Aria sat in front of the mirror, her hands trembling as she touched her face. It had only been hours since the incident with the blood, but the effects were lingering in her mind, clawing at her thoughts. Her body felt different—foreign, like an unrecognizable vessel. She had never imagined a day where she would look in the mirror and wonder, Who am I?
The thirst still burned at the back of her throat, though she had already drunk more than enough water to quench any normal person's thirst. Nothing could touch the feeling inside her. It was blood, she realized, and the weight of it crushed her. Animal blood—he'd said it was animal blood, but it didn't feel like it. The taste was still fresh in her mouth, a metallic aftertaste that lingered far too long.
Her reflection stared back at her, pale and cold. Her once warm skin had lost its color, leaving her looking like a ghost. The dark circles under her eyes had deepened since the night before. She was a stranger to herself.
"Normal." Henry's voice echoed in her head, the word stabbing at her heart. She had never been normal, that much was clear. But what was she now? What did she become?
A knock at the door broke her thoughts. It was Henry, his expression unreadable as he stepped inside. He was carrying a tray of food, though Aria knew the meal wasn't for her. She couldn't eat anymore. Not after... everything. The thirst. The blood.
"Aria," Henry said softly, closing the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she took a deep breath, her gaze flicking to the tray in his hands. Blood, she thought bitterly. Her stomach churned at the thought. She had no appetite. She didn't want to be reminded of what she had become.
"I don't know what's happening to me, Uncle Henry," she whispered, her voice cracking. She was so tired—tired of the confusion, the constant battle inside her. The battle between wanting to be human and realizing she was anything but human.
Henry set the tray down on her desk, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something darker—something she couldn't quite place. He crossed the room slowly, as if walking on eggshells. "You're going through the first stages, Aria. It's not easy, but you have to learn to control it. You can't hide from what you are."
Aria's breath hitched. "I don't want to be what I am, Uncle," she spat, her words sharp and raw. "I don't want this. I don't want to be a monster."
Henry sighed, his eyes softening. He crouched beside her, reaching for her trembling hands. "You're not a monster, Aria. You're a Velmoryn. There's a difference."
She jerked her hands away from him. "But I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of it." Her chest tightened with frustration. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why didn't you prepare me for this?"
Henry's gaze flickered to the floor, his jaw tight. "It wasn't safe. You weren't ready and I thought if I kept you away from our world, I could also keep you away from the enemies. I'm sorry. I wanted to protect you."
Aria's emotions were a whirlwind, and for a moment, she felt like she might lose control. She could feel something clawing at her—something deep inside her, a need to break free from everything. It was like a growing anger she cannot control that will burst open any moment. She was losing herself.
Before she could not stop herself, she shot up from her chair, her eyes widening as a sharp, familiar scent filled the room—the scent of someone close. Jackson.
Her senses had been heightened since that day, the taste of blood on her tongue still fresh, still there. But this was different. It wasn't the thirst. It was him. His presence. She could feel his emotions, the weight of his sadness, the tension that lingered in his every movement. She couldn't ignore it, not anymore.
Henry saw the change in her face before she could hide it. "Aria..." he warned softly, but it was too late.
The door creaked open, and Jackson stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable but she can see through his eyes that he was deeply concerned about her. His sharp eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.
"W-what are you doing here?" Aria was surprised to see him but her voice was barely above a whisper, but it held an edge—an edge she couldn't control. "What do you want, Jackson?"
"I came to see how you're doing," Jackson said, his gaze never leaving hers. There was something more in his voice, something deeper than concern. But it was hard to read, hard to decipher.
Aria's breath quickened as the pull between them grew stronger. It was confusing, this connection she couldn't understand. It terrified her.
Henry's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Jackson, why are you here? I told you to stay away." His tone was authoritative, and brimming with a hint of frustration.
But Jackson didn't move. His gaze shifted briefly to Henry, but his focus returning to Aria instantly as if drawn to her by an invisible force. He stepped forward, his eyes softening slightly as he glanced at Aria.
"You're not alone in this, Aria, keeping you in the dark is not going to protect you anymore," he said, his tone serious and full of conviction. "We'll help you through it. But you have to trust us."
Aria's heart hammered in her chest as she looked between the two of them, Henry's worried gaze and Jackson's steady one. Trust? She barely trusted herself. How could she trust them?
And what does he mean by 'us'? 'how did he know where I live? but most importantly, how did they know each other?
"Wait, how do you know each other?" Aria said with a confused look on her face.