Mrs Blackwood's voice was gentle but firm.
"The doctor says we can go home now."
Xavier sat up slowly. The IV beside him had finished dripping. His shoulder ached beneath the bandages, and the sting on his cheek flared where the gauze clung—but none of it mattered.
He just nodded.
Outside, the sky was the colour of dull chalk, heavy and low. At the kerb, Mrs Blackwood gave the taxi driver a polite nod.
"Rising Star Boys' Home, please."
She glanced back. "Xavier, in you get."
He climbed in silently, eyes on the blurred scenery rushing past. His fists tightened in his lap.
I shouldn't have left her. I worked so hard for that stupid tag, and now… I'll never forgive him. Never.
*
Back at the orphanage, Xavier stepped into his shared room. Everything looked untouched—the posters still pinned to the walls, the same hush hanging in the air.
David sat up groggily, brown eyes peering through his oversized glasses, his mop of messy hair falling over his ears.
"You're back," he mumbled. "Is Gracie okay?"
Xavier didn't answer right away. He nodded, eyes downcast, and set his holdall next to the bed.
David frowned but didn't push.
"I was gonna stay awake till you got back," he said, stretching out with a yawn. "Wake me if you wanna talk or anything, alright?"
Xavier whispered, "Thanks."
He wasn't sure David even heard.
Within minutes, David's soft snores filled the room.
Xavier sat on the edge of his bed. The tears came quietly, hot and helpless.
Gracie wasn't just a pet. She was his. His only real friend. Not like the boys who copied his homework or pretended to like him for answers. David was different… but Xavier wasn't ready to trust that yet.
And I couldn't even protect her.
He buried his face in the pillow, sobs muffled by the fabric. At last, sleep found him.
*
The dream returned.
Same man. Same woman. Same murder.
The red light. Her collapse.
The blond man with the baby.
He tucked a note into the blanket, just like before.
But this time—something shifted.
A woman stepped into the foggy dreamscape. Familiar.
Mrs Blackwood.
She lifted the baby from the bench. The blond man, out of breath, sank to his knees. She handed him a bottle of water. He gulped gratefully, gesturing for her to go.
She turned away. She walked down the street, the baby in her arms, and stopped at a building with worn letters above the door:
Rising Star Boys' Home.
Fog curled around the frame. Then—
A flicker.
A boy stood in the doorway.
Hair the colour of cherry flames. Crimson eyes glowing like warning lights. The same boy Xavier had glimpsed before.
He stepped forward.
"You were not supposed to be here, Prince," he whispered.
And then he vanished.
*
Sunlight spilled into Mrs Blackwood's office, catching the gilt trim on the picture frames. The scent of lemon polish and strong tea hung in the air.
She looked up from her cup, smiling warmly. "Good morning, Xavier. You're up early."
He hovered near the door before stepping in.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, dear."
He sank into the chair opposite. It felt too big, too soft, like it wanted to swallow him whole.
"Where did I come from?" he asked quietly. "How did I end up here?"
Her smile didn't falter—but her fingers twitched on the teacup handle.
"An old man brought you. Said he found you crying on a bench behind our street. You were only a few days old. Wrapped in a blue blanket. There was a note tucked in."
"What did the note say?"
"Just your name. Xavier Garrison. Nothing else."
She said it simply. Too neatly.
Xavier nodded as though satisfied. "Thank you."
She smiled again and sipped her tea.
But as he left, the dream tugged at him. Same street. Same bench. Only it hadn't been an old man. It was her. Mrs Blackwood. Holding the baby. Handing water to the blond man.
So why did she lie?
And who was the red-haired boy with crimson eyes?
You were not supposed to be here, Prince.
The words gnawed at him like a riddle with teeth.
*
Later, Xavier sat in the dining hall, a plate of toast and beans untouched before him. The clink of cutlery and chatter blurred into a low hum as his thoughts spiralled.
That baby in the dream—it was him. He was certain of it. The woman with honey-brown hair and emerald eyes had to be his mother. But the two men—who were they? Was either his father? And why was Mrs Blackwood lying?
Mrs Blackwood passed by, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Eat something, Xavier," she said softly. "You'll feel worse if you don't."
He gave a slow nod but didn't lift his fork.
Then—
"Xavier!"
He turned. His stomach knotted.
Jake.
The boy looked pale, fidgety, almost frightened.
"I didn't mean for it to go this far," Jake stammered. "I just wanted to break the machine. Not hurt anyone. I swear—I didn't know she was in there!"
"You nearly killed her," Xavier said, voice sharp as shattered glass.
"I didn't know!" Jake cried, trembling. "Please—I'm sorry!"
Xavier's hand moved before his mind caught up.
Smack.
The sound cracked across the room. Jake staggered back, one hand on his cheek, eyes wide.
"She was my only friend!" Xavier shouted, fury tearing through him like a storm breaking loose.
Chairs scraped. Gasps rippled through the dining hall.
Then—the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The bulbs buzzed like angry wasps, shadows twitching across the walls. A glass rattled on the table, shivering on the edge.
Some of the younger boys ducked under the benches. One of the staff muttered, "Not again…"
Xavier's breath hitched. His knees buckled.
"Quick, get him some sugar!" someone shouted.
Too late.
The world tilted. Darkness swept in.
*
He woke in the orphanage infirmary. Nurse Hansen adjusted the lamp beside him.
"You've had a funny turn," she said briskly.
Xavier didn't reply.
He simply rose—and left.
*
The streets were hushed, the air biting. His feet led him, unthinking, to the bench from his dream.
Someone was there.
A boy.
Red hair. Crimson eyes. Crying.
Xavier slowed. "You alright?"
"My leg…" the boy whimpered.
Xavier knelt. There was only a small scratch. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and bound it gently.
"There. All better."
"Th-thank you."
"What's your name?"
"My name is—"
Darkness.
He stood in a vast hall of black stone. Flames roared behind a shattered stained-glass window.
A whisper wound through the smoke:
They're coming. The king's darkness spreads… we need your help.
The air was thick, choking.
Then—his mother.
"I'm proud of you, Xavier," she said softly.
His throat clenched. "Why did you leave me?"
"I didn't want to." Her voice trembled. "Your father… he's consumed by darkness."
"What does he want?"
"Immortality. He'll sacrifice anyone to get it."
"Who?"
Her eyes dimmed. "Someone pure. Someone with a heart of gold."
Xavier's heart lurched. "Gracie?"
She shook her head. "You'll find out soon. But you must trust yourself."
She began to fade.
"Wait—don't go!"
He blinked.
Back on the bench.
Alone.
No red-haired boy. No voice. Just the wind… and a crow's distant caw.
Something had begun.
And it would change everything.
*