By the time Noah stumbled back to the bonfire, the party was winding down. The music was softer, and most of the crowd had dispersed. Ryder spotted him first, jogging over with a beer in hand.
"Dude, where the hell have you been?" Ryder asked, his brow furrowed. "I was about to send out a search party."
"I... got lost," Noah lied.
Ryder frowned, his gaze lingering on Noah's pale face and trembling hands. "You okay, man? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Noah forced a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just tired."
Ryder didn't look convinced, but he let it go. "Come on, let's head back before Dana sends the cops after us."
---
That night, Noah lay awake in bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. His mind was a storm of confusion and fear. He couldn't shake the images of Castor and Finn—or the strange energy he'd felt stirring within him.
Was it possible they were telling the truth? Could he really be... whatever they said he was?
As exhaustion finally pulled him into a restless sleep, the dreams returned. But this time, they were clearer. He saw flashes of his brothers, their faces twisted in pain and anger. He saw a man with golden eyes standing over him, his expression both proud and sorrowful.
And he saw himself, drenched in blood, standing atop a mountain of corpses.
Noah woke with a start, his chest heaving. His hands were glowing faintly, a soft, golden light that faded as quickly as it had appeared.
He stared at them, his heart pounding.
"What the hell is happening to me?"
Noah sat at the edge of his bed, staring at his trembling hands. The faint golden glow he'd seen earlier had vanished, but the memory of it lingered like a shadow. His dreams, the attack in the forest, Castor and Finn's words—it was all too much.
The morning light streamed through his window, doing little to shake the unease that clung to him. Across the room, his foster brother Jake barged in without knocking, his usual scowl firmly in place.
"Dana's yelling about breakfast, loser. Get downstairs," Jake said, tossing a basketball onto Noah's bed.
Noah didn't respond.
Jake frowned, stepping closer. "Hey, what's your problem?"
"Nothing," Noah said, forcing himself to sound normal.
Jake narrowed his eyes. "You look like you haven't slept in a week. What's going on?"
"Just leave me alone, Jake," Noah snapped, harsher than he intended.
Jake raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. Be a weirdo. Not my problem."
As Jake left, Noah sighed and rubbed his temples. He couldn't let anyone know what had happened—not until he figured it out himself.
---
Downstairs, the kitchen was alive with the usual chaos. Dana stood at the stove, flipping pancakes while yelling at Emma to put her phone away. Jake was already eating, his feet propped up on a chair.
"Morning, sunshine," Emma said, glancing at Noah as he sat down. Her pink hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she had a knowing smirk on her face. "Rough night?"
"You could say that," Noah muttered, grabbing a piece of toast.
Dana set a plate of pancakes in front of him and frowned. "Are you feeling okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine," Noah said quickly.
Dana gave him a skeptical look but didn't press further.
As the conversation shifted to Jake's basketball game that afternoon, Noah zoned out. His thoughts drifted back to the forest, to the two strangers who claimed to be his brothers. The more he tried to dismiss their words, the more they gnawed at him.
---
Later that day, Noah met Ryder at their usual spot behind the school gym. Ryder was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette and scrolling through his phone.
"You look like crap," Ryder said, putting his phone away.
"Thanks," Noah said dryly.
Ryder blew out a puff of smoke. "Seriously, what's going on? You've been acting weird since last night."
Noah hesitated. Ryder was his best friend, the one person he could trust, but even this seemed too crazy to share.
"It's nothing," Noah said finally.
Ryder raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? You disappeared into the woods, came back looking like you'd seen a ghost, and now you're lying through your teeth. Try again."
Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
Taking a deep breath, Noah relayed the events of the previous night—the attack, the two strangers, their bizarre claims about his identity. He left out the part about the glowing hands, not ready to explain that even to himself.
When he finished, Ryder stared at him, his cigarette forgotten.
"Okay," Ryder said slowly. "That's... a lot. Like, a lot a lot."
"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Noah said, his shoulders slumping.
Ryder shook his head. "Not crazy. Just... maybe someone spiked the punch last night?"
"I wasn't drinking," Noah snapped.
"Alright, alright," Ryder said, holding up his hands. "Look, let's say these guys are telling the truth. What does that make you, some kind of vampire god hybrid or something?"
"Apparently."
Ryder whistled low. "Damn. And I thought my family drama was bad."
---
Later that evening, Noah wandered into town, unable to sit still. The streets were quiet, the shops mostly closed. He found himself standing outside a small café with dimly lit windows and a flickering sign that read The Hollow Bean.
Curiosity tugged at him, and he stepped inside. The air smelled of coffee and cinnamon, and soft jazz played in the background. A handful of customers sat scattered around the room, but his eyes were drawn to the man behind the counter.
Finn.