Aura’s Warning
936 Words
The world blurred around Lina as the café settled back into its usual rhythm. Customers sipped coffee. The bell jingled. A toddler giggled at foam hearts drawn into her hot chocolate.
But to Lina, none of it was real.
Her gaze was locked on the stranger.
Kael.
She hadn’t learned his name yet, but her mind had branded him with one anyway, as though her instincts had whispered it in the dark. Kael. It fit him. Sharp. Shadowed. Too heavy to be ordinary.
Her chest tightened.
The aura still bled faintly from his skin—smoke and light woven together in dangerous tension. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even close.
And the worst part was that he knew she could see it.
---
The espresso machine hissed again, jolting her back. Lina nearly dropped the rag she was holding. Her boss, Marie, hurried over with a laugh, swatting at the steam.
“Old girl’s acting up again,” Marie muttered, patting the machine as though it were a cranky pet. “She’ll last the week. Hopefully.”
Lina forced a shaky smile. “Yeah. Just… just a quirk.”
But her hands trembled as she wiped the counter, her mind replaying the way Kael’s aura had surged when the customer cursed. He reacted to words. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t anything.
When she dared another glance at his table, she nearly flinched.
Because he was gone.
Her heart skipped. She spun subtly, pretending to fetch cups, scanning the café. The chair sat empty. The mug was still warm, half-full. But Kael had vanished like smoke slipping through fingers.
Lina’s stomach dropped.
Had she imagined it?
No. No, she hadn’t.
---
The rest of her shift crawled by in a haze. She burned her hand once on the steamer, earning a hiss from Marie. She overpoured milk twice. Every laugh from customers felt like static in her ears.
And all the while, the image of his aura burned in her memory. That violent reaction. That silent stare that seemed to pin her in place.
When her shift finally ended, she practically ran home.
Her apartment had never felt smaller. She shut the blinds, double-locked the door, and sank onto the couch with a mug of chamomile tea.
She tried to convince herself to let it go. To chalk it up to stress, to exhaustion, to anything but the truth she was beginning to fear.
But she couldn’t unsee it. She couldn’t unfeel the electric pull between her and him, the way her chest tightened when his eyes had locked with hers.
What are you? And why me?
---
That night, she dreamed again.
Not of the alley this time.
She dreamed of shadows swirling like storm clouds, wrapping around her wrists, pulling her toward a figure in the distance. His eyes gleamed like twin embers, unreadable and magnetic. He reached for her. She reached back.
But when their hands touched, the shadows turned to flame.
She woke with a scream.
---
The next day, she dreaded walking to work. Every step down the sidewalk felt weighted. Every face in the crowd seemed suspicious, every shadow stretched too far.
When she reached the café, her nerves spiked. She half expected to see him already waiting.
But he wasn’t there.
The morning rush came and went. She almost let herself breathe. Maybe he’d disappeared for good. Maybe she’d never see him again.
And then, just as she began to relax—
The bell over the door jingled.
Her chest constricted.
He walked in.
No aura this time. No glowing edges or flickering shadows. Just Kael, looking maddeningly ordinary in a dark coat, his hair slightly tousled, his expression calm.
But his eyes found hers immediately, and the pull was back, sharp and undeniable.
“Hi,” he said simply, voice low and steady.
Her throat went dry. “Uh—hi. Coffee?”
He nodded once. “Black.”
She fumbled with the machine, forcing herself to act casual. But when she slid the mug across to him, his fingers brushed hers.
The contact was brief. Barely a second.
And yet her pulse erupted. Heat shot up her arm. For an instant—just an instant—the faint shimmer of his aura flared around him again, like a warning.
Her breath hitched. She pulled her hand back quickly, hiding it behind the counter.
Kael’s eyes narrowed, studying her.
“You can see it, can’t you?” he murmured.
Lina froze.
Her heart thundered. She’d spent every moment convincing herself not to believe it, not to admit it, not even to herself. And now, here he was, ripping the denial from her chest with a single question.
Her lips parted. No words came.
He leaned slightly closer, his gaze sharp enough to pin her to the spot.
“You shouldn’t be able to,” he said, his tone more to himself than to her. “But you can.”
The room seemed to shrink. The noise of the café faded to a dull hum.
Lina forced air into her lungs. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But her voice betrayed her, trembling and thin.
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes gleamed faintly, dangerously.
Then, as if to prove his point, the lights above them flickered.
Lina jumped, clutching the counter.
Kael’s gaze never left hers.
“Stay away from me,” he said softly. “For your own good.”
And just like yesterday, he vanished.
One blink, and the space where he’d stood was empty, his untouched coffee cooling on the counter.
- Writer
