Heirs Of A Burned Soul

Raven Hale woke to a pain she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t sharp, exactly, nor dull—it was a deep, insistent pressure in the center of her chest, as if something were pressing against her heart from the inside. Her eyes snapped open, and the early morning light of her small apartment fell across the cracked ceiling. She sat up slowly, gripping the edge of her bed. The pain pulsed like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers, steady and demanding. Her breathing quickened. For a moment, she thought it was just anxiety, or maybe some leftover tension from the nightmares that had haunted her every night for the past month. But it was different this time. It wasn’t mental. It was alive. Her fingers traced the shape of her chest, and a strange warmth spread beneath her skin. It climbed from the center outward, tingling and prickling like tiny sparks were dancing under her ribcage. Raven’s stomach turned. She swallowed hard. “What the hell…” she muttered. The clock on her nightstand ticked loudly. 3:11 a.m. The number felt wrong. It had always felt wrong, even before the pain began. She shook her head, trying to push the sensation away. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was her body finally breaking down from sleepless nights and a diet that consisted mostly of coffee and stale bread. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Raven swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pressed her palms to her knees. The warmth had intensified, and now it wasn’t just her chest—it radiated outward, up to her throat, down to her stomach, and even into her arms. She tried to breathe, but each inhalation felt heavier than the last, as if her lungs were filled with molten metal. Her vision blurred. She stumbled to the window and pressed her palms against the cool glass, staring out into the empty street below. The city was quiet at this hour, shadows stretching across abandoned cars and flickering streetlights. Everything seemed normal. And yet, Raven felt as if the world had shifted, as if some invisible weight now pressed against the edges of her reality. Then she saw it—a faint flicker in the alley below. A shadow that moved against the light. Not like a person, not like any animal she had ever seen. Just a shape, hovering, watching. Her heart skipped, then raced. But it wasn’t her heart—it was something else. Something inside her, vibrating, demanding. Raven’s hand shot to her wrist. That’s when she noticed the faint glow. A thin line, almost imperceptible, traced itself across the inner side of her forearm. She gasped. The glow pulsed in time with the pain in her chest, brightening, dimming, synchronizing with her ragged breaths. “What… is happening to me?” she whispered, panic rising in her throat. Her apartment felt suddenly too small, too suffocating. The walls seemed to lean closer, pressing against her, closing her in. Raven backed away from the window, only to feel the warmth intensify. She sank to the floor, curling into herself, gripping the glowing mark as if she could stop it from consuming her. A shiver ran through her. The pain became sharper, a fire that burned from within. Her vision darkened at the edges, and for a moment, she felt disconnected from her own body. And then she heard it—a faint whisper, almost inaudible, echoing inside her mind. “Raven…” Her eyes widened. She spun around, but the apartment was empty. Her breaths came in short gasps. “Who’s there?” she demanded, voice trembling. No answer came, only the persistent thrum of the fire inside her chest. It was getting stronger, pulsing in sync with the glowing mark on her wrist. She felt dizzy, weak, as if standing any longer would topple her to the floor. Her knees buckled, and she sank, clutching her chest. For the first time in her life, Raven felt truly, utterly vulnerable. Not because someone was threatening her from outside, but because something inside was breaking her down from within. Tears prickled her eyes. She didn’t know if she was afraid or angry or… something else entirely. Something primal, deep, and urgent. The whisper came again. “Raven…” This time it was louder, more insistent, as if calling her name had a weight behind it that pressed against her mind. She tried to shake it off, but it wouldn’t stop. Her chest burned hotter, her vision blurred, and the glow along her wrist expanded. She scrambled to the window again, peering down at the street. The shadow was gone. And yet, she knew she hadn’t imagined it. She could feel it. The presence—watching, waiting, drawing her out into the night. Raven’s hand trembled as she touched the mark again. The warmth was searing now, and for a brief moment, she felt an involuntary pull toward something… someone. Something she didn’t understand. Something dangerous. A sudden rush of dizziness made her collapse fully onto the floor. She curled into herself, pressing her hands to her chest and whispering into the quiet room: “Please… please… not yet…” Her voice was weak, almost swallowed by the silence, but the pain didn’t stop. The pulse inside her chest became a living thing, and the whisper—now clear and urgent—called her again: “Raven…” The sound made her shiver uncontrollably. Something deep inside her stirred. A part of her she had never known existed. She didn’t know if it was fear or desire or pain—or some strange combination of all three—but it made her ache in ways she couldn’t describe. Raven Hale had lived eighteen years thinking she was ordinary. That night, she realized she had been wrong. Something inside her had awakened. Something powerful. Something that could not be ignored. And as the storm outside began to howl, as the shadows outside moved closer, Raven knew one undeniable truth: Her life had changed forever. Something had chosen her. And whatever it was… it had already begun.