Heirs Of A Burned Soul

Chapter 2 — Nightmares of the Man with Burning Eyes

Raven lay in her bed, eyes wide open, staring at the cracked ceiling above. The rain from last night had stopped, leaving the city damp and quiet, but sleep would not come. Her chest still ached, a dull, insistent pressure reminding her that whatever had begun yesterday was far from over.

Every time she tried to blink away the lingering pain, flashes of her dreams from the previous night returned—images that burned themselves into her mind. The man. His eyes. Burning like molten gold, glowing through the shadows. She didn’t know his name, hadn’t met him in any conscious sense, but he had appeared repeatedly in her sleep, always watching, always present, his gaze impossibly intense.

She rolled onto her side, hugging her knees, but the ache in her chest refused to let her rest. It wasn’t just pain; it was a signal, an unspoken warning from something buried deep inside her. Every heartbeat seemed to echo in her mind, and each echo whispered his name. Not aloud—inside her, between her ribs, in the secret space where fear and fascination collided.

Raven shivered, pulling the thin blanket tighter around herself. She felt exposed, fragile, and strangely… vulnerable. It wasn’t only the nightmares. Something else had changed. Something that had been asleep inside her all these years had stirred. She could feel it—a quiet, humming presence that wasn’t her own, a pulse that thrummed in tandem with her own heartbeat.

And then she saw him.

Not in the waking world, but behind her closed eyelids.

The shadows of her room stretched unnaturally, and there he stood, framed in darkness yet illuminated by eyes that burned like molten gold. The air around him seemed alive, vibrating with energy she couldn’t name. She wanted to move, to scream, but her body was frozen, trapped in the impossible gravity of his gaze.

“You’re awake,” he said softly. His voice was deep, calm, and oddly familiar, though she had never heard it before. “You shouldn’t be. You should be sleeping. Yet here you are.”

Raven’s lips parted in a silent gasp. She tried to speak, but words tangled in her throat. She shook her head, hoping that this was just a dream—but the heat in her chest, the pulse beneath her ribs, the faint glow along her wrist… all told her this was no ordinary dream.

He moved closer, slowly, deliberately, each step a promise of danger and fascination. His shadow stretched across her bedroom, reaching out toward her without touching her.

“I’ve been waiting,” he whispered. “Waiting for you to notice what you carry. Waiting for you to understand that it isn’t yours… not truly.”

Raven curled tighter into herself. Her mind spun. “I… I don’t understand…” she murmured, though even in the darkness she knew he could hear her. “What do you mean, it isn’t mine?”

He tilted his head, studying her like one might study a delicate, dangerous artifact. “The fire inside you. The pulse. The energy. The bond you feel—the strange ache, the burning… all of it is mine. And yet, you were chosen to contain it, to protect it until the time comes for it to awaken fully.”

The words made her stomach drop. She wanted to cry, to scream, to turn and flee, yet her body refused to obey. Something deep inside her stirred—a part of her she didn’t know existed—wanting, needing, drawn to the impossibly intense presence.

“I… I can’t…” she whispered. “I don’t even know who you are…”

“You will,” he said simply. “Soon. Very soon. When the seal cracks, when the bond fully awakens… then you will understand. And you will have no choice. Your life, your heartbeat, your very soul—it will all belong to what you carry.”

The ache in her chest flared suddenly, white-hot and unbearable. She clutched at it, gasping, tears pricking her eyes. The glow on her wrist pulsed in perfect rhythm with the pain, as though it had a mind of its own.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he asked softly, his voice like fire licking her skin. “The presence inside you? The emotion that isn’t yours? It calls to me. And I am drawn to it. Always.”

Raven shook her head violently. “No… no… this isn’t real!” she screamed, though the sound was trapped in her throat.

His shadow flickered with her movements, almost alive, almost sentient. “It is very real,” he whispered. “And you are very much alive because of it. That bond, that pulse, that fire… it is everything. And one day, you will understand that it has always been yours to carry—and mine to claim.”

Her breathing came in ragged bursts. The heat in her chest spread like wildfire, and she felt dizzy, weak, and exposed. Something primal inside her screamed in terror, yet something else—an unnameable pull—made her ache in ways she had never experienced before.

She pressed a hand to her wrist, trying to calm the faint glow there, the mark that now seemed alive, aware of the presence that had haunted her dreams.

“You’re not ready to see me yet,” he said, his voice softening just enough to make her want to obey, to surrender, to feel safe in his dangerous proximity. “But soon… very soon… you will be. And when that time comes, there will be no turning back.”

The room around her seemed to shimmer, pulse, and breathe. Shadows danced on the walls like living things. Raven trembled violently, sinking to the floor, hugging herself as the ache in her chest intensified. She didn’t know whether it was fear, excitement, or pain—but she knew it was real, and she knew it was only the beginning.

The last thing she heard before waking, before the nightmare faded and left only a memory of fire and shadow, was his voice:

“Raven… you cannot run from what you were born to carry. You will awaken… and I will be there.”

Her eyes flew open, heart racing, chest pounding. The sun hadn’t risen yet, the apartment still dim and cold, but she knew—she just knew—that her life had already changed. The man with burning eyes wasn’t a dream. He was real. And he was waiting.

And deep in her chest, something pulsed—alive, urgent, insistent.

Something that wasn’t hers.