Rise Of The Phoenix: The Genesis Chronicles

Blood Ties And Forest Whispers

-𝕾𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖑-

𝕴 peered out of the car window, my gaze drawn to a man across the street. He held a steaming onion bagel and a cup of coffee, the enticing aroma wafting through the air, reaching even my senses from this distance. It was as if I could discern the very essence of his being, detecting the sugar levels coursing through his veins and perceiving hues unknown to the realm of medical understanding. An uncontrolled diabetic, a walking confectionery of sweetness. A primal urge stirred within me, urging me to seize the door handle and flee, to distance myself from my own animalistic inclinations. But deep down, I knew it was futile. In the grand tapestry of existence, everyone succumbs to the finality of death. A part of me, the vestiges of the decent human being instilled in me from childhood, yearned to warn him.

Lost in contemplation, I observed his every move as he sat outside the quaint coffee shop, engrossed in his phone. However, my attention wavered when the sound of unlocking car doors disrupted my reverie. I glanced towards the other side of the window and caught sight of Less and Hayden approaching, their strides purposeful and resolute.

Seeing an opportunity, I sprang out of the car, crossing the street with caution and making my way towards the man seated by the arranged chairs outside the café. Determinedly, I closed the distance until I stood towering over him. For a moment, I hesitated, my inner turmoil threatening to consume me. I reached for a nearby chair, placing it next to him before settling down.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" he inquired, finally tearing his gaze away from the mobile device. Curly blond hair cascaded to his ears and forehead, his skin possessing a creamy paleness. Clad in a green dress shirt and fitted black jeans, his eyes resembled an unfathomable expanse of an ocean.

Ignoring his question, I surveyed the table. And there it was, the bread knife, positioned with eerie precision upon the wooden surface, as if awaiting my arrival.

"Interesting choice of breakfast. Onion bagel and coffee?" I remarked, casually observing the items on the table.

The blond man arrogantly smirked and replied, "Yeah, my guilty pleasures. What's it to you?"

"Offer me your hand," I commanded, my voice carrying a gentle authority. I witnessed hesitation flicker across his face, quickly replaced by a growing fear. He pushed himself up from the table, attempting to escape my presence, but I seized his wrists, firmly compelling him back down, our eyes locking in a disconcerting gaze.

His oceanic eyes held secrets untold, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though the world had frozen around us, yielding to the intensity of our connection. Yet, amidst the stillness, I repeated my demand, "Give me your hand." Without a moment's hesitation, he complied.

Taking hold of the knife, I pressed it against his supple skin, exerting pressure despite its dullness. My gaze remained fixed upon his mesmerising eyes, as he bore the incision without flinching, his countenance void of visible pain. I ceased once his flesh parted, allowing a trickle of blood to emerge, staining the pristine surface. His scent, enchanting and alluring, tempted me, but I resisted the urge to drain him of his life force entirely.

Tracing the crimson trail with my finger, I collected the precious liquid, bringing it to my lips. His horrified expression witnessed my act, yet he made no protest.

Using the tissue attached to his coffee cup, I delicately wiped away the remnants of his blood, releasing his wrist as he pulled it back towards him. Fear now etched plainly upon his face, I wondered at the transformation that had transpired. Not long ago, he had obeyed my every command without question, unfazed by the consequences. And yet, now he resembled a bewildered stray, lost and confused.