My daughter

My daughter
Astrid POV

I was still shivering when they wrapped me in Killian’s jacket, the fabric heavy with his warmth. Water dripped from my hair, rolling down my neck, and I clutched the lapels tighter around me. My voice was hoarse when I asked, “What are you even doing here?”

Jason shot Killian a look, then shook his head with a sigh. “I dragged him here. Wanted him to clear his head.”

My brows knit. “Clear his head about what?”

Killian’s jaw flexed. His eyes flickered away, dark and unreadable. “It’s nothing.” Then his gaze snapped back to mine, sharper. “What did you see under there?”

I bit my lip, suddenly too aware of the water still running down my arms, my knees weak. “It’s… it’s not like I saw anything under the water. It felt like—like something was shown to me.” My words tangled, breaking apart as I stuttered. “I—I don’t even understand it.”

Jason’s hand brushed my arm gently. “You should rest, Astrid. We’ll talk to the headmaster if you want.”

“No,” I blurted quickly, shaking my head. “It’s fine. Really. It’s not needed.”

My chest ached with the weight of it all, too heavy to explain. I turned away, pulling the jacket tighter. “I just… I need to rest.”

They let me go. Neither tried to stop me as I gathered my clothes, pulling them on with trembling hands before walking away from the spring. I didn’t look back.

When I reached my dorm, Dove was cross-legged on the floor, brush in hand, a half-finished painting glowing in the lamplight. She looked up immediately, her sharp eyes catching everything in a heartbeat. “What’s wrong?”

Something in me cracked at her tone. I dropped onto the bed, running a hand through my damp hair. “I don’t know if I’m going crazy or not, Dove… but something’s happening. I know it.”

She set the brush aside, her paint-stained fingers wiping against her pants before she came to sit beside me. She reached for a towel, gently wrapping it around my shoulders. Her touch grounded me.

I swallowed, words spilling before I could stop them. “It’s like—I was just trying to relax in the spring, to clear my head. But then I was… pulled. Taken somewhere. I don’t know if it was the past or the future, but it felt real.” My hands twisted in the towel. “Too real.”

Dove didn’t interrupt. She just listened, her eyes soft, patient.

“There was this man,” I whispered, my pulse quickening. “I’ve been seeing him… even here. At the academy. A hooded figure. I—I thought I imagined it, but today I saw him again. In the hallway. And underwater… when I slipped into that other dimension… he was there, too.”

My throat closed up. My chest burned with the fear that maybe I was losing myself. “I’m not hallucinating, Dove. I saw him. I keep seeing him.”

“Can you tell what he looks like?” she asked quietly.

I shook my head, frustration pricking at my eyes. “No. He never turns around. He’s always just—there. Watching.”

Dove was silent for a long moment, then she exhaled and placed her hand over mine. “Astrid, I believe you. Whatever this is, it isn’t in your head. You’ll get answers soon. I promise.”

Something in her certainty eased the panic clawing at me.

“But for now,” she added softly, “you need to eat. You can’t face visions on an empty stomach.”

A small, broken laugh slipped from me. I leaned into her shoulder, the towel still clutched tight. “Maybe you’re right.”

But deep inside, I knew food wouldn’t stop the shadow that was following me. And next time, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to come back.

DAYS LATER

Nothing changed, same seeing figures in the hallway and like I am the only one seeing it. So frustrating, all of my friends knows of what is going on now and the headmaster said I should hold on a little longer for a voice or conversation with this figure I am seeing.

Dove crunched on another chip, brushing the crumbs off her pajama top before shoving the bag into my hands. “Eat. You’re too restless to just lie there.”

I popped one in my mouth, more to shut her up than because I was hungry. The salt clung to my lips, and I licked it away with a sigh. “We’ve searched for answers everywhere—books, scrolls, even the headmaster’s dusty old archives. Nothing. Not one thing about a hooded stalker who just happens to like tormenting me.”

Dove smirked. “Maybe he’s just obsessed with you.”

I shot her a look. “That’s not funny.”

“Fine, fine.” She leaned back against the pillows, stretching her arms over her head. “Still, the headmaster’s right. You need rest. Next time you see him, maybe you’ll finally get a conversation, a face, something useful. Until then? Sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah…” I mumbled, shoving the half-empty bag onto the nightstand. My eyes burned with exhaustion, though my chest still thrummed with unease. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” Dove muttered, pulling the blanket over me before flicking off the lamp. “Now shut up and sleep.”

I closed my eyes.

Sleep took me fast—too fast.

One moment, I was curled under my blanket. The next, I stood in a vast hall swallowed by darkness. The air stank of smoke and brimstone, curling into my lungs. Before me rose a throne—dark, jagged, alive with a sinister pulse. And on it, draped in fire and shadow, sat him.

His back was to me, cloaked, the flames licking at the edges of his form.

“Oh, great,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “It’s you again. Do you have, like, a hobby other than popping into my head uninvited? Maybe knitting? Crocheting? Anything?”

The figure didn’t move, only sat with an aura of power so suffocating it pressed against my skin.

I groaned. “Seriously? You drag me into some hell dimension just to give me your back? At least have the decency to face me if you’re going to haunt me.”

A low, rumbling chuckle spilled from the throne, curling through the dark like smoke. My sass faltered just a little, but I tilted my chin stubbornly. “Glad I amuse you. Now tell me—why me? Why keep showing up? What do you want?”

Finally, he spoke, his voice deep, guttural, resonating in my bones. “You will understand soon. you're all grown.”

My fists clenched at my sides. “That’s not an answer. You’ve been stalking me for weeks, whispering in my dreams, making me feel like I’m losing my damn mind—”

“You are not losing your mind.” The shadows shifted as if leaning forward. “You are waking.”

My stomach twisted. “Waking to what?”

The silence stretched, heavy and unbearable. Then—

“My daughter. All grown up to be strong.”

The words hit me like a dagger to the chest.

I froze. My heart thudded in my ears. “…What?”

The figure still didn’t turn. Still shrouded in flame and shadow.

But the word lingered, echoing louder than the fire itself.

Daughter.