CHAPTER -1-
The night air weighed on him like lead, saturated with the metallic scent of hot blood and the stench of decaying corpses. The moon, pale and indifferent, cast a ghostly glow over the torn, snow-covered field, revealing the horrifying aftermath of merciless slaughter.
His fingers dug numbly into the frozen earth as he crawled among the mutilated bodies. His clothing snagged on shattered weapons, each touch sending searing pain through him. A dull metallic ringing vibrated in his ears, merging with the pounding of his own heart.
With effort, he raised his gaze. Through the haze of tears and exhaustion, he discerned two figures on a distant hill, engaged in a deadly dance of fate.
Something inside him shattered. He wiped his eyes with his filthy, tattered sleeve and knelt on his battered knees. He longed to see who would fall. His parched lips moved soundlessly, tasting the bitterness of his own thoughts.
The figure in black, splattered with blue stains and with matted hair, roared, splitting the night. His triumph echoed across the field of death. He had struck his blow. His eyes burned like hellfire, fixed on the fallen figure's silver hair.
In a moment of irresistible fury, his elegant black sword arced through the air, trailing droplets of the blood it had feasted upon, and sliced through flesh, cleaving the gleaming armor. A fountain of blue blood gushed across the snow, outpacing the collapsing body. An agonized scream startled the crows before fading into the wind's relentless howl.
The sinister black-clad figure loomed over the dying man, radiating sadistic pleasure at his victim's suffering. He remained motionless until the violet light in the silver-haired man's eyes dimmed, yielding to death's emptiness.
The dark one roared in triumph. He sheathed his sword, turning his back on the battlefield. He stepped over piles of torn bodies and pools of blue blood.
"Why?" he whispered, his cracked lips parting. A moan of pain, despair, and anguish barely carried on the battlefield's chaotic winds.
Timothy Harris jolted awake in bed, startled from his nightmare. He breathed heavily, sweat beading on his forehead. Running fingers through his damp hair, he tried to banish the dream's images. This nightmare haunted him night after night, alternating with three others that tormented him with relentless consistency.
Gradually, his pulse steadied and his breathing evened. The dream had revolved around two ominous figures battling across some blurred, devastated landscape. Something about it unsettled him deeply, as if it resonated in his very soul. He struggled to grasp the details, to penetrate their true meaning, but each time he tried to focus, the dream slipped away, leaving him with an overwhelming sense of dread.
With a sigh, Timothy rose and approached the window, gazing at the night sky. The stars twinkled faintly through the cosmic void, beyond human comprehension. He sought solace in their eternal beauty, but this time, unease clung to him. It grows stronger with each passing day, he thought. If this continues, my heart might not endure.
He inhaled deeply, gripped by a premonition of something terrifying. The stars blurred, the air vibrated. He shuddered as the unknown enveloped him.
Not again! Before his eyes, the familiar landscape dissolved, torn apart by a brightening band that expanded to reveal a panorama of an alien city. Skyscrapers reached toward the heavens, gleaming and futuristic, while machines darted across the cloudless sky. Timothy held his breath, awestruck by the sight. This wasn't his city—it was something entirely different, as if ripped from another reality.
He touched the glass, trying to discern where reality ended. Was this just another dream? His heart pounded violently, his palms sweating.
"This can't be real," he murmured, his voice trembling. "What in God's name..."
Suddenly, one of the flying machines veered off course and hurtled toward him at tremendous speed. The young man flinched and instinctively jumped back. The machine slowed, gliding smoothly until it hovered mere inches from the window. Timothy held his breath as a human figure emerged from its interior, bathed in bright blue light. He squinted, trying to make out details. The figure wore something resembling a spacesuit—sleek and polished. The helmet opened, and Timothy's eyes met two brilliant blue circles staring directly at him.
The young man froze. He couldn't tear his gaze from those piercing eyes. He wanted to flee, but his legs felt rooted. He squeezed his eyelids shut, took several deep breaths, and reopened them, hoping it would all vanish. It hadn't. He swallowed hard, fighting the intrusive sense that this wasn't just his imagination.
A knock at the door made him jump. His heart raced. He quickly returned to bed and ducked under the covers. The door opened, and in walked Anna Harris, the woman who had adopted and raised him as her own after his parents' death.
"Time for school, Tim," she smiled, as always. "Come on, get up. I know you hate being late."
Timothy blinked sleepily, trying to mask his agitation.
"I'll be ready in a minute," he forced calm into his voice and slowly sat up.
Once his mother left, Timothy returned to the window. He stared intently at the view outside. Everything was normal—the familiar houses, streets, and brightening sky. There was no trace of the futuristic city that had appeared moments before. Only the familiar outlines of his neighborhood remained.
What's happening to me, for God's sake? Timothy rubbed his temples dazedly. The sensations from his experience still lingered, etched deep into his consciousness.
He shook his head, trying to dispel these thoughts. He needed to focus on the day ahead—school, homework, friends. He couldn't afford distractions from dreams and delusions. This was the reality he lived in.
He dressed quickly, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and left the room. In the kitchen, Anna had already set the table—toasted bread, butter, cheese, and a glass of warm milk with honey.
"Morning, Tim!" She nodded toward the chair and the inviting breakfast. "Come on, eat up or you’ll be late."
Timothy sat down heavily, dropping his bag beside the table. He tried to act as natural as possible and dug into the bread with gusto. Anna sat across from him but didn’t start eating. Her gaze dissected him.
"Everything okay, sweetheart? You look distracted."
He glanced up at her. He wanted to tell her about the visions and dreams but decided it was better not to worry her with something that was probably just his imagination and raging hormones.
"I’m fine, Mom. Just thinking about... school. You know how much I hate math."
Anna reached across the table and ruffled his hair. She gave him one of her warm smiles and finally started eating.
"You’ll manage, sweetheart. You’re a smart boy. Now hurry up, or you’ll be late."
Minutes later, Timothy was crossing the familiar schoolyard. His gaze landed on an unfamiliar girl. She was about his age, standing apart from the gathering students. Clearly new—she was scanning her surroundings carefully, and she was strikingly beautiful. Thick raven-black hair framed her delicate face, and her jade-green eyes swept over the crowd in the yard. Timothy couldn’t look away. There was something mesmerizing about the way she moved and observed. The slight tilt of her head when she studied someone seemed unbearably sweet.
He noticed her glancing in his direction a few times but thought she might be looking at someone else. Then their eyes met, and he couldn’t break away. He was captivated by their depth. He didn’t know if he was imagining it, but for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of recognition. She was sizing him up. He felt awkward but also pleased he’d held her attention.
Who is she? Do I know her from somewhere? Definitely not. Timothy dismissed the thought and looked around.
Ah, there he is. He hurried toward Loren, who was waiting by the school entrance.
"Dude, what planet are you on? Why are you wandering around like a headless fly?" Loren grinned as Timothy approached. "So, what’s eating you?"
Timothy shot a quick glance at the girl, who still stood motionless, watching.
"You see that girl over there?" He nodded in her direction. "Never seen her at school before."
Loren followed his friend’s gaze and spotted the unfamiliar face.
"Ah, got it. Nice taste, man. But... nah, don’t know her." He winked teasingly. "Must be new. You think she’s... interesting?"
"Interesting?" Timothy repeated dreamily, still staring. "She was looking at me."
Loren grinned ear to ear and slapped his back.
"Why wouldn’t she, Tim? If a pretty girl looked at me, I’d be stoked, not worried." He smirked. "Maybe you should introduce yourself. See what happens."
Timothy considered his friend’s suggestion. The idea was tempting. There was something so compelling about this stranger it drove him crazy. He wanted to know more.
But before he could react, the girl turned sharply and walked toward the school building without so much as a glance their way. Timothy watched her disappear into the crowd of students and sighed.
Loren nudged him with an elbow.
"Nice one, champ. Real decisive. Can’t argue with that. Another missed opportunity."
Timothy frowned, confused by Loren’s teasing.
"I don’t know. There’s something... different about her."
"Well, then you should try. She just went inside. This time, don’t freeze up. Keep an eye out, man."
Timothy nodded and followed Loren into the school. As he walked, he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl.
Inside, he scanned the hallway carefully. He realized he was searching for the raven-haired girl but had lost her in the crowd. He sighed in disappointment and kept walking after Loren. The feeling from this morning—that today would be different—hadn’t left him.
As he moved down the familiar hallway, Timothy suddenly stopped dead, staring at something ahead. His heart raced, and his mouth fell open in shock. He was in a jungle. Birds shrieked, insects buzzed. Even a mosquito bit him. Then came a scream of terror—almost human. He looked up and watched a leopard descend from a nearby tree, a still-twitching monkey in its jaws.
"Come on, we’re late. Tim, dude, where’d you go this time?" The vision vanished, replaced by the same hallway and Loren’s annoyed face.
"Man, you’re hopeless. One girl and you’re already out of it. We’re late."
"Yeah, yeah, coming. Sorry, just—thought about Anna." Timothy tried to brush it off.
"Whatever. Let’s go." Loren opened the classroom door, and they stepped inside.
\ \ \*
Mrs. Dimitresco, their teacher, stood at the lectern, ready to begin class. She impatiently gestured for them to take their seats.
"Good morning, students," she greeted, setting down the folders she was carrying. "I have a special announcement. Today we're welcoming a new girl to our class. Please be kind and give a warm welcome to Thalia Gras."
Thalia entered the classroom, drawing everyone's attention with her exotic beauty. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders like black velvet, and her eyes gleamed like green forest emeralds. She slowly surveyed her new classmates, assessing them, before heading to the empty seat right in front of Timothy. There wasn't a trace of the nervousness typical of newcomers—no shyness, no discomfort. She radiated strength, and everyone felt it. Even the two Saras didn't exchange their usual snide remarks—their trademark when greeting a new student.
Timothy's heart skipped when Thalia sat down in front of him. He couldn't tear his eyes away, mesmerized by her presence.
"Welcome, Thalia," Mrs. Dimitresco smiled warmly and vaguely gestured toward the class. "I hope you'll gain new knowledge and achieve success at our school."
Thalia gave a slight smile without speaking. Timothy noted how every movement she made was deliberate, smooth, and graceful.
"Timothy," the teacher turned to him, snapping him out of his daze. "You'll be Thalia's partner for today's lesson. Help her get oriented and feel more comfortable."
Timothy swallowed hard but nodded, feeling his face flush.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, then turned to Thalia, pushing past his awkwardness. "Hi. Nice to meet you. I'm Timothy."
Thalia studied him with slightly narrowed eyes before responding.
"Thank you, Timothy," her voice was soft and gentle, and he found it incredibly appealing. "Pleasure to meet you too."
Timothy detected a faint accent but couldn't place it. He kept watching as she pulled out a notebook and pen, preparing for class. Ordinary actions, but to Timothy, each one was a display of extraordinary grace and restrained elegance.
God, what’s wrong with me? I’m staring at her like a lovestruck idiot. He forced himself to look back at the teacher.
The lesson began, but Timothy couldn’t focus on Mrs. Dimitresco’s words. His attention kept drifting back to Thalia.
As the teacher explained the new topic, Thalia raised her hand.
"Excuse me, ma’am," she straightened slightly in her seat. "I’m already familiar with this material. May I be excused from the lesson?"
Mrs. Dimitresco paused, momentarily thrown by the interruption, but quickly composed herself and nodded.
"Of course, Thalia. If you’ve already covered this, you may work independently. Let me know if you need anything."
Thalia sat back down and began writing in her notebook. Timothy watched, fascinated by the way a stray lock of hair fell forward, brushing the page. He wondered what she was writing and why she’d admitted to being ahead. It didn’t make sense to him.
As if sensing his gaze, Thalia turned and met his eyes. Timothy flinched and looked away, but not before catching a strange glint in her eyes. She tilted her head slightly before returning to her notes. His cheeks burned. He didn’t know why, but her presence made him feel like he was walking on eggshells.
The lesson continued in silence, broken only by Mrs. Dimitresco’s voice. Timothy tried to focus, but his thoughts kept circling back to Thalia. He stole glances as she wrote intently, unfazed by the classroom noise. Her calm, detached presence unsettled him—and yet, it drew him in like a magnet.
Suddenly, the world around him began to blur. The outlines of the classroom smeared and wavered, as if seen through a veil. Oh God, not again. He blinked dizzily, watching as the walls dissolved, revealing a familiar scene—the towering cityscape with its jagged skyscrapers. The sky had an unnatural violet hue, crisscrossed by flying machines emitting blue lights. Timothy blinked in disbelief. I’ve seen this before.
One of the aircrafts dove downward, heading straight for him at breakneck speed. This time, he didn’t flinch. He’d been through this before. He focused, trying to memorize details. The machine came so close he could see through its transparent hull—inside sat a figure clad in a gleaming blue-and-white suit. The craft veered sharply and disappeared. Timothy blinked rapidly, struggling to process what was happening. He took a deep breath.
The classroom’s outlines began to solidify again, the city fading away. He exhaled slowly, his forehead damp with sweat.
He glanced around cautiously. No one seemed to have noticed—except the new girl. Thalia had turned slightly toward him, her narrowed eyes studying him. Silently, her lips formed, "Are you okay?" Timothy swallowed hard, embarrassed she’d seen him like this. He nodded stiffly and stared down at his open notebook, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.
Mrs. Dimitresco continued the lesson.
What the hell is happening to me? Why am I seeing these things? And why does Thalia keep looking at me like that? It’s like she knows. He glanced at her again, but this time, it was Thalia who quickly averted her eyes to her notebook.
\ \ \*
The moment the bell announced the end of class, Thalia sprang to her feet and darted toward Timothy.
"Can we talk for a second?" she asked in a quiet yet assured voice.
The boy swallowed hard, his nerves pulled taut like guitar strings.
"Sure," he replied, aiming for nonchalance. To his surprise, she gripped his wrist, yanked him upright, and steered him aside—away from their classmates’ prying eyes. Timothy followed in stunned silence, unnerved by her sudden closeness and the fact that she had initiated it. When she finally whirled around to face him, their bodies brushed. A spark jumped between them, and he shuddered.
"I noticed you had… unusual experiences during class." She didn’t flinch, holding his gaze. "You see things others can’t, don’t you?"
Timothy stiffened, horrified. How could she know about the visions tormenting him?
"No clue what you’re talking about," he lied, but his voice cracked.
"Don’t bullshit me." Her calm tone burned. "I saw your face. It was written all over you." She pointed to his temple, scanned the room, then leaned in. "I see things not of this world too. And I’m pretty sure you do as well."
He gaped, pulse hammering. Every instinct screamed run.
"You’re insane."
"Oh, I’m many things, but not insane." Her smile disarmed him—radiant and relentless. Maybe it was that, or her unshakable confidence, but the words spilled out:
"If you know something, please tell me," he whispered, glancing around. "I don’t understand what’s happening to me."
She closed the distance until their chests touched. Her palm pressed into his shoulder, steadying him as he trembled.
"I’ll explain. But not here. Meet me after school, and I’ll show you exactly what’s going on." Her tone left no room for doubt—nor did the way she lingered mere inches from him.
"You’re sure you’re not crazy?"
Her grin widened, revealing pearl-white teeth. His gaze snagged on her lips, tinted soft blue-pink. He gulped, suddenly terrified of his own question. Adrenaline writhed under his skin. He needed answers… but dreaded them.
She didn’t answer. Her glossy hair swished as she strode back to class, leaving him stranded in his turmoil. Timothy stared after her.
What the hell does she know about me? And why offer to ‘show me’… whatever this is? Questions spiraled, unresolved.
Mechanically, he stumbled into the hallway, gasping for air. Outside, he inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself. Should I go? He needed answers—yet following her felt reckless. We met five minutes ago. Loren’s mocking grin flashed in his mind.
When the bell rang, he trudged back inside. His eyes found Thalia already seated. Across the room, Loren’s stare prickled his neck. As Timothy passed, Loren snagged his wrist.
"You good, man?"
"Peachy," Timothy croaked.
Loren’s skeptic glare held, but he let go without another word. Timothy slumped into his seat, now twice as unsettled. Reluctantly, his thoughts circled back: She’s unhinged. But the prettiest ‘unhinged’ I’ve ever seen. And we might be singing the same cursed tune. He barely stifled a laugh. His lips twitched. What’s she hiding? And why zero in on me?
The moment classes ended, he bolted from the classroom. He didn't want to talk to Thalia again—not now, not so soon after everything that had happened earlier. He barged into the boys' restroom and locked himself in a stall. His heart pounded violently against his ribs. Squeezing his eyes shut did nothing to stop the images spinning behind his eyelids. Then it happened again—the familiar blurring of edges, and suddenly he stood engulfed by that alien world of skyscrapers and flying vehicles. The pressure of the vision crushed him, drowning him in disorientation.
Through the haze, footsteps approached. Someone jiggled the stall door handle. The shock snapped him back to reality, and to his immense relief, the vision dissolved.
"Timothy? You in there?" He recognized that voice—Thalia.
His body turned to stone. Half of him wanted to face her and demand answers; the other half screamed to stay hidden.
"I know you're in there," she continued, firmer this time. "Open up. Come on, don't be a child."
Timothy swallowed hard, hesitating. But when his peripheral vision began warping again—when the outlines of that impossible city sharpened—he knew hiding was pointless. Slowly, he unlatched the door and stumbled out, finding immediate relief as the vision dissipated. So stress disrupts it, he noted.
Thalia studied him calmly, making his cheeks burn with shame.
"Look, I…"
"Tell me exactly what you see," she interrupted, stepping closer. "I want to help."
After a pause, he relented. "I... see things that aren't real," he murmured. "Like I'm in another world. Earlier, it was a city—skyscrapers, flying cars. And just now..." He trailed off, suppressing the memory.
"I see." Her piercing gaze held him. "Is that all? No other sensations? Urges?"
"Well..." He dropped his eyes. "Sometimes, when I'm stressed, it's like I can..." He fumbled for words. "...hear people's thoughts."
"Interesting." Thalia tilted her head. "That's rare for this stage."
Timothy jerked his head up. "What stage? What's wrong with me?"
"You're healthy," she said, grasping his wrist. "Just different. Don't you get it?"
She paused, gauging his reaction.
"I have abilities too. I'm..." Something unreadable flickered across her face. "I'm Lemurian, Tim. Like you. You're Awakening. Soon, you'll be just like us."
His eyes widened. Lemurian? What the hell does that mean? Is this a diagnosis or just insanity?
Before he could demand answers, the restroom door slammed open. Loren skidded to a halt, blinking at them. "Tim? Dude, why’s Thalia…" His grin turned sly. "Ohhh."
"Nothing," Timothy yanked his hand back. "Just... talking."
Loren’s eyes narrowed, but he shrugged. "C’mon, man. We’re late for practice. Later, Thalia."
Timothy threw one last bewildered glance at Thalia as she whispered, "We’ll talk tonight."
Nodding stiffly, he followed Loren out—more lost than ever.
\ \ \*
When Timothy returned home, he found his usual evening routine no longer brought him familiar comfort. The moment he stepped into his room, he sensed a change—the air itself seemed to vibrate. He had the distinct feeling of being watched. Pressing his back against the closed door, he scanned the room frantically. Yet everything appeared exactly as he'd left it—his belongings in their usual places, the bed neatly made, the window overlooking the quiet street outside. He swallowed hard, struggling to steady his rapid breathing.
Calm down, Tim, calm down, he thought. You’re imagining things. Don’t let panic take over. But the nagging sense of another presence refused to fade.
Timothy edged cautiously toward the window and peered outside. Nothing seemed amiss. The streetlights cast their familiar yellowish glow, and in the distance, the familiar hum of passing cars droned on. He exhaled and turned, ready to call it a night. But as his gaze fell upon the bed, he jerked back in shock. There, traced as if by an invisible hand, lay an intricate glyph—a complex geometric pattern of interwoven lines. He blinked several times, unable to trust his own eyes.
"How the hell did that get there? It wasn’t there a second ago."
Slowly, he approached the bed, his eyes locked on the sudden marking. He reached out—intending to touch it—but recoiled at the last second, gripped by horror. The symbol seemed alive, its lines pulsing with a faint, ghostly light as if reacting to his proximity. Timothy stumbled backward, his heart galloping like a spooked horse.
"What the hell is going on?" The glyph, this unnatural glow—it was eerie, downright supernatural. He stood frozen, eyes riveted to the bed. Every fiber of his body tensed, primed for instant reaction. Then, a flicker at the edge of his vision caught his attention. His focus sharpened abruptly, the peripheral disturbance vanished, and he found himself standing by the window again.
Ugh. Just a hallucination. He steadied himself with a sharp breath. These sudden shifts between reality and unreality were becoming routine. Snatching a sheet of paper and a pencil from his desk, he feverishly began sketching the symbol before it dissolved completely from his memory.
CHAPTER -2-
Saturday. Usually, there’s nothing sweeter. But not this one—not for Timothy. Tormented by visions after a whole day of struggling with them, he decided to step outside despite the rainy weather and the approaching evening.
Hopping over puddles like a cat on hot coals, he crossed the street, heading straight for his favorite café. He hoped that immersing himself in the familiar, noisy atmosphere would clear his head of the confusing visions and memories threatening to blur the edges of reality.
He nearly burst through the door of Under the Silver Pine. Breathless and soaked, the warm aroma of freshly ground coffee and crispy bacon sandwiches teased his senses, coaxing a smile from him. The muffled hum of quiet conversations and the melodic clinking of cups led him toward the calm he craved.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting, softened by muted bulbs and the flickering flames of tabletop candles. He barely noticed the raindrops sliding off him and onto the polished floor. His steps carried him toward the familiar wooden tables and cozy booths tucked in the corners.
Then his gaze locked onto a familiar figure—Thalia, sitting alone in the corner. She was staring right at him. He swallowed hard, his nerves tightening like strings. Hesitating for just a second, he made his way to her table.
Thalia seemed to have been expecting him. A faint smile touched her lips as he approached.
"I’m glad you came."
Timothy instinctively glanced around, his shoulders relaxing slightly at the sight of the familiar interior—the warm wooden furniture, the elegant paintings on the walls. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled his nose, injecting a strange surge of confidence.
He sat across from her.
"What do you want from me?"
The girl shot him a sharp look with her piercing green eyes before answering.
"Accusatory and direct? Fine, let’s lay it all out."
She straightened, placing her hands on the table.
"You’re experiencing something unusual, aren’t you? Something you can’t explain."
Timothy swallowed hard, tension coiling inside him. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Thalia, yet at the same time, he felt she might be the only one who could help him make sense of what was happening.
"How do you know about... that?"
His voice was weary, the strain obvious.
"I have a sharp eye. And I’m perceptive. I see there’s more to you—more than even you realize."
A waitress approached, carrying two cups of coffee.
"Double espresso, just how you like it."
With a practiced smile, she set the cups down.
"Can I get you anything else?"
"No, thank you, Emma. That’ll be all for now."
Thalia flashed an equally rehearsed smile. Emma nodded, smiled at Timothy, and retreated to the counter where new orders awaited.
Timothy picked up his cup but didn’t drink—instead, he fixed Thalia with a stare.
"What do you mean by 'more'?"
Thalia’s gaze lingered on his cup. She sensed, more than saw, the slight tremor in his hand.
"I’ll explain. But you should know—it’s going to sound strange. Impossible. You’ll think I’m... what was the word? 'Crazy,' right?"
She smirked when he visibly flinched, nearly spilling his coffee.
"And of course, you’ll deny it."
Timothy swallowed, the hairs on his neck standing on end. Yet his curiosity sharpened. Maybe Thalia had the answers he needed. And how the hell does she know?
"Fine. I’m listening."
He tried to steady his voice.
Thalia nodded, and in her eyes, Timothy caught a sudden spark of intensity.
"To start—you’re not human. You’re... Lemurian."
"Excuse me?"
He nearly jumped out of his seat.
"Sit down and relax. You’re Lemurian."
She waved a dismissive hand.
"And what’s that supposed to mean?"
Quietly and firmly, Thalia explained that he wasn’t human at all—he was a descendant of an alien race. Timothy sat there, stunned. His grip tightened around the cup, his eyes wide. It was too absurd, too unreal.
"What? Lemurian? You’re messing with me, right?"
His voice came out unnaturally high-pitched.
Thalia shook her head and continued calmly.
"I get how it sounds. I wondered how to tell you. And I realized there’s no easy way. So I’m being blunt. You’re not human. My blood runs in your veins."
Timothy took a sip of coffee, trying to steady himself. His hands trembled. He cradled the cup with both hands, the heat from the espresso seeping into his palms. Steam curled up, obscuring his view of Thalia’s sharp gaze.
"No... no, that can’t be true. I’m... I’m just a guy from goddamn Silverpine Hollow. I go to school, I had parents... How can I be an alien?"
Thalia reached out, touching his palm in an attempt to soothe him.
"All of that is true—almost. You grew up human because we chose that path. We created you, and our blood, our power, flows in you. You’re one of our creations, and you’re here for a purpose—an important one."
Timothy shook his head, pulling away from her touch.
"No, I can’t believe that. I’m just... just Timothy. Nothing else."
Thalia sighed.
"I told you—you'd deny it. I know it's confusing for you. You'll need to process it first, then accept it. You're far from an ordinary boy. You're Lemurian, and as such, you possess abilities that seem impossible by Earth's standards. You just don't realize them yet. That's exactly why I'm here—to help you discover your true nature. To guide you through this transition."
Timothy shook his head, refusing to accept her words.
"No, I can't believe this. Please, just... leave me alone. I need to go."
He stood abruptly from the table, nearly knocking over his coffee. Thalia watched him with sorrowful eyes as he bolted for the exit.
"Timothy, wait!"
She called after him, but he was already gone, vanishing through the door and leaving her alone in the nearly empty café.
Timothy burst outside, swallowed by the cold, damp evening. The rain poured relentlessly, but he barely felt it. His mind raced, struggling to process everything Thalia had revealed.
A Lemurian? He was Timothy Harris. A guy from Silver Pine. There was no way he was some alien being. It couldn’t be true.
He quickened his pace down the street, desperate to escape it all. He didn’t want to believe her—couldn’t. Yet, a quiet voice inside whispered that she was telling the truth. She had been so certain, and those visions, those inexplicable abilities... they all pointed to something greater.
He ran. Faster. Farther. But he couldn’t outrun this. Everything he knew was crumbling. Nothing felt certain anymore. He was someone he didn’t even recognize. A wave of uncertainty crashed over him.
He stopped dead in the middle of the street. The icy night wind lashed raindrops like needles against his face. They streamed down, soaking into his collar. He didn’t feel the cold. Distant music and laughter from nearby bars muffled beneath the pounding pulse in his ears. His entire world had tilted, reality fractured irreparably by a single conversation.
His thoughts were a storm—whirling, chaotic, drowning him in confusion, doubt, and fear.
He remembered the strange visions haunting him lately—exotic landscapes, unfamiliar creatures, intense emotions that weren’t his. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady the tempest in his mind. If Thalia was right, it meant his entire life had been a lie. That everything he knew was just a façade hiding his true self.
Why had he lived in ignorance for so long? What had they kept from him? And what "mission" was Thalia talking about? Or was she just playing him, exploiting his vulnerability?
Timothy opened his eyes, staring into the dark sky above. The rain seemed to wash away his hesitation. He had to know the truth. He couldn’t just run back to the safety of his old life. How could he run from himself? From the memories, the feelings surging through him—all of it led to something he needed to understand.
Slowly, he turned. His gaze locked onto the distant door where Thalia still waited. He took a step, then another, nearly breaking into a run. Each stride hardened his resolve. He had to hear her out. Had to learn who he really was. Because if she was telling the truth, his life would never be the same again.
Timothy stormed back into Under the Silver Pine. His heart hammered against his ribs. His eyes darted to the corner table where he met Thalia’s gaze.
He crossed the room in quick strides and dropped into the seat across from the girl who had shattered his world. Thalia never looked away.
"I'm sorry," Timothy muttered. The words came out strained. "I overreacted. Everything you said is just... unbelievable."
"I understand. I didn’t expect it to be easy."
She paused, weighing her next words.
"The truth isn’t always a welcome guest. And when it’s a revelation—when you’re told you carry the blood of an alien race in your veins... it gets even harder."
Timothy clenched his fists on the table, trying to hide the tremor in his hands.
"Let’s say it’s true. Tell me more about them." His voice wavered. "What are the Lemurians? And why do you think I’m one of them?"
Thalia leaned forward slightly. Her face grew intent, eyes gleaming.
"The Lemurians are an ancient race. As you’ve guessed, we’re far more advanced than humanity. More than that—my ancestors created life on Earth, including the human race."
Timothy swallowed hard, struggling to absorb her words.
"I’m just some ordinary guy…"
Thalia reached out, pressing her palm to his, firmer this time.
"You could say that a thousand times, and it still wouldn’t make you ordinary, Timothy."
Timothy shook his head, rejecting her words. His ears rang, his lips went dry. He could barely breathe.
"Calm down. I know how hard this is to accept. You’ll unlock what’s inside you. You’ve been seeing memories that aren’t yours, haven’t you?"
He gave a quick nod, fighting for control.
"But they are yours—just from another past. You just haven’t realized it yet."
Something in him rebelled, as if provoked by the tension and Thalia’s words. The memories she spoke of began surfacing—images of alien worlds, recollections of inexplicable power surging through him. He shook his head, trying to dispel them.
"No. I can’t be Lemurian."
"Whether you accept it or not, you are. You have to embrace it and move forward."
Thalia’s gaze turned sorrowful.
"And then... you’ll change this world."
Timothy was about to snap back when he hesitated. Suddenly, he felt something within him shift. A veil lifted from his mind, his senses sharpening. An unfamiliar power surged through him. The noise in his head amplified. A man seated two tables away was particularly loud. Timothy turned. His gaze locked onto the man wearing an absurdly dark gray woolen vest over a green shirt. He heard the loudly spoken words, yet the man's lips didn't move. He sensed his emotions. What the hell? I think I'm hearing his thoughts. He gasped, confused and shaken.
Thalia watched him intently, as if she'd anticipated this moment.
"Hah! But that... that's impossible," Timothy muttered, his voice trembling.
"You can do things like this too?"
"Absolutely. You're Lemurian."
Amused sparks danced in Thalia's eyes.
"This is just the first manifestation of your abilities. And I'll say it again—I'm here to help you understand and master them."
Timothy stared at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. Barriers in his mind crumbled, an inexplicable confidence swelling within him. The power grew, rising to the surface of his consciousness, undeniable now. He was no ordinary boy. He was Lemurian. Still bewildered and partly terrified, Timothy lifted his eyes to Thalia.
She tracked the emotions playing across his face—every twitch betraying the turmoil inside.
"What's happening to you is a common process for us. Think of it as... Lemurian puberty."
The boy gaped at her, swallowing hard.
"And you expect me to just accept this? That my entire life has been a lie? How am I supposed to process that I'm some alien creature, not even human?"
His hand trembled slightly, almost in sync with his left eyelid. Noticing the nervous tic, Thalia reached out and steadied his shaking fingers.
"It's difficult, I know. Shocking, even. But this is your reality."
"Why me? Why was I chosen to be one of you?"
Timothy shook his head, pulling back slightly from her touch.
Thalia exhaled deeply before answering.
"You weren't chosen." She smiled cryptically. "That's not how it works. You were created. You're part of the 'Kakavida' program—a project we've pinned our hopes on. You're one of our designs, the first of the new Lemurians. Made to help our race survive. To rise and fight the enemies threatening this world."
Timothy clenched his jaw, wrestling with the storm of emotions—anger at being used, fear of his newfound abilities, yet fascination at having a greater purpose.
"So you're saying I'm... some test-tube experiment? Engineered to serve your race's agenda?" he asked bitterly.
Thalia shook her head.
"No. You are not an experiment. Your creation follows our traditions here on Earth. This is how we evolve. We craft a generation by carefully selecting genes, then carry the fetus in a human woman. So the future Lemurian understands humans, relates to them."
"So my parents…"
"They were meant to raise you until maturity."
"You're telling me they weren't my biological parents?" Timothy's voice edged on panic. "They weren't my real parents?"
Thalia shook her head.
"They raised you. Loved you until their dying day."
Timothy gritted his teeth against the whirlwind inside.
"And my whole life has been one giant lie? Everything I believed—just deception?"
Thalia touched his palm again, trying to soothe him.
"You know they loved you genuinely. What they gave you—love, care, upbringing—was real. The only untruth was your origin. And even they didn't know."
"At least they didn't lie to me."
"They didn't. You were conceived in vitro. I performed the switch myself, and I swear they suspected nothing."
"You?"
"Exactly."
Thalia sighed, understanding how painful this was for him. How hard to process.
"How old are you, to have…"
"Our biological time is different. We have technology that lets us regenerate."
"But still, will you tell me?"
"I don't track it anymore. Let's just say when I first arrived in this planet's orbit, the Moon didn't exist."
"But that's—!"
He couldn't even fathom it.
"I've spent long periods in stasis. Lately, I've needed frequent regeneration."
"I won't ask about that."
"You must try to see things differently."
Timothy looked down at his hands again, thoughts and emotions churning. Betrayed, disillusioned, yet filled with a rising power he couldn't deny. His life would never be the same.
"So... I'm Lemurian. What does that mean? How will my life change?"
Thalia smiled more brightly now.
"You possess—or will possess—abilities like telepathy, telekinesis, regeneration. Though we're genetically similar to humans, there are differences."
"If I have these, I don't know how to control them. How to handle this. How to be Lemurian."
Thalia took his hand.
"I'll teach you. Guide you through our practices. Prepare you for the challenges ahead."
He searched her eyes, seeing genuine intent to help.
"Why? Why help me? Why care?"
"Because you need support," she said, squeezing his hand encouragingly.
"I hope you'll be the key to our future. The hope for our people—and all sentient beings on this planet. And I'll do everything to ready you for what's coming."
Timothy fell silent, weighing her words. Part of him still resisted this bizarre truth. Yet something deeper stirred—a connection, as if something had found its way home.
With a quiet sigh, he nodded.
"Alright. I'll try to accept this. But..." He paused, meeting her keen gaze.
"Don't expect it to happen overnight."
Thalia smiled, as if she'd expected this.
"Don't worry. I know this will be quite a journey for you. I'll be with you every step."
She squeezed his hand, her eyes unexpectedly resolute. Timothy felt that warmth begin to spread through him—as if claiming it for his own.
\ \ \*
Sebastian Mornau left the office provided for him and strode briskly down the corridor of the Stellar Clan's luxurious residence. His footsteps echoed against the marble floor, betraying his impatience. Time was working against him, and he needed to act immediately to secure the necessary support for the upcoming elections.
Entering the spacious meeting hall, Sebastian cast a quick, assessing glance around. He nodded to the hostess, Amara Viktorova—leader of the Stellar Clan—and offered a slight bow to the representatives of the Sakura Clan seated around the massive oak table.
"Thank you, Amara, for arranging this meeting. I know time is precious for everyone, so I appreciate your responsiveness."
Mornau scanned the attendees with a penetrating gaze before continuing:
"I requested this meeting because we face a critical challenge requiring decisive action."
He paused, letting his words resonate in the room.
"As you know, we are about to elect a new Council Chairman. This is a pivotal moment for the future of our vampire society. I believe I am the right candidate to shoulder this responsibility."
Amara Viktorova leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving him. When he paused, she interjected:
"Sebastian, I welcome your ambition and acknowledge your leadership qualities." She glanced at the Sakura representatives. "But you can’t unilaterally push your candidacy. You need to secure the necessary majority in the Council. Without that, it would be pointless."
Mornau narrowed his eyes, having anticipated this. He knew that despite the Stellar and Sakura Clans being his closest allies, their territorial friction would make it difficult to unite them behind his cause. Both clans would demand concessions.
"You’re absolutely right, dear Amara," he said, his voice controlled. "To succeed, I need your support. Why don’t we unite our efforts behind a shared candidacy? Together, we could ensure stability for the Council."
Amara pretended to consider the proposal while discreetly observing the Sakura representatives’ impassive faces. Noticing a slight nod from one of them, she responded immediately:
"That sounds reasonable. I assume this shared candidacy would be yours? Of course, we’ll need to discuss the details. We’ll want key positions in the new leadership."
Mornau suppressed a smile. He’d have to make some concessions, but the end result would be worth it. If he secured the backing of the Stellar and Sakura Clans, his chances of victory would skyrocket.
"Naturally, we’ll discuss everything. Let’s lay your demands on the table and reach a fair agreement." He gestured toward the table.
The Sakura representatives exchanged glances before one of them spoke:
"How do we remove Kornil from the race for the Chairmanship?"
Mornau nodded thoughtfully. Kornil was a formidable opponent with solid backing from certain clans. He hadn’t officially declared his candidacy yet, but it was clear as day he would.
"Kornil and Bartoldo have been—and will remain—our common adversaries. I’ll handle Kornil." He scanned the room. "But in return, I need your full support for my candidacy."
Amara Viktorova smiled.
"And will you, in turn, support me against Bartoldo’s arrogance and his clan’s encroachments in South America?"
"You have my word. Clan Mornau will stand shoulder to shoulder with the Stellar Clan on this matter."
"Then we have an agreement. The Stellar Clan will stand behind you, Sebastian. Together, we’ll secure victory."
Mornau returned a satisfied smile. An alliance with the Stellar and Sakura Clans would be pivotal for his campaign. Now, he just had to deal with Kornil.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, sensing he had already gained a decisive edge in the race for the Vampire Council’s Chairmanship.
"Excellent." He nodded. "We have a solid foundation for our coalition. Now, I must ensure Kornil is removed from the equation."
Turning to Amara Viktorova, his eyes narrowed.
"I have some ideas on how to discredit Kornil before the other clans. I’ll reach out to my contacts and take the necessary steps against him."
Amara nodded, clearly pleased despite the lack of specifics. She couldn’t expect more from Sebastian.
"We’re counting on you, Sebastian. Kornil is a tough nut to crack, and he must be neutralized if you’re to succeed."
"Don’t worry." Mornau smiled thinly. "I’ll make sure Kornil is taken out of the game. Our coalition will emerge victorious."
He stood and offered a slight bow to the Sakura representatives, respecting their Japanese heritage. On his way out, he signaled for Amara to follow.
"Let’s discuss the details of our plan. The faster we act, the better."
As the two walked down the corridor, Mornau felt a surge of exhilaration. Amara would be easy to manage, and as for the Sakura… they were an open book to him. Once they gave their word, they wouldn’t renege, and their demands—likely control over Sakhalinsk—were predictable. He was one step closer to realizing his dream of supreme power.
\ \ \*
The twilight enveloped the majestic Dusken Fortress in London—ancient sanctuary of the mighty MacAster vampire clan. Michael Cornell, their leader and contender for the Council's presidency, paced his office with hands clasped behind his back. His gaze settled on an ornate metal staff in the corner, its crystalline tip emitting a soft azure glow. A relic from the long-lost Lemurian civilization, it held secrets Cornell could only speculate about.
His attention shifted to the screen, where Thalia Grace awaited him motionless. Her long cerulean robe contrasted with her raven-black hair and emerald eyes, depths in which Cornell always lost himself.
"I sense the eastern clans will back Mornau. If I don’t stop him in time, my efforts will be for nothing," he muttered.
Thalia nodded, her voice soothing:
"Mornau is a dangerous opponent, but are you overestimating him? Ambitious, yes, but not dishonorable."
Cornell narrowed his eyes:
"I’m not afraid of Mornau! But he’ll ruin any chance of an alliance between vampires and Lemurians."
Locking eyes with Thalia, as if seeking approval, he continued fervently:
"If Mornau lifts the ban on studying your technology, he’ll pour all the Council’s resources into hunting your remnants. It’ll be catastrophic. I must stop him."
The door burst open, and Ricardo Bartoldo, a loyal ally from Clan Bartoldo, stormed in. His tall frame and grim expression heralded ill news.
"Mornau made his first move! He’s forged an official alliance with the Stellar and the Sakura. Stopping him now is nearly impossible."
Cornell clenched his fists, mastering his rage. He turned to Thalia:
"This complicates things. With their support, Mornau’s a step from victory. I’ve lost."
"Not true," Thalia mused. "You still have a chance if you act shrewdly—without open confrontation."
Bartoldo interjected, visibly furious:
"And just stand by?! If Mornau takes the seat, we won’t oppose him later. My clan will be the first to suffer."
"Thalia’s right, Ricardo," Cornell raised a calming hand. "Mornau isn’t easily broken. We must outmaneuver him in this game."
He hesitated before adding quietly:
"I hope it doesn’t come to it, but if all else fails... extreme measures may be necessary."
A light knock interrupted them. His secretary entered, casting a quick glance at the assembled.
"What is it, Greta?"
The girl hesitated:
"Mr. Cornell, Hakim al-Hajj of Clan Asp is here. He demands an urgent meeting."
"Send him in. Clan Asp is always welcome in our humble home. Loyal allies."
Seconds later, Hakim’s imposing figure filled the threshold. He nodded at Ricardo and studied the unfamiliar woman on-screen intently. Only Cornell knew her true nature—to others, Thalia was merely his trusted strategist. Hakim gave a slight bow.
"On my way here, I heard of Mornau’s alliance with the Stellar and Sakura. The situation is critical."
A heavy silence fell. Cornell broke it first, his voice deliberate:
"With this alliance, Mornau gains immense power. We’ll stop him only by marshaling all resources—correctly. We’ll need your contacts and people, Hakim."
Hakim nodded slowly, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Cornell:
"Clan Asp will support you. Mornau leading the Council isn’t in our interest. Our elders deem the risk too great."
"Your elders, as always, show admirable wisdom," Cornell surveyed the room. He didn’t know if he could fully trust them, but he had no choice. "Clan MacAster, with Asp and Bartoldo’s support, will field its own candidate. Let’s plan our first moves..."
Cornell outlined his strategy to discredit Mornau and rally allies. A fierce battle for every Council vote loomed.
Midnight passed. Tense silence gripped Cornell’s office. A few candles cast flickering shadows over his exhausted face. He sat brooding behind his massive oak desk, an untouched whiskey glass before him. Ricardo and Hakim had left, each burdened with their part of the plan. Only Thalia remained, silently observing from the screen.
Cornell’s gaze lifted to the ancient staff. It reminded him why he’d taken this path—preserving the fragile balance and peace.
"Thalia," he called her attention. "I need to know more about Mornau. Could he have uncovered traces of your knowledge or technology?"
Something flickered in her otherworldly green eyes before she answered in that mesmerizing voice:
"Possible, though unlikely. Mornau is obsessed with ancient history and artifacts. He truly believes our people possessed unparalleled energy sources. Which, of course, is true. If he accesses even one, his ambitions will soar. I can’t foresee the consequences, but they won’t be good. For now, our bases are secure—he hasn’t breached them."
Cornell pinched his brow and paced.
"Then we stop him at all costs. We can’t let him lead the Council, especially with Lemurian tech. The risk is too high."
Thalia shook her head, unperturbed:
"Even if you thwart him now, Mornau is relentless. He won’t give up easily. This won’t sate his hunger for power."
"You’re right. Let’s hope Bartoldo and Hakim’s spy networks prove pivotal."
"With their help, you cover South America, Africa, and through your clan—Europe and parts of Asia."
He slammed a fist on the desk:
"If necessary, I’ll force an open clash with Mornau. I’m prepared for that."
Thalia pierced him with a look:
"That would weaken the vampires. No one benefits from such bloodshed. You must remain strong. A far greater threat approaches. I’ll support you, whatever it takes—but think rationally. Even consider... me meeting Sebastian Mornau."
She glanced at the staff:
"That’s the same weapon that saved us centuries ago. A symbol of our resolve. Let’s not forget the true enemy, Michael."
"You opened my eyes back then." Cornell smiled, recalling how he’d lunged at Thalia, oblivious to the surviving mechanized warrior’s threat. Without her, he’d be dead. He nodded admiringly at his Lemurian ally. For justice and balance, he’d stand firm against Mornau.
Dawn’s first rays filtered through Gothic windows. Morning brought a promise—of triumph or ruin.
London’s streets glistened with spring dew as Ricardo Bartoldo left Dusken Fortress. His broad frame was cloaked in black, the fabric billowing behind his confident stride toward his car.
He bore a vital task—activating his vast network of informants to gather intel on Sebastian Mornau’s movements. This was their chance to halt his rise. They had to discredit him before his Stellar and Sakura allies.
He slid into the car and nodded at the driver. The vehicle sped toward the airport.
"Time for action," Bartoldo growled into his phone. "Don’t underestimate him—he’s ruthless and stops at nothing."
If Cornell loses, I won’t hold my clan’s territory alone. Sebastian’s appetite for South America is insatiable. And the Stellar—they’ve eyed Chile for ages. Damn it all! He struck the armrest. These thoughts enraged him. As if cartels weren’t enough, now Lord Radu Vladislav withdraws. ‘Too old,’ the fossil says. The man’s been ancient for two millennia! Why retire now?