Chapter 4: The Awakening Begins
The aftermath of the summer party lingered like wildfire in both schools—St. Luthor's Private Academy and East Crescent Public High. Gossip swirled, fueled by curious glances, whispers, and a single viral video that spread like lightning across every group chat, forum, and student feed in San Francisco.
It showed Morningstar—the tall, mysterious academic-athlete from St. Luthor's—pulling Eniya Valedor, the dazzling, golden-haired mystery girl from East Crescent, into the garden behind Ezra's mansion. The moonlight caught the curve of her hair, the faint flush on her cheeks, and the raw tension between them. Though the video didn't catch the kiss, the chemistry was undeniable. Everyone saw it. And everyone had questions.
"Yo, that's Morningstar! With her?" someone blurted in East Crescent's cafeteria.
"She turned down every guy. Zion from St. Luthor's even tried, and she curved him hard. But Morningstar? She let him pull her away?" another student said, disbelief thick in her voice.
Zion, who had been chatting with Eniya moments before Morningstar pulled her away, felt humiliated. His pride stung like a slap. He didn't say much, but the way he glared at Morningstar's name every time it came up told enough.
At St. Luthor's, Ezra stayed quiet. He hadn't told anyone that he saw Morningstar and Eniya kiss in the locker room weeks before during the academic tournament. Not even his best friend, Monessa. And Monessa? She never brought it up, but Ezra knew she saw them too. They both acted like it hadn't happened. But it had. And neither of them could forget it.
Back at school, odd things started happening.
In literature class, Eniya flipped through her textbook when her fingers glowed faintly gold. The classroom lights dimmed and flickered. The windows buzzed as if caught in a breeze no one else felt. She clenched her fists and slipped her hands beneath the desk. No one seemed to notice. But inside, panic bloomed. Something was changing.
Over at St. Luthor's, Morningstar stood frozen in the boy's bathroom, staring into the mirror. His irises sparked—a swirl of red and gold. He gripped the sink as a flash of memory tore through his mind: a sky split by fire, a dark-winged creature rising in the smoke. A name echoed through him—Valedor.
And then Ezra.
Two weeks after the party, during algebra, he collapsed. A pale light burst from his chest, glowing like runes across his arms. His body hovered above the floor. Students screamed. Teachers rushed in. But within seconds, he stood, gasping, and the light was gone. His eyes darted around the room—he didn't recognize any of it. Not the students. Not the school. Not even himself.
A memory surged forward:
"My lord Morningstar," he had once said, kneeling in blood-stained armor, wings extended behind him, a sacred sword planted in scorched earth.
Ezra staggered out of the classroom, into the street, dazed and burning with visions. The memories weren't dreams. They were real. He had lived before. And he had died.
At home, Eniya's father—her quiet, stern guardian—noticed everything. He had always watched for the signs. And now, the shift in her aura, the shimmer in her voice, the way plants leaned subtly toward her touch—it all screamed one thing.
That evening, he sat her down. His voice was firm but heavy with sorrow.
"It's time you knew the truth, Eniya," he said. "You are not just human. I am not just your father. I am an elf. Your mother was human. That makes you a hybrid—half-elf, half-human. And what you're feeling… the shifts… the visions… the glow. It means the Awakening has begun."
Eniya froze. Her world—the reality she thought she knew—fractured in that instant.
And so, the Awakening began.