No matter how hard I tried to ignore them, the whispers wouldn't stop. They clung to me like shadows in the hallway, curling around every corner of the campus. Girls giggled behind their palms when I passed, boys smirked knowingly, and every look carried the same unspoken question: What's going on between Hazel and Warren?
It should have been easy to brush off—rumors always died eventually—but this felt different. The weight of every stare pressed down on me, and for the first time in weeks, Warren wasn't there to soften the blow. He'd grown distant, like a ghost haunting the edges of my days. He still smiled when we crossed paths, still spoke when spoken to, but there was something unspoken in his silence, a secret he carried that pushed him further away from me.
I told myself I didn't care, but the ache in my chest said otherwise.
I was still caught in those thoughts when my phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a name that pulled me from my spiraling: Mom. I blinked, confused, before swiping the call open.
"Hazel, sweetheart!" my mother's voice burst through, warm and filled with excitement.
"Mom?" I said, a little startled. "You sound…happy."
"Of course I'm happy. How could I not be? Happy birthday, darling!"
For a moment, I froze. "Wait—what?"
"It's your birthday," my father's voice chimed in from the background, gentle and teasing. "Don't tell me you forgot?"
My stomach sank. In the whirlwind of gossip, of Warren's distance, of everything—I had. I'd forgotten my own birthday.
"Wow," I muttered, rubbing my temple. "I…I actually did forget."
My mother laughed softly, though her voice trembled with a tenderness I didn't catch right away. "That's alright, Hazel. That just means we get to remind you how special today is. Eighteen only comes once, after all."
Eighteen. The word settled heavily in my chest, though I couldn't explain why.
"There's something else," my father added, his tone quieter now. "When you come home this weekend, we have a surprise for you. Something important we need to talk about."
I frowned, uneasy. "Important? What kind of surprise?"
"You'll see soon," Mom said quickly, a little too quickly. "Just…enjoy today, alright? We'll explain when the time is right."
The line fell quiet for a moment, and though they tried to sound cheerful, I could feel something beneath their words. Something heavy.
"Okay," I said finally, forcing a smile they couldn't see. "Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad. I love you."
"We love you too, Hazel. More than you'll ever know," my mother whispered, before the call ended.
I stared at the phone for a long time after, the words something important we need to talk about echoing in my head.
The living room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tight as if to keep the outside world at bay. Hazel's parents sat across from each other, the silence heavy until her mother finally broke it.
"She doesn't know, does she? Not a clue." Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched her tea. "Eighteen, and she's still in the dark."
Her father leaned back, his expression lined with worry. "We kept it from her to protect her. You know why. But now…now it's different. Signs will start to show. She'll feel things she can't explain. See things that shouldn't be there."
Her mother shook her head. "She's not ready. How can she be? We've let her believe she's normal all her life. And now we're supposed to tell her she's descended from—"
"From a bloodline that cannot be erased," he interrupted firmly. "Hazel is a white witch, the last of our line. And whether she's ready or not, her powers will awaken. It's already begun."
Tears welled in her mother's eyes. "What if she resents us for keeping it from her? What if she turns away?"
He reached across the table, taking her trembling hands in his. "Better she hears it from us than from them." His voice dropped, grim. "The vampires will sense it soon—especially those princes she's entangled with. And if they discover who she truly is before she does…"
Her mother closed her eyes, shivering. "It'll tear her apart."
Silence hung between them, filled only by the ticking clock on the wall.
"Tomorrow," her father said at last. "When she comes home. We'll tell her everything. Before the signs grow too strong to hide."
Her mother nodded reluctantly, though fear lingered in her gaze. "May the ancestors guide her. She'll need all the strength she can get."
Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it the whisper of something ancient stirring. Hazel's eighteenth birthday had come—and with it, the beginning of a destiny that would no longer stay buried.
Yet as the night deepened, Hazel lay awake in her dorm room, staring at the ceiling. She should have felt excited—eighteen, a milestone—but instead unease crawled under her skin. Every shadow seemed thicker, every whisper outside her window sharper.
When she finally drifted to sleep, her dreams weren't the usual scattered fragments. They were vivid. She stood in a forest she didn't recognize, moonlight spilling across her skin. The air smelled of herbs and smoke, and in the distance, a soft humming voice guided her forward.
An old woman emerged from the mist, cloaked in white, her eyes ancient yet kind. Hazel's breath caught.
"You've grown," the woman whispered, reaching out as if she'd known Hazel all her life. "But you do not yet know yourself."
Hazel tried to speak, to ask who she was, but her voice failed.
The woman only smiled, pressing a cool, wrinkled hand to Hazel's forehead. "Soon, child. Soon the blood in your veins will awaken. And when it does, the world will no longer look the same."
Hazel jolted awake, drenched in sweat, her heart racing. The dream clung to her like a second skin, too real to be ignored.
At first, she thought it was just the aftertaste of fear—until she noticed it. A faint glow shimmered at the edge of her desk, pale and pulsing, like moonlight trapped inside a stone. Hazel sat up slowly, her breath catching.
The glow seemed alive. It wasn't harsh or blinding but soft, warm, and strangely familiar. As she stared, she felt it tugging at her, not with hands but with something deeper—like a whisper curling in her chest, calling her name in silence.
She slid her legs off the bed, one foot brushing the cold floor. Every part of her wanted to move closer, to touch it, to understand why it felt like it belonged to her. But then reason snapped back into place. She shook her head hard, pressing her palms to her eyes.
"No… I'm just tired. Just tired," she muttered, forcing herself back under the covers.
She closed her eyes, determined to sleep, yet the glow lingered behind her eyelids. And when sleep finally claimed her again, the dream returned—the forest, the woman in white, the same words whispered over and over.
Hazel woke twice more that night, breathless and unsettled, each time half-expecting the glow to still be there. It was gone, but the memory of it was not. And by morning, one truth had rooted itself in her mind: whatever was happening to her was not ordinary. Something had begun, and no matter how she tried to deny it, it would not be stopped.
The knock came just as the sun had started to climb, dragging Hazel from a restless sleep. Her dreams had been a loop of forests, whispers, and glowing light that clung to her even now. Blinking the haze from her eyes, she shuffled to the door.
When she pulled it open, Warren stood there, leaning casually against the frame as though he'd been waiting. His dark eyes softened when they met hers.
"Morning," he said, his voice lower than usual. Then, with a small smile, he added, "Happy birthday, Hazel."
Hazel froze. For a heartbeat, she simply stared at him, her lips parting but no words forming. Birthday? The word hit her like cold water. Yesterday had been her birthday—her eighteenth—and she'd forgotten it completely.
But what unsettled her wasn't her own forgetfulness. It was Warren. She hadn't told him. She was sure of it.
"How… how did you know?" she asked finally, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Warren's smile didn't falter, but his eyes flickered—just for a second, as though a shadow had passed through them. "I have my ways," he said simply, brushing it off. "Besides, some things about you… they're impossible to forget."
Hazel's stomach tightened, her mind racing. First the dream, then the glow, and now Warren showing up at her door with knowledge he shouldn't have had. It was too much for coincidence.
She forced a smile, though her voice cracked when she replied, "Thanks… I guess."
Warren studied her a moment longer, as though searching her face for something unspoken, before finally stepping back. "I'll see you around," he murmured, and with that, he walked away, leaving Hazel standing in the doorway, her heart hammering and her thoughts louder than ever.