The Dream
1085 Words
Seraphina's POV
I gasped—and woke with a sharp inhale, sitting bolt upright in bed.
My heart hammered violently, skin slick with cold sweat. Morning light spilled faintly through the curtains now, soft and deceptively normal. The room was quiet. Safe.
My palm burned.
I looked down.
The scar glowed faintly crimson before dimming again.
I clenched my hand into a fist, breath steadying as understanding settled deep in my bones—not as fear, but as certainty.
Don Moretti had been silenced before he could finish what he started.
But the Crimson Bloodline hadn’t ended.
It had waited.
And now—it was mine. To either burn the culprits or rule what was rightfully mine. And I chose to burn them until they were ash.
I swung my legs off the bed, the decision settling into my bones with frightening calm.
No hesitation. No second-guessing.
*Burn them.*
I pressed my feet to the floor, grounding myself as the last echoes of the dream faded. The room smelled faintly of detergent and lavender Mandie’s doing.
Normal. Too normal for someone who’d just accepted that her blood carried something ancient and lethal.
My palm still tingled.
I flexed my fingers slowly, watching as faint crimson veins flickered beneath my skin before disappearing again. Controlled. Dormant—but not gone.
“So it wasn’t just grief,” I murmured to myself. “Or stress. Or sleep deprivation.”
I stood, catching my reflection in the mirror opposite the bed. The girl staring back looked the same—messy hair, tired eyes, soft features worn thin by loss. And yet… something was different. My gaze felt sharper now. Heavier. Like I wasn’t just seeing the world anymore. I was _measuring_ it.
Judging it.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Sera?” Mandie’s voice followed. “Are you alive in there, or should I start panicking?”
I exhaled and ran a hand through my hair. “Alive,” I called back. “Define panicking.”
Mandie opened the door anyway, holding a mug in each hand. She paused the second she really looked at me.
“…Okay,” she said slowly. “That was not the face you had before you slept.”
I accepted the mug—coffee, strong, exactly how I liked it. “I dreamed.”
Mandie snorted. “Everyone dreams, love.”
“This was different.”
That wiped the humor right off her face. She leaned against the doorframe, watching me carefully. “Different how?”
I took a sip, letting the bitterness anchor me. “I met him.”
“Who?”
“My dad.”
“Huh… how?” Mandie asked, looking both shocked and a little frightened.
“In my dream. Keep up. How are you going to be my right hand if you keep losing focus?” I said, scowling at her.
“Sorry,” Mandie said, looking genuinely apologetic.
Silence stretched between us.
Mandie didn’t dismiss it. Didn’t joke. She only asked quietly, “And?”
“And he confirmed what Mom couldn’t finish explaining,” I said. “He was murdered. Not because he was powerful—but because he was becoming something they couldn’t control.”
Mandie searched my face, clearly weighing a thousand questions she didn’t voice. Finally, she said, “You’re not crazy.”
I blinked. “That was… fast.”
“I’ve known you since you cried over a dead cactus for three days,” Mandie replied flatly. “If you say something real is happening, then something real is happening.”
A faint smile tugged at my lips. “Thank you.”
Mandie hesitated. “Do I want to know what comes next?”
My smile faded.
“They’ll come for me,” I said simply. “Whoever killed him. Whoever made sure the truth stayed buried. They thought cutting the bloodline would erase the power.”
My eyes darkened.
“They were wrong.”
Mandie swallowed. “And what are you going to do?”
I straightened, the last remnants of sleep burning away. Whatever fear I might’ve felt had already been consumed by something far colder purpose.
“I’m going to learn,” I said. “Everything. How this works. Who’s involved. What my mother sacrificed to keep me hidden.”
I paused, my voice dropping.
“And then I’m going to dismantle them. Slowly. Thoroughly. I’ll make sure no one ever dares come after my family, my loved ones, or anyone in my situation again.”
Mandie cleared her throat, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Um… girl, you’re an orphan now, so what family?” She burst out laughing.
I turned to glare at her. “That’s not funny.”
“But it _is_ actually,” Mandie replied, still laughing.
“Okay… it kind of is” I admitted, a grin slipping onto my lips before I burst out laughing too.
“The past 42 hours have been so weird and slightly funny,” I said, trying to calm down.
“Yeah, but hey, at least you’ve got me,” Mandie said with a cheerful smile.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Mandie stared, then sighed. “I knew letting you nap would be dangerous.”
I huffed softly. “You’re still with me?”
Mandie rolled her eyes. “Please. You don’t get to become a secret heir to an ancient crimson power and not let me help. I already rearranged my schedule.”
Something warm tightened in my chest. “You’re insane.”
“Absolutely,” Mandie agreed. “But you’re not doing this alone.”
“I never said I was. Whether you like it or not, you’re coming. Whether you like it or not,” I said, staring her down.
“I’m sorry, what? You do realize I have a family too, right? And a life here?”
“What family? My mom was the only family you had, and she’s gone. So we’re both orphans now.”
“Damn it, I hate when you use that as leverage,” Mandie muttered under her breath, her fingers gripping the mug tighter.
“It’s not leverage. It’s just the truth. So start packing whatever you need. We’re leaving after Mom’s funeral,” I said, walking toward the bathroom.
“And what day is it?”
“Three days from now,” I said with a smirk, shutting the door behind me. “I have a feeling something fun is going to happen.”
- Writer
