Chapter 165: The First Signs
The next morning arrives quietly, almost shyly, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace hanging in the room. Pale sunlight filters through the thin hospital curtains and paints warm, watery shapes across the off-white ceiling. Erica wakes to that light—and to the soft, steady beep of a heart monitor keeping time beside her bed.
For the first time in what feels like years, she isn't waking up into fear.
No tremor fluttering in her hands.
No electric buzz simmering behind her eyes.
No dark, coiled dread waiting for the next seizure to pounce.
Just… stillness. A delicate, unfamiliar calm that feels almost borrowed.
Her eyes adjust slowly. Lucas stands near the door like a sentinel, arms crossed, shoulders locked, posture so rigid he looks like he's holding the entire building together through sheer force of will. He's been there all night—she can tell by the exhaustion he's trying not to show.
"You're awake," he says. Relief cracks through the gruff edge of his voice, slipping out before he can cage it.
Erica offers the smallest, almost apologetic smile. "Once again, I'm sorry… for everything." Her voice is raw, thin. "Fainting. Scaring everyone. Making you and the others stay here all night—"
She stops. A soft tremor crawls under her skin. Then another, sharper, rippling down her spine. The heart monitor picks up speed, its steady rhythm stumbling and rising.
Lucas straightens immediately. "Erica?"
"I'm fine," she insists, even as her fingers curl tight into the sheets, gripping like the fabric is scorching hot. "Just… adrenaline, I think."
But then her eyes flicker gold again. A quick flare, gone as fast as it came.
Her parents, drowsy and disoriented from their own long night, don't notice.
Her mother slides a gentle hand through Erica's hair, voice thick with relief. "The doctors said you're recovering better than they expected, sweetheart. They said your seizures… they're really gone."
Erica's breath hitches mid-inhale. "That wasn't a dream…? I'm really… cured?"
Her father nods, eyes shining. Her mother leans in, pulling Erica into a careful hug. And Erica clings to them—fingers tightening on their sleeves as if she's afraid they'll disappear. For a moment, it feels like the world finally stopped swinging its fists at her.
But then her arms stiffen.
Lucas is the first to notice the shift—his eyes narrowing, watching her posture turn rigid, her breathing speed up, her pupils expand until the edges turn black. The heart monitor erupts into frantic noise.
Her father lurches toward the door. "Nurse! Nurse!"
"Give her space," Lucas says sharply, stepping forward before either parent can get closer, positioning himself between Erica's bed and the door in a subtle, protective arc. "She's overwhelmed."
"Overwhelmed?" her mother snaps, fear slicing through her tone. "She just woke up!"
Erica's fingers clamp down on the metal railing. The metal creaks—then bends with a low, unnatural groan.
Her mother gasps. "Erica?"
But Erica barely hears her.
Her senses are exploding, one by one, like someone is ripping open doors inside her mind.
The light becomes too bright—needle sharp, stabbing into her skull.
Voices outside the room crash into her ears, every heartbeat in the hallway slamming like drums she can't shut out.
Smells—coffee, antiseptic, soap, fear—rush into her lungs like she's drowning in them, each one too vivid, too close.
She squeezes her eyes shut, but that only makes everything louder.
Lucas moves closer, voice low and steady. "Erica. Look at me."
She forces her eyes open. Her pupils lock onto his, desperate for something familiar. Her jaw trembles. Sweat gathers at her hairline.
"What… what's happening to me?" she whispers. Her whole body shakes like she's coming apart.
"Follow my breathing," Lucas murmurs. "Just focus on me. Slow in… slow out. That's it."
The monitor spikes again, a shrill alarm.
Her father steps forward. Lucas shifts subtly, blocking him without ever laying a hand. His expression is unmovable, calm but fierce.
"Lucas, let us through!" her father barks.
Lucas doesn't flinch. "She's not in danger. She's overloaded. If you crowd her, it gets worse."
Erica's hands twitch beneath the blanket. Her nails sharpen—just a fraction, just long enough to make her gasp softly. She stuffs her hands under the covers before her parents can see what's happening.
A tear slips down her cheek. "I'm losing it," she chokes.
"You're not," Lucas says firmly, voice cutting through the chaos like a lifeline. "You're adjusting. You're okay. I promise. I've got you."
Slowly, painfully, her breaths begin to find his rhythm.
Her pulse stops climbing.
Her trembling steadies.
The gold in her eyes fades to its normal shade.
She sinks back into the pillow, chest rising and falling in shaky relief.
By the time the nurse bursts in, rushed and breathless, Erica looks exhausted but stable—while her parents stand stiff and shaken, unsure what just happened.
Lucas steps back, allowing the nurse to check the monitors, his face unreadable. When the nurse finally leaves, both of Erica's parents slip out to talk to the doctor, whispering in frantic undertones.
The door closes behind them.
Erica speaks first—barely more than a breath. "That wasn't normal."
Lucas drags a chair closer to her bed. "No," he agrees quietly. "But you handled it."
Her lip trembles. "I felt… everything. Like the whole world was right on top of me."
"It'll get easier," he assures her. "Your body's changing. You're stronger now than you've ever been. Your senses are just waking up before the rest of you knows how to deal with them."
She stares at him, fear and hope knotted tight in her expression. "Lucas… am I turning into a monster?"
He shakes his head firmly. "No. You're becoming something powerful. And I'm right here. You're not doing this alone."
She swallows hard. "Is it… is it going to hurt again?"
"Maybe." He doesn't lie. "But if it does, I'll be here for that too."
Something inside her loosens—subtle, but deep. Like a knot that's been strangling her for years finally gives an inch.
"I want to get out of this hospital," she whispers.
Lucas nods. "Then we'll get you stable enough to leave before anyone notices… anything unusual."
Outside the room, Malia and Isaac wait in the hallway, tense and on alert, ready for whatever comes next.
Inside, Erica threads her fingers through Lucas's hand—gripping it as if it's the only solid thing left while the storm inside her keeps rising.
Lucas realizes that her transformation is in its final stages.
And the hospital is the worst possible place for it.