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### **Chapter 3:Threads of Fate**
Dylan sat cross-legged on his bed, his phone abandoned on the nightstand. Across from him, Valen leaned against the window, golden eyes glinting faintly in the dim light of the room. Kieran, sprawled on the armchair, twirled a pen between his fingers like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
The silence was unbearable.
"So," Dylan started, his voice too loud in the stillness. "Are you guys going to explain why you're acting like I've got some neon sign over my head that says 'special'?"
Kieran let out a soft laugh, tossing the pen onto the table. "He's sharp, isn't he? I told you he'd figure it out."
"I didn't figure anything out," Dylan shot back, folding his arms. "You're being cryptic for no reason. What's going on?"
Valen's gaze stayed fixed on the window, his posture stiff. "It's not that simple."
"It never is, is it?" Dylan muttered, leaning back against the headboard. "Why am I even asking? Every time something weird happens, you two show up like clockwork, act all mysterious, and leave me more confused than I started."
"You're welcome, by the way," Kieran said with a grin.
"For what?" Dylan asked, exasperated.
"For saving your cute little—"
"Enough," Valen cut in sharply, his tone carrying enough weight to silence even Kieran's smirk. He finally turned to face Dylan, his expression unreadable. "You're in danger. That's why we're here. It's as simple as that."
"Danger from what?" Dylan demanded. "What could possibly be after me? I'm nobody!"
Kieran chuckled softly, leaning forward in his chair. "That's the thing, Dylan. You think you're nobody, but there's something about you—something that draws attention. Dangerous attention."
Dylan frowned. "Like what?"
Kieran's smile didn't reach his eyes. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?"
Valen took a step closer, his golden gaze pinning Dylan in place. "We don't know *exactly* what's different about you, but it's there. It's not something you can ignore, and neither can the people—or things—that are drawn to it."
Dylan's breath caught. "Things?"
Kieran waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. We've got you covered. Think of us as your supernatural bodyguards."
"Supernatural?" Dylan repeated, his brow furrowing.
Valen sighed, the faintest trace of frustration creeping into his otherwise calm demeanor. "You've seen enough by now to know the world isn't as simple as you thought it was. You've felt it, haven't you? That sense that something is... off."
Dylan's thoughts immediately went to the strange moments he couldn't explain—the sudden feeling of warmth in his chest when he saw someone hurt, the way people around him seemed to calm down when he spoke, even when he didn't mean to.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, but his voice lacked conviction.
Kieran snorted. "You're a terrible liar."
Valen ignored him. "Whatever it is that makes you different, it's growing stronger. And the stronger it gets, the more attention it draws."
Dylan leaned forward, gripping the edge of the blanket. "What kind of attention?"
"The kind that doesn't take no for an answer," Kieran said darkly.
Before Dylan could respond, there was a faint knock on the door. All three of them froze, the atmosphere in the room suddenly tense.
"Are you expecting someone?" Valen asked, his voice low.
Dylan shook his head. "No. It's probably just my friend Claire."
Kieran arched a brow. "Claire? The one who's always trying to pull you out of trouble?"
"Yeah," Dylan said, standing up. "She checks on me when I don't answer my phone for a while. Let me—"
Valen moved to block him before he could reach the door. "Wait."
Dylan frowned. "What? It's just Claire."
Valen's gaze was fixed on the door, his body tense. "Something feels... wrong."
Kieran stood as well, his expression more serious than Dylan had ever seen. "Stay back," he said, his voice unusually sharp.
Dylan's pulse quickened. "You're both overreacting. It's probably—"
The knock came again, louder this time, and the air in the room seemed to shift. Dylan couldn't quite explain it, but the space felt heavier, like the weight of something unseen was pressing down on them.
Valen exchanged a look with Kieran before nodding. Kieran approached the door cautiously, his movements fluid and deliberate.
When he opened it, the hallway was empty.
"See?" Dylan said, though his voice was shaky. "No big deal."
Kieran didn't answer. He stepped into the hallway, glancing in both directions.
"Anything?" Valen asked.
Kieran shook his head, but his jaw was tight. "Nothing. But something was here."
Dylan felt a chill run down his spine. "What do you mean, something?"
Kieran closed the door, locking it behind him. "Just stay alert, Dylan. You might not want to believe it, but you're not exactly a regular guy. And whatever's out there? It knows that."
Dylan sank back onto the bed, his mind racing. He didn't understand any of this—Valen's cryptic warnings, Kieran's smug yet serious attitude, or the strange sense of unease that seemed to follow him lately.
But one thing was becoming clear: whether he liked it or not, his life was no longer his