Sarafina's POV
The next morning felt wrong.
Not in the Night Market is cursed way.
Not even in the a hybrid nearly tore a man apart for grabbing me way.
It was my head.
My mind.
Like something inside it hadn't quite closed after last night's terror. Like a door had been pushed open—and forgotten.
I stood in front of the classroom that afternoon, staring at my students as they worked silently, and for the first time, I wasn't hearing the scratching of pencils or shuffling papers.
I was hearing thoughts.
Not clear words. Not full sentences.
More like— flashes, tones, intentions
A ripple of emotion radiated off the room:
Anxiety. Boredom. Crush on someone in the second row. Worry about failing the test. Fear that the teacher would notice—
I flinched and almost dropped the marker.
The class looked up.
I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.
"Keep working. I'll… be right back."
I stepped into the hallway, letting the door click shut behind me. My heart hammered. My palms were damp.
"What is happening to me…"? I whispered.
The hum beneath my skin—the glow in my veins—felt hotter today. Louder. Like waking up had cost something.
I rested a hand on the wall.
And then—
A sharp spike of pain pierced behind my eyes, like a needle driven straight into my mind.
A voice that wasn't mine.
That wasn't thought, but intrusion.
"She wakes faster than predicted…"
I gasped and slammed my palm against the wall.
The voice vanished instantly.
This wasn't normal.
Not even by Night Market standards.
I fumbled for my phone, fingers trembling.
Cassian was the first contact staring back at me.
I hovered over his name.
But something deep in my chest—something instinctive—told me this wasn't something I should share. Not yet. Not with anyone.
Not even with him.
Not even with—
No.
I refused to think of Alistair.
By the time the sky went dark, the hum under my skin had settled… slightly.
Not enough.
Never enough.
I couldn't go home.
Not when I felt like this.
Not when a stranger's voice had invaded my mind.
Which is why i decided to pay the library a visit, I found myself walking past the Town's main library… and stopping in front of the old iron gate beside it.
The Forbidden Archive wasn't marked. It wasn't advertised.
But Vesper had once mentioned—too casually—that "the human world builds prisons around knowledge it doesn't want people touching."
And I needed answers.
The gate wasn't locked.
The air inside was cold, dust-scented, thick with age. My footsteps echoed against stone as I crept down the spiral stairs into a hall of forgotten books.
Candles flickered on their own.
Somewhere deeper in the dark, pages turned without being touched.
The floor vibrated faintly beneath me—like power slept under the building.
I swallowed hard.
"Okay, creepy library. Please be normal. Or normal-ish."
Shelves loomed around me, filled with books whose spines bore no titles. Some whispered. One sighed.
I ignored all of them.
Because something tugged me toward the back wall, where a single cracked tome lay open on a pedestal.
As if it had been waiting.
The pages glowed faint silver—
The same shade as my veins.
My stomach twisted.
I stepped closer.
The left page was torn through the middle, ripped violently—
And on the right, only a single line remained readable:
"When the star-veins awaken, the hunted shall become the herald."
The hunted.
Me.
The herald.
For what?
My fingertips brushed the page—
And suddenly the ink shimmered, rearranging itself into a second fragment:
"Only the sealed bloodline can unmake what was forbidden."
I stumbled back.
The sealed…ME
Bloodline.
Vesper's warning echoed in my skull.
Alistair's panic in the Market.
The way the stranger whispered Starlight.
The orb that recognized me.
Everything clicked into place in one horrible, shattering moment.
My blood wasn't just waking.
It was remembering.
And whatever memory it carried—
It terrified monsters.
Footsteps echoed behind me.
I spun, pulse spiking—
But the shadows in the hallway shifted in a way I recognized too well.
A familiar presence.
Too controlled.
Too quiet.
Too sharp.
"Alistair?" I whispered.
He stepped into the faint silver glow, expression unreadable, eyes dark with something that wasn't anger.
Or calm.
Something closer to fear.
Not for him.
For me.
"What did you find?" he asked softly.
I swallowed, the prophecy line burning behind my eyes.
"Something," I whispered.
"I don't think I was supposed to see."
His jaw tightened.
And for the first time since I met him—
Alistair looked like he was running out of time.