Blood Doesn’t Lie
742 Words
The city never felt so alive—and so deadly—than in the moments when I realized I couldn’t hide from it.
Selene led me through the safe house in near silence. Her steps were deliberate, confident, almost predatory. Every corner we passed seemed to whisper threats. My mind refused to stop racing. My body itched, the lingering heat from my earlier awakening still pulsing through my veins. Something inside me had changed, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“We need to test it,” Selene said abruptly, breaking the tense quiet. She glanced at me, her eyes sharp. “Your healing ability. It’s not subtle, Tristan. You need to know its limits.”
I swallowed. “Limits?”
“Yes,” she said. “What you did with that cut on your hand… that was minor. But if you face a real threat, you need to understand what your body can—and cannot—handle.”
Her words felt like a challenge. I wasn’t sure if she wanted to help me survive… or prove I wasn’t ready.
She pulled a metal tray from the counter. On it lay a set of knives—small, precise, each one gleaming under the dim fluorescent light. My stomach turned.
“Do I…?”
“You’ll do it,” she said simply. Her calm tone left no room for argument. “It’s the only way.”
I looked at my hands. They had healed once. But could I do it again? Could I survive… deliberately?
Selene leaned closer. “Fear is natural. Pain is natural. Both are useless if you let them control you. Focus, Tristan. And remember: blood doesn’t lie.”
Her words sent a shiver down my spine.
The first knife was light in her hands. She sliced it across my forearm gently, deliberately, enough to draw a thin line. I flinched, but the moment the knife left my skin, the cut began to close. Flesh knitting itself together like it had never been broken.
I stared at it, horrified and fascinated. My pulse raced. My chest tightened.
“That’s… impossible,” I whispered.
Selene’s expression softened briefly, though her eyes never lost that calculating edge. “It’s real. And it will make you a target. People will notice. Organizations, governments… even the ones who should be dead. You heal too fast, Tristan. You can’t hide it forever.”
Another knife. Deeper this time. I clenched my jaw. Pain tore through me, hot and sharp, but in moments it was gone. Healed.
“Why me?” I asked, voice trembling. “Why now?”
Selene didn’t answer immediately. She stepped back, watching me, almost like a scientist observing a subject. “Because the world is changing. And people like you… people like us… determine who survives it.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t fully understand.
A sudden noise outside made both of us freeze—a metallic scrape, faint but deliberate. My stomach dropped.
Selene’s eyes narrowed. “They’re closer than you think. You need to be ready.”
I flexed my hands, still tingling with energy. My cut had already disappeared, smooth skin as if nothing had happened. The realization hit me: my body could heal almost instantly. But each test, each incision, made me feel something else—something darker, more primal, awakening inside me.
“Selene…” I began, but she cut me off.
“No talking. Observe. Learn. And survive.”
She moved toward the window and peered through the blinds. Her face hardened. “They’re here.”
I followed her gaze. Across the street, a figure stood motionless in the shadows. Same symbol from my mother’s letter glowed faintly across his chest. Watching. Waiting.
Something in my chest clenched. I wanted to run, to hide, to scream—but I realized the truth: I couldn’t escape. Not now. Not ever.
Then my phone buzzed again. A new message appeared:
Power comes at a price. They’ll measure you, Tristan. And your first test begins tonight.
I looked at Selene, desperate for answers. But her eyes were unreadable. Calm. Cold.
“Your first test,” she whispered, almost to herself. “And they’ve already started.”
I felt my stomach twist. The world I knew was gone. My powers, my mother’s death, Selene’s warnings—they were all pieces of a game I didn’t understand.
And the first move had already been made against me.
- Writer
