Awoken
866 Words
A low, echoing throb pulsed through Kenneth’s body as he stirred from a heavy, dreamless sleep. The first sensation was pain—dull and distant, like a scar deeper than flesh. He inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat. A coldness lingered in his lungs, foreign and old. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
Light filtered through sheer curtains, bathing the chamber in a muted, silvery glow. He blinked once. Twice. Then sat upright in a rush.
Where am I?
His body felt… unfamiliar. Taller. Broader. Stronger. He looked down at his hands—leaner, longer, calloused with lines of hardened skin. Even the weight of his limbs seemed different, as though power now surged beneath every inch of his form.
"What happened to me…?"
The last thing he remembered was—
A blade.
Commander Thorne.
The image of the man’s cold glare and the stabbing pain that tore through his gut sent a violent shiver racing down Kenneth’s spine. He winced, his hand instinctively going to the side of his torso. There was no wound. No blood. Only a faint scar.
He swung his legs off the stone bed where he'd been laid and stood slowly, his bare feet pressing into the polished marble floor. His balance was stable, more than stable. It felt… flawless.
Something’s changed.
He moved toward the heavy door. Just the effort of opening it sent a shock through his senses—he hadn’t even strained. It swung open easily, groaning slightly on its hinges.
Outside the chamber, the corridor stretched dim and quiet, save for the soft pads of footsteps.
And then—
She appeared.
A girl. Young. Beautiful beyond words. She moved gracefully, her arms full of white lilies and a small wooden tray of vials and salves. Her head was bowed, her dark hair cascading like silk over her shoulders. She didn’t notice him at first, lost in some quiet thought.
Then she looked up.
The flowers fell.
The tray clattered.
Her violet eyes widened in disbelief, and then joy bloomed across her face.
“Kenneth!” she cried.
She ran to him without hesitation, flinging herself into his arms with an embrace so tight and sudden it caught him off guard. He stumbled back half a step.
Her face buried in his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Then, as if realizing her impulsive boldness, she gasped and stepped back abruptly, cheeks flushed a deep red.
“I—I’m sorry!” she said breathlessly, pressing her hands to her face. “I didn’t mean to… I just… it’s been so long—”
Kenneth blinked at her, stunned.
“…Do I know you?”
Her expression faltered, then softened. She looked up at him again, gentler this time.
“I’m Seraphine,” she said, her voice lower. “We met a long time ago… before you were hurt.”
He stared at her. The name echoed somewhere faintly in his memory. But the girl before him—no, the woman—was far more breathtaking than the young noble girl he remembered.
“You’ve changed,” he said quietly. “You… you’re not how I remember.”
She smiled shyly. “Neither are you. You were just a boy when it happened. Now…” Her gaze traced his form with awe. “You’ve grown. A lot.”
Kenneth looked down at himself again, still processing the shift in his body. “What happened to me?”
Seraphine hesitated for a moment, her hands clutching the edges of her robe.
“You were stabbed,” she said gently. “By Commander Thorne. It was done by an enchanted dagger. The healers said it couldn't kill you instead it put you into a slumber... it's more of a forced slumber—a preservation state. They placed you in this chamber, kept sealed with protective wards.”
“…How long?” he asked, his voice low.
She looked away, then met his eyes again.
“Seven years.”
Kenneth’s mouth parted slightly, stunned. “Seven… years?”
Seraphine nodded. “I’ve been visiting every day. I always brought flowers or oils or incense—anything to remind you of life. I kept hoping you’d wake up.”
There was a quiet pause between them. Kenneth took a step forward, staring at her with his piercing blue eyes—unlike the red most vampires bore.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “For not giving up on me.”
Seraphine’s eyes shimmered slightly, but she quickly looked away, brushing at her cheek with her sleeve. “Everyone will be so relieved to see you again. We should… we should go.”
Kenneth nodded slowly.
“Where?”
She smiled faintly. “The Seventh Queen’s castle. Your mother’s palace.”
The words stirred something warm—and painful—within him. His memories were still fractured, but the name of the Seventh Queen brought both comfort and sorrow.
He looked toward the long corridor ahead. For the first time in seven years, his journey resumed.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.”
And together, they walked side by side, leaving the slumber chamber behind.
The Anomaly has awoken.
- Writer
