Flora fumbled with her books, clutching them tightly as the cool breeze rustled the campus trees. She avoided Maxwell's gaze as he walked past, his stride effortless and commanding, like he hadn't shattered her heart days ago. The memory of his dismissive words echoed in her mind: "It's none of my business." The phrase had become a cruel mantra, gnawing at her confidence.
But today, something about Maxwell seemed different. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on her for just a second too long. Flora dismissed it as her imagination, shaking her head and quickening her pace toward her next class.
Maxwell leaned against the library wall, the vision from his dream still haunting him. He could see it as vividly as if it had just happened: Flora, standing in the middle of a battlefield, her body crumpling under the weight of an enemy's blow, the light fading from her eyes.
It wasn't just a nightmare—it was a warning. He'd seen her death too many times to dismiss it now. He didn't know why it had to be Flora or why fate had chosen her to bear this burden, but he was sure of one thing: she couldn't die.
He spotted her in the distance, her head bowed as she hurried across the quad. For a moment, he thought about calling out to her, apologizing for the harsh way he'd brushed her off. But guilt and confusion held him back.
Instead, he resolved to keep his distance while still ensuring her safety. Whatever this prophecy meant, he'd find a way to stop it.
Luke waited for Flora outside the science building, his heart clenching as he saw her approach. She looked tired, as if the weight of the world rested on her small shoulders.
"Hey," he called out, waving. His voice softened when she looked up at him, her face brightening slightly at the sight of him.
"Luke," she said, her voice carrying a note of relief. "Thanks for waiting."
"Of course," he said, walking alongside her. "You okay?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Just... school stuff. Nothing major."
Luke didn't press her, though he knew there was more to it. He had known her long enough to recognize when something was bothering her. But Flora had always been the type to keep her struggles to herself, and he respected that.
Still, his heart ached for her. He wished she could see how much she meant to him, how much he wanted to be the one to take away her pain. But the words stayed locked in his throat, as they always did.
Later that evening, Flora sat alone in her dorm room, staring at the crumpled remains of the love letter she had written to Maxwell. She had been too embarrassed to throw it away, and now it felt like a painful reminder of her humiliation.
A knock on her door startled her. She quickly shoved the letter under a stack of notebooks and called out, "Come in."
To her surprise, it was Elara, one of the pack elders. The woman's presence was commanding, her silver hair and piercing eyes giving her an almost otherworldly aura.
"Elara?" Flora asked, standing up. "What are you doing here?"
Elara closed the door behind her, her expression serious. "We need to talk."
"About what?"
"Your destiny."
Flora blinked, confusion and unease swirling in her chest. "I don't understand."
Elara stepped closer, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "You are more important to this pack than you realize, Flora. The vampires are stirring, and war is coming. Your role in this is... significant."
"I think you've got the wrong person," Flora said, laughing nervously. "I'm not a warrior or a leader. I'm just... me."
"You may not see it yet," Elara said, her tone unwavering, "but the prophecy does not lie. You will play a pivotal role in what's to come. And you must be ready."
Flora's stomach twisted. "What prophecy? What are you talking about?"
Elara's eyes softened, but her voice remained firm. "In time, you will understand. For now, trust that you are stronger than you think. Do not let others' doubts—or your own—deter you."
Before Flora could ask more, Elara turned and left, leaving her with more questions than answers.
Elsewhere on campus, Maxwell stood at the edge of the woods, his fists clenched. He had come here seeking clarity, but the weight of the prophecy bore down on him like a vice.
A rustling sound in the shadows made him turn, his senses sharpening. A figure emerged from the trees—a vampire. Its pale skin and glowing red eyes were unmistakable.
"What are you doing here?" Maxwell demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
The vampire smiled, its fangs glinting in the moonlight. "Just observing," it said. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to the girl now, would we?"
Maxwell's blood ran cold. "Stay away from her."
The vampire chuckled. "Oh, I'm not here to harm her. Not yet, anyway. But you should be careful, Maxwell. Prophecies have a way of coming true, no matter how hard you fight them."
With that, the vampire disappeared into the darkness, leaving Maxwell seething.
Flora sat on her bed, staring out the window at the moonlit campus. Elara's words echoed in her mind, filling her with a mix of fear and curiosity.
What did she mean about a prophecy? Why would Flora have anything to do with a war against vampires?
Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a text from Luke:
"Want to grab coffee tomorrow? My treat."
She smiled faintly and typed back, "Sure. Thanks, Luke."
As she set her phone down, a sense of foreboding settled over her. Something was happening—something bigger than sh
e could understand. And deep down, she knew her life was about to change forever.