Bloodbound Awakening

chapter 2: whisper in the wind

Elian woke to the gray light of dawn slipping through the curtains. The square outside was empty except for the swirling mist that never seemed to leave. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her whole body felt heavy, like she hadn’t rested at all.

The dream she had was already fading from her memory, but the feeling stuck—the cold, the fear, the sound of a name that didn’t quite belong to her.

Raelith.

She whispered it under her breath, tasting the word. It felt strange on her tongue, like an old song she half-remembered. Shaking it off, she got dressed and headed downstairs.

The dining room of the hotel smelled of stale coffee and something fried. Most of her classmates were already there, sitting at long tables, laughing and talking over plates of eggs and toast.

Elian grabbed a cup of coffee and a slice of bread and found an empty seat by the window. Mia spotted her and slid into the chair across from her.

"You good?" she asked, tearing a croissant in half. "You ran off so fast last night."

Elian shrugged. "I just got a bad feeling. That place... it’s weird."

Mia laughed lightly. "The whole town is weird. But in a cool way. Like we're in a horror movie, but nothing bad really happens."

Elian forced a smile. She didn’t feel like explaining what she had seen. How could she, without sounding crazy?

Mr. Holloway stood up at the front of the room and clapped his hands for attention.

"Alright, listen up!" he said. "Today, we're going on a walking tour of the town. We'll have a local guide taking us around. Please stay with the group and don’t wander off. This place is easy to get lost in."

There were a few groans from the crowd, but most people seemed excited.

"After the tour, you'll have free time until dinner. Curfew is ten o'clock sharp," Mr. Holloway finished.

Mia elbowed Elian. "See? No big deal. Just some old buildings and stories. It'll be fun."

Elian nodded, but her stomach twisted.

Something about Veyruhn didn’t feel harmless. It felt... hungry.

The guide was already waiting for them outside. He was an old man, stooped and thin, wearing a long gray coat and a black cap. His face was covered in deep lines, and his eyes were sharp as broken glass.

"My name is Mr. Karver," he said in a voice like gravel. "I know every stone in this town. But not every stone welcomes strangers."

The students shifted uneasily. Mr. Holloway gave them a smile like, don't worry, it's just an act.

Elian wasn’t so sure.

They followed Mr. Karver through the misty streets. He walked slowly but with purpose, tapping the cobblestones with a heavy walking stick.

"This town was built more than a thousand years ago," he said. "Some say even older, built on older bones. Bones we do not speak of."

He chuckled darkly, but no one laughed.

They passed houses with boarded-up windows, old wells covered with iron grates, statues so worn down by time their faces were gone.

Elian felt eyes on her everywhere they went. Watching from windows, from alleys, from cracks in the stones.

She tried to stay close to Mia, but part of her kept pulling away, drawn to the edges of the group, to the places the others didn’t notice.

At the edge of town, Mr. Karver stopped in front of a tall iron gate, rusted and covered in twisting vines.

Behind it was a garden, or what had once been a garden. Now it was just wild, tangled weeds and broken stone paths.

"This," Mr. Karver said, "was once the garden of the House of Raelith."

Elian's head snapped up.

Raelith.

The name from her dreams.

The name that didn’t feel like a name at all, but something deeper.

"Who were they?" someone asked.

Mr. Karver smiled thinly. "Old blood. Older than the town itself. Lords and ladies who knew things... better left forgotten."

The gate creaked as the wind pushed against it.

"They say the last of the Raelith line vanished," Mr. Karver continued. "One night, many, many years ago. Some say they were cursed. Some say they simply went... home."

He leaned closer, his eyes glittering.

"But some say they still walk among us, hidden in mist and shadow."

The group shuffled nervously. A few of the students whispered to each other, laughing to hide their discomfort.

Mia leaned toward Elian. "Bet he tells this story to every tour group," she whispered.

Elian didn’t answer. Her heart pounded in her chest.

The garden seemed to call to her. She could almost hear the faint whisper of leaves, the rustle of unseen footsteps.

She stared through the gate. For just a moment, she thought she saw someone standing there—a woman in a long dark dress, hair blowing in the mist.

She blinked—and the figure was gone.

The tour moved on.

They passed through narrow alleys where the buildings leaned so close together that only a sliver of sky was visible. They saw ancient wells, their mouths sealed with heavy stones. They stopped in front of a black fountain where the water didn’t move and where nothing grew.

Mr. Karver told more stories—of wars, betrayals, strange disappearances. He spoke of a night centuries ago when the mist came and never fully left. A night when the bells of the cathedral rang by themselves, though no one pulled the ropes.

Through it all, Elian felt like a thread pulling tighter around her. Like she was being drawn toward something she couldn't escape.

By the time the tour ended back at the square, the sky was even darker, even though it was only mid-afternoon.

Mr. Karver tipped his hat.

"Be careful where you walk," he said. "Not every path in Veyruhn leads back."

Then he turned and disappeared into the mist.

The rest of the day passed in a strange blur.

Some students went shopping, buying trinkets and postcards from the few stores that were open. Others stayed in their rooms, too tired from jet lag to explore more.

Elian tried to act normal, but her mind kept drifting back to the garden, to the name, to the figure in the mist.

That evening, Mia dragged her out again, insisting they explore the town before it got too dark.

"Come on," Mia said, pulling on her jacket. "Just one more adventure."

Elian hesitated, but finally nodded.

They wandered through the quieter parts of town, where the streets twisted into dead ends and the mist hung thicker. They found a tiny bookshop tucked between two crumbling houses. The door creaked as they pushed it open.

Inside, the shop was packed with books so old their spines were falling apart. The air smelled of dust and ink.

An old man sat behind the counter, reading a heavy leather-bound book. He looked up and smiled, but said nothing.

Mia headed to a section marked "Local History."

Elian wandered on her own, running her fingers along the worn covers.

One book caught her eye. It had no title, just a black cover cracked with age. She pulled it from the shelf and opened it carefully.

The pages were filled with strange symbols, drawings of circles, and writings in a language she didn’t recognize.

Near the middle of the book was a name, written over and over again.

Raelith.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She flipped more pages. Images of a cathedral, a black garden, a figure standing in the mist.

A voice spoke behind her, making her jump.

"You have their eyes."

She spun around.

The old man behind the counter was staring at her, his eyes dark and knowing.

"You carry their blood," he said softly. "You cannot run from it."

Elian dropped the book, her hands shaking.

Mia came over, laughing lightly. "Find something creepy?"

Elian shook her head quickly. "No, just... an old book."

They left the shop quickly, the bell over the door jangling harshly as they stepped back into the mist.

That night, back in her room, Elian couldn't sleep.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing.

She thought about the garden, about the name, about the way the town seemed to breathe around her.

And about what the old man had said.

"You carry their blood."

What did it mean?

Around midnight, she finally drifted into a restless sleep.

In her dream, she was standing in the black garden. The vines writhed at her feet. The sky above was filled with swirling mist.

The cathedral loomed in the distance, its bells tolling a low, mournful sound.

A woman stood across from her, cloaked in shadows. Her face was hidden, but her voice was clear.

"Raelith," she said. "You have returned."

Elian tried to speak, but no words came.

The woman reached out a hand.

Elian stepped forward, helpless, drawn by something she couldn't fight.

As she touched the woman's hand, a flash of pain shot through her chest. She gasped and fell to her knees.

"You must remember," the woman said. "Before it is too late."

The mist closed in.

The bells rang louder.

And Elian woke, gasping for air, clutching her chest.

Outside her window, the mist curled against the glass, thick and heavy.

Watching.

Waiting