Asher Beaumont woke to the steady hum of his alarm clock, its rhythm a familiar intrusion in the predawn darkness of his bedroom. The room was still, the air cool and the sheets tangled around his legs. He reached out, slapping the snooze button with practiced ease, and allowed himself a moment to lie still, his eyes adjusting to the faint light creeping through the blinds.

This was his routine. Wake up, stretch, shuffle to the bathroom, and begin the day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Asher was, by all accounts, an ordinary guy—though perhaps a bit more popular than most. He had a loving family, good friends, and a life free of any real worries. Today, however, there was an odd sensation gnawing at the edges of his awareness, as if something—or someone—was watching him.

Shaking off the uneasy feeling, Asher swung his legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The house was quiet, everyone still asleep. It was almost too quiet. As he splashed water on his face, he couldn't shake the sense that he wasn't alone. He glanced at the mirror, half-expecting to see something out of place, but there was nothing. Just his reflection staring back at him, the same dark hair tousled from sleep, the same green eyes that seemed a bit more tired than usual.

With a sigh, Asher pushed the feeling aside. He had bigger things to focus on today—like surviving another day at school and making it to soccer practice on time. Plus, it was his birthday. Not that anyone seemed to remember. He chuckled at the thought. Maybe they were just waiting for the right moment to spring a surprise.

After getting dressed in his usual jeans and a hoodie, he headed downstairs, where the smell of coffee filled the air. Ambrose was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand, scrolling through his phone.

"Morning, little bro," Ambrose greeted without looking up. Despite being only two years older, Ambrose had always taken his role as the elder brother seriously, acting as Asher's protector and guide through life's more complicated challenges. Perfect in nearly everything, Ambrose was the kind of guy who made everything look easy—whether it was academics, sports, or just being effortlessly cool.

"Morning," Asher replied, grabbing a slice of toast. "Where's Mom and Dad?"

"They had to leave early for some meeting. Said they'll be back late tonight."

Asher nodded, hiding his disappointment. They didn't say anything about his birthday either. Maybe they really did forget.

Ambrose looked up then, his expression unreadable. "Anything special planned for today?"

"Just school and practice. Same as always."

"Right." Ambrose smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, make sure you don't overdo it at practice. You don't want to be too tired tonight."

"Why? Got something planned?" Asher raised an eyebrow.

"Who knows?" Ambrose replied with a cryptic grin before finishing his coffee and heading out the door.

Shrugging off his brother's odd behavior, Asher grabbed his backpack and headed out as well, walking the familiar route to school. It was a crisp autumn morning, the trees lining the streets ablaze with color. He met up with his friends—Mark, a jokester with a sharp wit, and Elise, a kind-hearted girl with a knack for getting people out of trouble.

"Happy Birthday, Asher!" Elise greeted him with a bright smile as they met at their usual spot by the school gate.

Asher blinked in surprise. "You remembered?"

"Of course I did!" she laughed, punching him lightly on the arm. "I've known you since we were kids. How could I forget?"

Mark grinned, clapping him on the back. "Yeah, man. Happy Birthday! We were gonna get you something, but, uh… we figured we'd wait and see what you wanted first."

"Thanks, guys," Asher said, feeling a bit better. At least someone remembered. "But seriously, don't worry about it. Just another day, right?"

They spent the day going through the usual classes, lunch in the courtyard, and a bit of banter about the upcoming soccer match. Despite the ordinary routine, Asher couldn't shake the strange feeling that someone was watching him. It wasn't constant, more like brief flashes of awareness—a sensation of being followed, only for it to vanish when he turned around.

At one point, while washing his hands in the bathroom between classes, he could have sworn he saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eye. But when he whipped his head around, there was nothing. Just the cold, tiled walls and the faint hum of the overhead lights.

"Probably just stress," he muttered to himself, drying his hands and heading back to class.

After school, soccer practice went as usual, with the team running drills and working on their strategies for the next game. Asher threw himself into the practice, trying to distract himself from the nagging feeling that still lingered at the back of his mind. By the time practice ended, the sun was dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows across the field.

"See you tomorrow, Asher!" his coach called as he headed off the field.

Asher waved in response, slinging his bag over his shoulder and beginning the walk home. The streets were quieter now, the day's hustle and bustle having faded into the calm of early evening. His house was dark when he arrived, and for a moment, he wondered if Ambrose was out too. But as he pushed open the door, the lights flickered on, and a chorus of voices shouted, "Surprise!"

The living room was filled with people—his parents, Ambrose, Elise, Mark, and a few other friends from school. They all wore wide grins, and the room was decorated with streamers and balloons.

"You guys!" Asher laughed, his earlier suspicions confirmed. "I knew you were planning something."

"Didn't want to make it too easy for you," Ambrose teased, ruffling Asher's hair as everyone gathered around him.

The night was filled with laughter, cake, and presents. Everyone had gone all out, making sure Asher felt celebrated. But the highlight of the night came when Ambrose handed him a gift, wrapped in simple brown paper with a twine bow.

"Here," Ambrose said, his tone a bit more serious. "I've been holding onto this for a while, waiting for the right moment. I think now's the time."

Asher carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing a beautifully crafted sword, the hilt intricately designed with symbols he didn't recognize. It was perfectly balanced, and as he held it, he felt an inexplicable connection to it, as if the sword had been made just for him.

"Ambrose, this is incredible," Asher said, awed. "It's perfect. How did you…?"

"It's something special," Ambrose replied, his eyes holding a strange glint. "It's meant for you, Asher. There's more to it than meets the eye, but you'll understand when the time comes."

Before Asher could ask what he meant, the others were crowding around, admiring the sword and joking about how they were glad they didn't have to face Asher in a duel.

The party eventually wound down, and one by one, the guests left, leaving Asher alone with his thoughts. He couldn't stop thinking about the sword and Ambrose's words. There was something different about tonight, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

It was late when he finally headed to bed, but sleep didn't come easily. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the sword resting on his bedside table. Just as he was drifting off, a soft sound—a low hum—reached his ears. He sat up, heart pounding, and saw a strange light emanating from the corner of his room.

Before he could react, a portal opened, swirling with dark energy. His breath caught in his throat as two figures stepped out—a tall girl with a serious expression and another, shorter and brighter, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Who the hell are you?" Asher managed to choke out, scrambling for the sword.

The taller one, with piercing eyes and a steely demeanor, took a step forward. "We don't have much time. You're coming with us."