 : The Pulse Beneath the Skin
Morning light spilled across the kitchen tiles, the warmth doing little to ease the chill clinging to Aria’s spine. Her parents were seated at the breakfast table — her mother humming softly over the kettle, her father half-buried behind the newspaper. They looked so normal, so ordinary, that for a moment she almost convinced herself the past few weeks had been a fever dream. The whispers, the silver flashes in her vision, the sensation of someone watching her — all of it had to be exhaustion.
Yet as she reached for her cup, her hand trembled.
Her mother noticed. “You look pale, darling. Did you sleep at all last night?”
Aria forced a smile. “Just a bad dream.”
She didn’t add that the dream hadn’t felt like one — that she’d been standing under a blood-red sky, the air thick with the metallic scent of rain and something older. That a voice — low, resonant, and painfully familiar — had whispered her name like a vow and a warning.
Aria.
It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it in her sleep. But this time, it had come with the sound of a heartbeat — not hers, but someone else’s, pounding inside her chest as if the rhythm belonged to both of them.
Her mother reached over, squeezing her hand gently. “Maybe take a day off work. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”
“I can’t. Cassian’s finalising the partnership proposal today. He’ll kill me if I’m late.”
Her father chuckled behind his paper. “That man would never raise his voice at you. He probably worries more about you than we do.”
Aria smiled at that — but something in her mother’s eyes made her pause. The look was too knowing, too quickly concealed.
Cassian’s office was quiet when she arrived, the scent of cedar and old paper filling the air. The man himself stood by the window, sleeves rolled up, sunlight catching the faint scars that traced his forearm — thin lines that almost shimmered like faded runes.
He turned when she entered, a small smile curving his lips. “You’re early.”
“I needed a distraction,” Aria said, dropping her bag on the chair. “Dreams again.”
Cassian’s gaze sharpened, the faintest crease forming between his brows. “The same ones?”
She hesitated. Cassian had always been easy to talk to, but there were boundaries — unspoken ones. Still, something in his tone made her answer truthfully.
“They’re… getting stronger. It’s like I’m there — in another place. The air feels alive. And there’s someone calling me. Every time I wake up, I can still hear him.”
Cassian’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Do you recognise the voice?”
“No. But it feels like I should.”
He moved closer, his steps measured. “Aria… if your dreams ever feel too real, promise me you’ll tell me immediately.”
“Too real?” She gave a nervous laugh. “What does that even mean?”
“It means there are things that live between waking and dreaming — echoes of places our minds aren’t meant to reach.”
She blinked. “You sound like you actually believe that.”
His expression softened. “Let’s just say I’ve seen enough to know not everything stays buried.”
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, expression darkening briefly. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping out.
Aria exhaled, rubbing her temples. Between the strange tension with her parents and Cassian’s cryptic mood, she felt like she was walking through fog.
That’s when the lights flickered.
Once. Twice.
Then the air shifted — not colder, but heavier, as if the world had drawn a breath and held it. A faint hum began, somewhere beneath her skin. It pulsed in time with her heartbeat, a warmth spreading from her chest to her fingertips. The papers on Cassian’s desk trembled.
“Aria?”
His voice came from the doorway — but when she turned, she saw him frozen mid-step, eyes wide.
The coffee mug beside her cracked clean down the middle. A shimmering thread of light coiled out of it, curling like smoke. Aria gasped as the glow snaked up her wrist — not burning, but marking.
Cassian was suddenly beside her, his hand gripping hers. “Breathe. Don’t fight it.”
“What—what is this?”
“Not now. Just focus.” His voice was firm but urgent.
The light pulsed once more, then flickered out. The hum faded. Aria collapsed against him, her heart thundering. When she looked down, faint silvery veins glimmered under her skin before disappearing completely.
Cassian exhaled slowly, his hand still steadying her shoulder. “You need to be careful. You’re close to something awakening.”
Aria’s voice trembled. “What’s happening to me, Cass?”
For a heartbeat, he looked like he might tell her. His gaze softened with something close to guilt — but then he forced a small, reassuring smile. “It’s just stress. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep.”
She almost laughed, except her chest still burned where the light had touched her.
“Right,” she murmured. “Stress.”
That night, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.
She stood by her bedroom window, looking out at the city lights. Everything seemed ordinary — cars, rain, the faint hum of the streetlamps — yet there was something in the darkness that made her skin crawl.
Then she saw it.
A shadow, standing beneath the streetlight across the road.
Tall. Motionless. Watching her.
Her breath caught.
The moment she blinked, it was gone — but the air shimmered faintly, like heat above asphalt. A heartbeat later, a whisper echoed in her mind, low and unmistakable.
You shouldn’t be alone tonight.
Her knees nearly gave way. It wasn’t just in her head — the voice came from everywhere and nowhere, deep and resonant.
Who are you? she thought wildly, though she didn’t speak aloud.
Silence. Then a breath — warm against her ear, as if someone stood right behind her.
You already know.
She spun around — the room was empty.
Her heart hammered as the lights flickered again. In the mirror, for a split second, she saw her reflection — eyes glowing faintly silver.
Then, outside, a low growl rumbled through the night. Not human. Not possible.
She ran to the window, just in time to see something huge moving between the trees beyond the streetlight — sleek, dark, and impossibly fast. Her pulse roared in her ears.
Another whisper brushed through her mind.
Run, Aria.
The windowpane shattered inward.
Glass exploded around her as a massive black shape crashed through, eyes burning with silver fire. Aria screamed, stumbling back—
And a second shape collided with it mid-air, claws meeting claws, a blur of violence and moonlight.
She fell hard, breath ripped from her lungs, as the two figures crashed through her room. For a split second, she saw him — Kael — eyes wild, chest heaving, blood at the corner of his mouth.
“Get down!” he roared, voice echoing with something not entirely human.
Her heart stopped.
He shouldn’t have known where she lived. He shouldn’t even exist in this world.
But as the creature lunged for her again, Kael turned — his body moving faster than thought, a snarl tearing from his throat.
And that’s when she saw it: the mark glowing on his arm — the same silver light that had burned beneath her skin hours earlier.
It pulsed in perfect rhythm with her heartbeat.