Kael moved through the shadows, his steps light and cautious. The slums were eerily silent in the aftermath of the chaos. His body still felt the heat from the fight, and his veins were still buzzing with energy, but something else stirred deep within him—something he couldn't control.
The moment he'd left the wreckage of the street fight, the strange sensation in his chest hadn't abated. His breath hitched as he glanced over his shoulder, feeling the weight of invisible eyes on him. The air felt charged, like static before a storm.
He pressed his back against a crumbling wall, keeping to the dark alleyways, avoiding the main roads where the enforcers would be out in full force. They wouldn't care that he wasn't responsible for the damage, they would blame him anyway. And he wasn't ready to face their wrath. Not when he still couldn't understand what was happening to him.
The sensation in his chest flared again, like a heartbeat not his own, thrumming louder in his ears. He stumbled, gripping his head, his vision flickering.
Whispering.
He froze.
It was faint at first, a voice that was too low, too ancient, to belong to any person. It wasn't a voice he recognized, but it was as clear as if it were speaking directly into his mind.
We… are the crimson thread. You… are the heir.
His heart skipped a beat. A chill ran down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn't just a voice. It felt like something was pushing into his skull, trying to take root in his mind.
His breath hitched as the voice continued, the whispers growing stronger, though no one else was around.
The bloodline calls. The crimson vein awakens. Come… to the heart.
Kael gasped and shook his head. The pulsing in his veins grew, spreading through his limbs like fire, until it centered in his chest. The voice seemed to be in tune with the beat of his heart, and it was… familiar.
It felt like it was his heart. Like it had always been there. Like he was meant to hear it.
The pulse surged again, and this time, it was almost unbearable. Kael stumbled forward, his hand pressed against his chest, trying to steady himself. The vision of the figure on the rooftop flickered through his mind, but it was as if he couldn't remember if it had really happened. His body was reacting like it was connected to something much older—something dangerous.
The whispers died down for a moment, leaving only the faint pulse echoing in his mind.
Then, a crash broke the silence.
Voices. Footsteps. Coming closer.
The enforcers were arriving, drawn by the bloodshed. Kael's heart raced, his pulse hammering in his ears. He had no choice but to hide. If they found him, they would definitely blame him. No one would believe him when he said it wasn't his fault. Not when the destruction had been this severe.
Kael darted into the nearest building—an abandoned warehouse, its walls cracked and crumbling. It had been looted long ago, its contents stripped away, leaving only dust and debris. He crouched behind a stack of rusted metal pipes, hoping the shadows would be enough to conceal him. His breath was shallow, his chest still tight from the pulse. It was all he could do to stay still.
Through the narrow cracks in the walls, Kael saw a squad of enforcers approaching the street. They were heavily armored, their helmets gleaming even in the low light, their weapons drawn. They fanned out, scanning the area for signs of trouble. They hadn't seen him yet, but they were too close for comfort.
His pulse quickened again, and Kael winced, trying to steady his breath. The whispers returned, this time louder and more insistent.
It is in your blood. The crimson vein calls to you. You are not like them. You… are the last.
Kael's hands trembled as he pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to block out the voice. What do you mean? he thought, almost desperately. Who are you?
But the voice didn't answer him directly. It just pulsed, growing stronger, more insistent, as if it was waiting for him to understand.
Kael swallowed hard, his head swimming with the pressure of the words and the sound of approaching enforcers. He needed to move. He couldn't stay here. Not when they were so close.
As silently as he could, he crouched low and slipped past the stack of pipes, moving deeper into the warehouse. He had to get out of sight, but every step felt like a battle against the invisible weight pressing down on him.
The voice was still there, thrumming in his head, pushing him forward, urging him to go somewhere. Somewhere important.
And then, Kael felt something—a shift—in his chest. The pulse grew, as though it was no longer just a heartbeat. It felt like a signal. A beacon. And as if in response, something deep inside his bloodline stirred.
The vision hit him in a flash.
A grand hall, ancient and covered in blood-red vines. The air was thick with power, and at the center, a throne sat empty—waiting. A golden crown rested atop it, bathed in an eerie crimson light. But there was no one sitting in it.
You must claim your birthright.
Kael gasped, his hand clutching at his chest as the vision faded.
But in its wake, the pulse remained. His heartbeat thudded like a war drum in his ears.
He could hear it now—a second pulse, like a second heart.
And it was not his own.
The enforcers were nearly upon him, their voices rising in a low murmur. Kael moved instinctively, pulling himself behind an old, rusted storage crate. He crouched down, his back against the cold metal, praying they wouldn't find him.
He listened as their boots clanged against the warehouse floor, their voices cutting through the silence.
"Nothing here. The destruction looks too widespread to be just a street fight. Something… something else caused this."
"That's the third one this month," another voice said. "First the east side, then the market. Now here. We've got a bloodline warlord moving in. Can't risk another explosion like that. Keep your eyes peeled."
Kael froze, every muscle in his body tensing. He hadn't been wrong. They were looking for something. Or someone.
The whispers in his mind began to rise again, urging him forward.
Find the heart…
And in that moment, Kael understood. He wasn't just running from the enforcers anymore. He was running from something much deeper—a legacy buried in blood, a power older than anything he could imagine.
The enforcers moved on, their footsteps growing fainter. Kael waited, breathing heavily, his heart still racing. The second pulse in his chest wasn't going away. It felt like an anchor, like it was pulling him toward something he couldn't explain.
He stood slowly, rubbing his temples. The figure on the rooftop. The whispers. The visions.
Something was awakening in him. Something he couldn't control.
And it scared him. But more than that—it called to him.