The day had been oddly calm. The ice cream, the light teasing, the shared laughter—it had all felt like a warm pause in a world slowly unraveling. But peace never lingered for long in Zaire Grimveil's life.
His phone buzzed.
He expected a meme from Elior or maybe a reminder from Reina about tomorrow's history project. But the moment he saw Reina's name flashing, something in his chest dropped.
"Zaire!" Her voice cracked through the line. "My father… he's been attacked. Someone broke into his office. He's... he's in the hospital. They say he lost a lot of blood—please… please come."
Zaire stood up so fast that his chair skidded back. Elior's face had gone pale too—he was already moving.
---
The hospital was a whirlpool of white lights, quiet weeping, and hurried footsteps. Reina clung to Zaire the moment he arrived, her face buried in his shoulder. Her tears soaked his collar, but he didn't move.
Elior stood beside them, silent but firm, a hand gently placed on Reina's back.
"What's the situation?" Zaire asked, keeping his voice steady.
"He's stable," said the doctor, eyes tired. "But there was heavy blood loss and… well, his left side's gone numb. Possibly long-term. We'll monitor it."
Rael, ever watchful, stirred slightly in his spiritual form beside Zaire. His voice echoed inside Zaire's mind: "There's something off about this… It wasn't just a robbery."
After spending time with Reina and offering what comfort he could, Zaire stepped out. Elior stayed with her. Zaire needed answers.
---
That night, the city streets were silent.
Rael shifted beside him, a misty specter cloaked in dark smoke. Zaire wore a black hoodie and a wrapped scarf to hide his identity.
They arrived at Reina's father's office. It was empty. Police tape waved in the wind.
Inside, it was chaos. Papers torn, artifacts shattered, and ancient books lay scattered across the floor like corpses. Zaire stepped carefully, eyes scanning.
Rael floated to a wall where an ancient painting hung crooked. It showed a radiant jewel embedded in the chest of a robed figure kneeling before Sekhmet. Lines of worshipers stood behind him. But now—
The jewel was gone.
Zaire's breath hitched. "Someone knew what they were doing."
Rael's eyes narrowed. "The Sekhmetian Eye. It's more than a relic… it's a key."
Zaire touched the spot on the canvas where the jewel had once been. Cold. Cleanly removed.
A sharp crack echoed behind them.
Both turned instantly. But the room was still.
Then came a voice. Not loud. Not from behind them. It whispered inside Zaire's mind.
"The war of bloodlines has begun. The Eye will return to its master."
Zaire clenched his fists. "They're coming after my friends now… because of me."
Rael hovered closer. "We're running out of time."
Zaire stared at the desecrated room—the shattered past. And somewhere in the shadows, something watched.
---
To be continued.