DREAMS OF BLOOD AND FIRE
656 Words
Not quite human..."
Elysia tossed and turned in her narrow bed, throwing off the covers. Her body felt too hot, her skin prickled with an energy she didn’t understand.
And then the dreams came.
She stood in a grand hall of black marble, lit by cold blue flames dancing on ancient torcheChapter Two: Dreams of Blood and Fire
The night after her strange encounter, Elysia couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him — that tall, dark figure with silver eyes burning into her soul. His voice, that haunting whisper, echoed in her minds. The air was thick with the scent of old blood and something darker, richer — magic. Before her, a throne rose, carved from bone and obsidian.
And on that throne sat a man — him.
The silver-eyed stranger.
Only now, he wore a crown of twisted iron, and blood dripped from his fingertips. His gaze locked onto hers, sharp and possessive, and when he spoke, the walls trembled.
"Mine."
Elysia gasped and woke up, drenched in sweat, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her window was open — she was sure she had locked it before bed — and the mist had slithered into her room, thick and cold.
A shadow moved just beyond the sill, there and gone.
She rushed to slam the window shut, locking it with trembling fingers.
"What the hell is happening to me?" she whispered.
The next morning, the city felt wrong.
People brushed past her on the streets, but everything seemed... muted, like she was walking through a dream she couldn't wake from.
And the strangest thing: whenever someone got too close, she could hear... things.
Whispers. Thoughts. Desires.
A woman passing by was thinking about her cheating husband.
A man on the bench dreamed of winning the lottery.
A child wanted ice cream so badly it made Elysia's stomach ache.
"This isn't real," she told herself. "I'm just tired. I'm stressed."
But deep down, something inside her was stirring — something ancient and powerful, clawing its way to the surface.
That night, she couldn't resist.
She found herself drawn back to the alley where she had first seen him.
The mist was thicker than before, swirling in slow hypnotic patterns.
Elysia stepped into the darkness, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
He was there.
Of course he was.
Leaning casually against the brick wall, as if he had been waiting for her all along. His silver eyes gleamed under the moonlight, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"You came," he said, his voice low and dark as velvet.
"I don't even know your name," she said, surprising herself with how steady her voice sounded.
He pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them with terrifying grace.
She didn’t back away this time.
"Names," he said, "have power." He circled her slowly, like a predator studying his prey. "But if you must call me something... call me Lucien."
Lucien.
The name fit him — dark, dangerous, ancient.
"And you, little one? What do they call you?"
"Elysia," she said, lifting her chin.
Lucien smiled, a flash of something sharp behind that handsome mouth.
"A fitting name... for one who was hidden from me for so long."
Her blood turned to ice.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
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He reached out, trailing his fingers lightly along her jaw. His touch was electric, sending sparks down her spine.
"You," he whispered, "are not what you think you are."
And with that cryptic statement, he leaned down — so close she could feel his breath on her lips — and vanished into the mist once more, leaving her trembling and more confused than ever.
- Writer
