Anya stayed silent for a long moment.
The fire crackled softly, but its warmth no longer reached Kalin. The shelter felt smaller now, tighter, as if the walls themselves were listening.
Finally, Anya lifted her head.
"That man…" she said slowly, "is not just one man."
Kalin frowned.
"What does that mean?"
She took a deep breath, her fingers gripping the fabric of her dress.
"It means there are others like him. Watchers. Hunters. People who look for… signs."
"Signs of what?" Kalin asked.
Anya didn't answer immediately. Instead, she reached toward the old cloth the shadow had dropped. She hesitated before touching it, as if it could burn her.
"This symbol," she said quietly, "belongs to an old order. One that was supposed to disappear."
Kalin felt a strange pulse in his chest.
"I've seen it before."
Anya's head snapped up.
"Where?"
"In a dream," he said. "Or… something like a dream."
Her face drained of color.
"That's not possible," she whispered. "You're too young."
Kalin clenched his fists.
"You keep saying that."
The wind outside howled, louder now. Not natural. Not random.
Anya stood abruptly.
"We can't stay here tonight."
Kalin's heart skipped.
"But Kala—"
"I know," she interrupted gently. "I'll carry her if I must."
She wrapped Kala in a thick blanket, lifting her carefully. Kalin grabbed his worn bag, his eyes never leaving the door.
As they stepped outside, the night felt alive.
Every shadow seemed deeper. Every sound sharper.
They moved quickly through narrow paths Anya seemed to know by heart. Kalin struggled to keep up, his small legs burning, yet something inside him pushed him forward.
Suddenly—
A sound behind them.
Footsteps.
Anya stopped.
"Run," she whispered.
Before Kalin could respond, a figure emerged from the darkness—then another.
Three.
They didn't rush. They didn't speak.
They surrounded them.
Kalin moved instinctively in front of Anya and Kala.
"I won't let you hurt them," he said, his voice shaking but loud.
One of the figures tilted its head.
"So it is you," a low voice said. "The child."
Anya's breath hitched.
"Leave him alone," she said. "He knows nothing."
The man laughed softly.
"That's the problem."
The air changed.
Kalin felt it—pressure, heat, something twisting inside his chest. His vision blurred for a moment.
Then—
The ground trembled.
Not violently. Just enough.
The men froze.
"What was that?" one muttered.
Kalin looked down at his hands. They were shaking.
"I didn't—" he whispered.
Anya stared at him, eyes wide with fear… and awe.
"Run!" she shouted.
This time, Kalin ran.
Behind them, the shadows clashed. Sounds echoed—nothing clear, nothing visible—but the night itself seemed to recoil.
They didn't stop until they reached an abandoned underground passage.
Inside, darkness swallowed them whole.
Kalin collapsed, gasping for breath.
"I didn't mean to," he said. "I didn't do anything."
Anya knelt beside him, gripping his shoulders.
"You did," she said softly. "You just don't know how yet."
Tears filled his eyes.
"I'm scared."
She pulled him into a tight embrace.
"So am I," she admitted. "Because if they found you now… others will follow."
Kalin looked up at her.
"Why me?"
She closed her eyes.
"Because some children are born at the wrong time," she said. "And some… at the most dangerous one."
Above them, unseen—
Eyes watched.
And somewhere far away, a decision was made.The underground passage smelled of dust and forgotten years.
Water dripped slowly from the cracked ceiling, echoing in the darkness like a ticking clock. Kala slept in Anya's arms, unaware that the world above them had almost swallowed them whole.
Kalin sat on the cold ground, his back pressed against the stone wall. His small chest rose and fell quickly. Every breath felt heavy, as if the air itself resisted him.
"I didn't know," he whispered.
"I swear… I didn't know I could do that."
Anya crouched in front of him. Her face looked older now, carved by fear and regret.
"That's how it always begins," she said softly. "No one ever knows."
Kalin looked at his hands again. They were calm now. Too calm.
"What am I?" he asked.
The question froze her.
Anya stood up and turned away, pacing slowly. Her shadow stretched across the walls, long and uneven.
"You are a child," she said firmly. "That is the only thing you must remember."
"But they didn't look at me like a child," Kalin replied.
Silence.
"They looked at me like… something else."
Anya stopped.
"You're right," she said quietly. "And that's why we can't stay hidden forever."
Kalin's heart sank.
Above them, footsteps echoed faintly.
Not close.
But not far either.
Anya raised her hand, signaling silence. She listened carefully, her eyes sharp despite the darkness.
"They're searching," she whispered. "They felt the disturbance."
Kalin swallowed hard.
"Because of me?"
"Yes."
He lowered his head.
"I'm sorry."
Anya turned quickly and knelt in front of him again, gripping his shoulders.
"Never say that," she said fiercely. "You didn't choose this."
A sudden crash echoed from one of the tunnels.
Kala stirred, whimpering softly.
Anya tightened her hold on her.
"We need to move," she said. "Now."
They followed the narrow passage until it opened into a wider chamber. Moonlight spilled in from a broken ceiling above, revealing old symbols carved into the stone floor.
Kalin stopped.
Those symbols.
His heart pounded.
"They're the same," he whispered. "The ones from the cloth."
Anya's breath caught.
"Yes," she admitted. "This place… was once a sanctuary."
"For people like me?" Kalin asked.
"For people who were hunted," she replied.
A sound cut through the air.
Clap.
Slow.
Deliberate.
"Well done, Anya," a voice echoed from the shadows. "I wondered how long you could keep running."
A tall figure stepped into the moonlight.
His eyes glowed faintly.
Not with anger.
With recognition.
Kalin instinctively stepped forward again.
"Stay behind me," he said.
Anya grabbed his arm.
"No," she whispered. "This time… you listen."
The man smiled.
"So small," he said, studying Kalin. "And yet… the ground answered you."
Kalin felt that pressure again.
Stronger.
Unstable.
"What do you want?" Anya demanded.
"The child," the man replied calmly. "He doesn't belong to you."
Kalin shook his head.
"I don't belong to anyone."
The man's smile faded.
"You will."
The symbols beneath Kalin's feet began to glow faintly.
Anya's eyes widened in horror.
"No… not yet."
The chamber trembled violently.
Rocks fell.
Kala screamed.
Kalin's vision blurred as something inside him cracked open—not fully, but enough.
He screamed.
Not in fear.
In defiance.
A shockwave burst outward.
The man was thrown back, slamming into the wall.
Silence followed.
Kalin collapsed to his knees.
Anya rushed to him, holding his face.
"You did it," she whispered, terrified. "You chose."
"Chose what?" he gasped.
"To fight."
Sirens echoed in the distance.
More hunters.
Anya stood, her expression hardened.
"We leave now," she said. "And Kalin…"
She looked at him with sorrow and pride.
"From this moment on… your childhood will never be normal again."
Kalin hugged Kala tightly.
He looked at the broken chamber.
At the glowing symbols.
At the path ahead.
And for the first time…
He didn't look away