Chapter 3: Bloodlines & Nightmares
John fell silent.
The weight of his dreams pressed against his mind like a slow-moving storm, ready to swallow him whole. Could he even begin to explain them?
His uncle broke the quiet.
"John, do you know my name?"
John blinked, startled by the sudden question.
"Haorei Shimrah," he answered.
His uncle nodded, his expression unreadable.
"That's correct. Do you know why my surname doesn't match your mother's or father's?"
John frowned, confused. "What?"
His uncle exhaled, eyes focused on the road ahead. "Because those who carry the name Shimrah** serve a greater purpose. We are bound to a royal bloodline—the noble family that once ruled over realms far beyond this one."
The words felt too heavy, too absurd to be real.
"You have the bloodline of a king running through you, John."
John stared. His heartbeat quickened as he processed the sheer insanity of what he just heard.
"What... what are you even saying?"
His uncle's gaze flickered toward him, dark and sharp.
"Every generation carrying this bloodline experiences the same dreams. Or rather nightmares."
Something lurched in John's stomach.
"You're telling me my dreams are... inherited? Some kind of curse passed down? That's ridiculous."
His uncle's voice didn't waver. "You already know it isn't."
John opened his mouth to protest, to deny but the words didn't come. Because deep down, a terrifying truth coiled inside him.
His dreams weren't normal.
They weren't random.
And if this was real if his nightmares were connected to something bigger then everything in his life was about to change.
A suffocating silence settled between them until finally, John gave in.
He began to talk.
He narrated his dreams in detail every suffocating void, every monstrous whisper, every twisted figure clawing its way from the abyss.
As he spoke, his uncle listened intently, nodding like he already knew.
When John finally finished, exhausted from spilling everything, his uncle leaned back.
"Then I'm sure of it."
They reached home. His uncle parked the car in silence, stepping out with the same unnerving certainty that had filled their conversation.
"Clean yourself up," he said, closing the car door behind him. "Then come to my study. We have much to discuss."
John sat frozen for a moment before slowly exiting the vehicle.
The air was too still.
Something was coming.
And whether John wanted to hear it or not it would change everything.
John stepped into his uncle's study, the scent of aged paper and faint tobacco lingering in the air. The room was cluttered—not chaotic, but precisely lived-in, filled with books that looked far older than him, scrolls stacked neatly beside unmarked envelopes, and symbols carved into wooden artifacts scattered across the desk.
His uncle sat amidst it all, methodically sorting through documents, his sharp gaze fixed on papers—yet his words carried weight meant for John alone.
"In this modern world, where lies and reality blend, there are those who hold power beyond human comprehension," Haorei murmured. His voice was calm, but beneath it lay something deeper an undercurrent of certainty.
John listened, standing stiffly by the doorway.
" Witches. Wizards. Mages. Sorcerers. Beasts. They exist—but not in the way fairy tales describe."
John's breath hitched. His uncle's tone wasn't dramatic or exaggerated—it was matter-of-fact. As if he were explaining weather patterns or daily news.
"The world as you see it is merely a curtain," his uncle continued. "What lies beyond is something concealed—protected from the eyes of ordinary people."
John remained silent, every muscle tense. This wasn't a joke. His uncle never spoke nonsense, and something about his tone made it impossible to deny.
"And the dreams you've been having?" Haorei paused, finally lifting his gaze.
His uncle's piercing eyes locked onto him, studying him with a quiet certainty.
"They are a gift."
John's throat went dry. "A gift?"
The nightmares the suffocating void, the monstrous hand reaching for him, the whispers calling him Wandering Soul how could that be a gift?
His uncle stood abruptly, crossing the room. Without another word, he reached for a door one John hadn't noticed before.
With a single motion, Haorei unlocked it, the heavy wood groaning slightly as it swung open.
The air changed instantly.
Something beyond the ordinary pulsed from the other side an atmosphere completely different from the world John knew.
His uncle stepped forward, turning slightly to glance back.
"Follow me."