Chapter 18
987 Words
Sound came first.
A slow, steady beeping.
Faint.
Distant.
Then closer.
Mia drifted toward it, her thoughts thick and heavy, like she was moving through something dense and unseen. Awareness came in fragments—pieces that didn’t quite fit together yet.
The beeping again.
Closer now.
Her body followed next.
Pain.
It spread through her all at once, sharp and consuming, like her entire body had been set aflame. Every nerve screamed to life, her skin burning, her chest tight as she struggled to breathe.
A soft cry slipped from her lips.
“Mia!!”
The voice shattered through the haze.
“Can you hear me? Baby?!”
Her mother.
“Mia, please—”
“Kane! She’s waking up!” her mother yelled, her voice breaking. “Kane!”
There was movement—fast, urgent.
A chair scraping.
Footsteps.
“Mia?” her father’s voice, closer now, rough with something she’d never heard before. Fear. “Baby girl, can you hear us?”
Mia tried to answer.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Her body wouldn’t obey her.
“Doctor!” Kane called out sharply. “Doctor, she’s moaning—she’s trying to wake up. Is she in pain? What’s happening?”
More footsteps.
Measured this time.
Calm.
A hand wrapped gently around hers—cool, steady.
“Mia,” a man’s voice said softly. “Can you open your eyes for me?”
She recognized the tone, even if her mind struggled to place it.
“Let’s check her vitals,” he murmured, more to himself now.
She felt movement—light pressure, practiced hands, the quiet rhythm of someone assessing.
Then—
“She’s coming around,” the doctor said, his voice shifting as he addressed the others. “Your Highnesses, she’s stable. There are no signs of any serious complications.”
A pause.
“Once she fully regains consciousness, she’ll be able to go home.”
Relief filled the room in a quiet wave.
“Thank you, Doctor Charles,” her mother breathed.
Footsteps again.
The door opening.
Closing.
Silence returned—but not the same silence as before.
This one was full.
Heavy.
“Did you hear what the teacher said?” Kane’s voice dropped, lower now, controlled—but barely. “She stopped breathing.”
Mia’s mind stirred.
“…and her skin started to split open…” he continued, the words strained. “Now she’s fully healed.”
A pause.
“What could cause something like that?” he muttered. “A virus? Something worse?”
Her mother didn’t answer right away.
Kane exhaled sharply. “Do we have someone new hunting us? Something is wrong here.”
Mia’s pulse picked up slightly.
“Honey…” her mother started, but he cut in.
“I’m not taking chances.”
There was a rustle of fabric, then the faint sound of a phone being pulled free.
“Antonio,” Kane said, his voice turning sharp and commanding. “I want all the security footage from that museum.”
A pause.
“If someone is targeting us, I want to know now.”
Another pause.
“The celebration is coming. We cannot have anyone attacking people on our territory.”
Silence followed.
Then the call ended.
Mia lay still.
Listening.
Thinking.
Skin splitting open.
Bleeding.
Healing.
Her chest tightened—not from pain this time, but from memory.
Red flowers.
Black water.
A voice.
Soon, Mia… soon.
Her breathing stayed steady, though her mind raced.
She didn’t open her eyes.
Not yet.
She needed a moment.
Needed to understand what she could before questions started.
Nearby, she heard her father move again—slower now.
Softer.
He wrapped his arms around her mother, pulling her close. Mia could hear the quiet shift of fabric, the subtle exhale as her mother leaned into him.
A soft kiss.
Familiar.
Grounding.
Mia inhaled slowly.
Then—
Her eyes opened.
The light was gentle, filtered. The room came into focus piece by piece—walls, equipment, the steady blinking monitor beside her.
She turned her head slightly.
“Where am I?” she asked, her voice rough but clear.
Her mother was at her side instantly.
“Oh, Mia…” she breathed, relief flooding her expression. “You’re at the hospital, darling.”
“You passed out at the museum,” she continued quickly. “Lilly found you.”
Mia blinked, trying to sit with that.
“You stopped breathing,” her mother said, her voice trembling again. “And your skin… oh, baby…”
She reached for Mia’s hand.
“Your skin was splitting open. You were bleeding—”
Kane stepped closer, his presence solid, steady.
“It only lasted a few moments,” he added, more controlled. “Then you started healing.”
Mia’s heart skipped.
Healing.
“The doctor says you’re perfectly healthy now,” her mother continued. “No internal damage, no signs of trauma.”
She brushed a hand gently through Mia’s hair.
“Do you remember anything?” she asked softly. “Did you drink anything? See anyone you didn’t recognize?”
Mia hesitated.
Her mind drifted again—
The field.
The hunger.
The water.
That voice.
Soon.
Her chest tightened briefly.
No.
Not yet.
“I’m fine, Mom,” Mia said, managing a small, reassuring smile. “I think I might’ve just… forgotten to drink anything this morning.”
A weak excuse.
But enough.
For now.
Her mother studied her for a moment, searching.
Then slowly nodded, though worry still lingered in her eyes.
“Alright,” she said quietly. “We’ll keep an eye on you.”
Mia leaned back against the pillow, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling.
Her body felt normal.
Too normal.
As if nothing had happened at all.
But beneath the surface—
Something had changed.
She could feel it.
Faint.
Waiting.
And somewhere deep in her mind—
That voice still lingered.
- Writer
