Blood&Bloom
922 Words
The cold didn’t bother her.
Zariah sat there long after Raye vanished into the shadows. Her breath fogged the air in soft white clouds, but she barely noticed. Her body buzzed with something unfamiliar like static. Like lightning under skin.
"You're waking up."
The words replayed over and over again. Her fingers still tingled from the glow, the crack in the concrete like a scar beneath her palm.
What the hell was she?
And what did Raye mean when she said she was sent to kill her?
Zariah blinked rapidly, trying to ground herself. The city around her moved on like nothing happened cars honking in the distance, laughter spilling out from the club, heels clacking past her on the sidewalk. But she felt… unhinged. Like the world tilted without warning and forgot to take her with it.
She stood slowly, gripping the wall for support. Everything felt too loud, too bright.
The air crackled against her skin as she moved, and when she passed by the cracked part of the wall again, she saw it a strange, faint symbol had burned into the stone.
A flower. A bloom. With veins curling out like vines, dripping into blood.
She froze.
It wasn’t graffiti. No one had painted it. It was seared into the wall like a brand.
Her chest tightened. Something about it felt familiar, like a word she used to know but forgot how to speak.
She reached out to touch it again
"Zariah!"
Mateo’s voice snapped her back to reality. He jogged out of the club, coat in one hand, a worried frown on his face.
"s**t, I’ve been looking for you. Are you okay?"
She nodded automatically, though her knees were still weak. "Yeah. Yeah, I just needed air."
He frowned deeper, stepping closer. "You look pale. Like, really pale. Come on, I’ll walk you home."
She didn’t argue.
The walk to her apartment was quiet. Zariah didn’t speak, and Mateo didn’t push. He had always been the kind of friend who let silence exist without trying to fix it.
When they reached her building a crumbling third-floor flat above a closed-down butcher shop she turned to him.
"Thanks."
"You sure you’re good?"
"No," she admitted. "But I will be."
He nodded once. "Call me if you need anything."
Then he left.
She climbed the stairs slowly. The hallway smelled like old meat and bleach. Her door creaked open with a tired groan, and she slipped inside, locking it behind her.
She dropped her bag, stripped off her jacket, and sank onto her mattress on the floor. No frame. No warmth. Just a blanket and a thin pillow, and the shadows on her walls.
She curled into herself.
And cried.
Silent tears. No sobbing. Just water leaking out of her soul, because nothing felt right anymore
Zariah didn’t remember falling asleep.
But when she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t in her room.
She was standing barefoot in a field of ash.
The sky above was purple and black, stars bleeding into clouds that looked like smoke. The ground cracked beneath her feet, glowing gold and red like a dying ember.
And in the distance a woman stood.
She looked like Zariah.
But older. Crowned in flame. Dressed in black and gold, blood dripping from her fingertips, a flower blooming from her shoulder like a living tattoo.
Zariah tried to speak.
The woman turned slowly, her eyes glowing white-hot.
"You are not ready," the woman said. Her voice was layered not one voice, but many. Soft and thunderous at once.
"I what is this?" Zariah asked. "What am I seeing?"
The woman stepped closer. "You are not meant to sleep. You are meant to rise."
Zariah backed away. "No. This isn’t real."
The woman raised her hand.
Zariah’s chest burned.
"You have been hidden for too long, child of blood and bloom. The veil thins. You must choose what to become before the world chooses for you."
Zariah gasped as fire bloomed from her chest like a rose made of flame. She dropped to her knees, screaming
And woke up.
Her room was dark. Her throat was raw. Her skin was cold.
But on her chest, just above her heart, was a faint mark. A symbol.
The same bloom she saw on the wall.
Her hand trembled as she touched it.
It felt like skin… but it glowed faintly in the moonlight.
Across the city, Raye stood on a rooftop.
The wind cut through her white suit, but she didn’t feel it.
She lit a cigarette with steady hands, watching the streets below.
Behind her, her bodyguard and second-in-command Luca stepped forward.
"You saw her," he said.
Raye didn’t respond.
"You were supposed to end it tonight."
"I know."
"Then why didn’t you?"
Raye exhaled smoke, her eyes cold. "Because they were wrong. She’s not a threat yet."
"She will be."
"I’ll handle it."
Luca hesitated. "You’re not getting soft, are you?"
Raye turned slowly. "Say that again."
He looked away. "Forget it."
She crushed the cigarette with her heel and stepped back into the shadows.
But as she walked away, she whispered to herself
"She’s not what they told us she’d be. She’s… something else."
Back in her room, Zariah stood in front of her mirror, shirt lifted, the mark glowing faintly. The flower burned gold and red, and for the first time… she felt something besides fear.
She felt awake.
She didn’t know who she really was.
But she would find out.
Even if it killed her.
- Writer
