Chapter 2
1020 Words
Eli got back home sometime after nine.
He shut the apartment door behind him and kicked off his shoes like they were the reason his day had gone to hell. The place looked exactly how he’d left it—small, quiet, and dim, with one lightbulb doing its best in the corner.
The air inside smelled like stale coffee and the two slices of toast he’d forgotten to toss out two nights ago. He ignored both, eager to open the envelope.
The envelope was already sitting on the fold-out table where he must have flung it earlier. He dropped his bag by the door, peeled off his jacket, and pulled the chair out with one leg. Then he sat down and stared at it.
That damn tree…
His name was still written like the sender had carved it instead of writing it. Eli thought it felt heavier than it looked.
“All right,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes.” He cracked the already broken seal open, not as gently this time, and peeled the paper back.
He saw the first paper, referring him to Tower Nine, but then… inside was another folded stack, even thicker than before, tied with a strip of ribbon the same color as the wax.
There was more. Eli sighed and undid it slowly. The second page looked more formal than anything else he'd seen today.
—-
To Eli Sinclair, Last Scion of the Crimson Line:
The blood of your mother still flows in you. You bear a legacy older than the city stones. The hour approaches. When it arrives, your choice will shape the fate of kingdoms.
___
Eli blinked at the letter, then leaned in for a closer look.
“Oh,” he muttered. “Well… shit.”
His eyes drifted to the only framed photo in the apartment, the one sitting beside his old coffee mug. In it, his mom stood near a tree that now looked a lot like the one pressed into the wax seal.
It was the same photo he'd thought about back at the café.
Now, seeing it up close, the image felt clearer somehow—familiar in a way only something that’s been quietly sitting in your life for years could be. He used to think the tree was just a cool background. Now it didn’t feel so random.
He flipped to the next page, seeing a crude family tree, and his name sitting at the very bottom. Above were names he didn’t recognize… some scratched out, others faded completely. There were no dates or real clues of what it was.
Just a thin, spidery line connecting them all. At the bottom of the tree, where his name was, a single line of words were faint:
‘When the heir who will reshape empires stands at the threshold, blood ties do not bind; they command.’
“Yeah. I’m gonna need a nap before I believe any of this.” Eli scoffed in disbelief. He felt it was ridiculous to entertain thoughts of Tower Nine. He pushed the papers aside and leaned back. His chair creaked like it was judging him. None of this made sense. Crimson bloodlines? What a joke! Reshaping empires? He worked in a café and still used the same sponge to wash dishes and clean the sink.
Eli glanced back at the letter. Whoever wrote it knew his name, his mother, the symbol she used to keep in her stories. Either this was an elaborate prank, or it was exactly what it looked like: real, and dangerous.
His phone buzzed. Eli jumped a little, reached for it, and stared at the screen. There was no contact name. Just a number and a message:
Midnight. Rooftop 13. Tower Nine. Alone.
He read it again. It was the same cold and specific instructions from the first note. Eli dropped the phone on the table and stood up. He moved toward the window and pushed it open. Cold air blew in, carrying the smell of more rain.
From this far, he could still see Tower Nine. No one has gone there since the fire a few years ago. Half the building was abandoned. The security was tight to ward off robbers… yet, whoever sent this message didn’t seem to care about that.
“Shit.” Eli ran a hand through his hair. “So let’s get this straight, Eli. You’re going to a rooftop, all alone at midnight… based on a f*****g letter from a tree cult. Is that it?” He stopped by the table and stared at the envelope again.
What sort of cruel joke was this?
Why him?
Eli didn’t know what he expected from his day, but this? This was nowhere on the list. He glanced again at the photo. His mom’s faint smile hadn’t changed, but the more he looked, the less kind it felt… more like she was mocking him.
Eli slammed the photo down. To his surprise, there were faint handwriting on the back… hardly visible numbers. A date maybe? He squinted. It could’ve been anything, but he never noticed until today.
Maybe this had always been coming. He’d just ignored it long enough.
He looked at the clock.
There were several hours left before midnight. Eli went to the kitchen, made himself another black sugarless cup of coffee. He sipped it while pulling open drawers and packing a small bag. Phone, charger, a pen, flashlight, the photo, and a folding knife he hadn’t touched in months.
He hesitated, then threw in a hoodie and the rest of the letter. When he zipped the bag closed, he sat back down and rested his arms on the table.
The apartment was quiet. This place had been enough for the kind of life he thought he had. But maybe it wasn’t his life anymore. Eli stood up, grabbed his keys, and opened the door. The hallway light flickered as he stepped into it.
He saw the same old building, and the same old broken light.
But something had changed.
Tower Nine waited.
- Writer
