Embark on a thrilling journey with Dria as she grapples with newfound magical abilities, family secrets, and a destiny she never asked for. In "Her Kind," the line between myth and reality blurs as Dria navigates a world filled with danger, teenage...
Dria watched Elliam's little chest rise and fall, the room filled with a tense silence that hung heavy in the air. The incident in the yard had shaken everyone, leaving them in a state of disbelief. Elliam lay on the couch, his small form appearing even more fragile amidst the sea of concerned faces.
Kane, his brow furrowed with worry, stood beside Edrick, who was now using his powers to create a soothing breeze in the room. Marcelo, guilt etched on his face, hovered nearby, unable to tear his eyes away from his unconscious twin.
"He's going to be okay, right?" Dria whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes never leaving Elliam.
Edrick nodded, his expression determined. "He's just exhausted. The sudden surge of power and emotions must have overwhelmed him. He needs rest."
"But what if this happens again?" Katrina interjected, his voice filled with genuine worry.
Kane, the voice of reason in the room, stepped forward. "We need to learn more about his abilities. Understanding his powers is the key to helping him control them. We can't let fear cloud our judgment."
Hours passed, heavy with tension, in the dimly lit room. Elliam remained unconscious, his breathing steady but shallow. Dria kept a vigilant watch, her worry etched deep into her features. Marcelo sat at her side, his eyes puffy and red from crying.
The room was quiet except for the occasional rustle of sheets and the distant sounds of the others going about their activities in the house. Outside, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow through the window.
Dria continued to stroke Elliam's hair, her touch gentle and comforting. She glanced at Marcelo, his face streaked with tears, and pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him in a reassuring hug. "It's going to be okay, Marcelo," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. "We'll figure this out."
Marcelo nodded, his grip on Dria tight. "I didn't mean it," he repeated, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "I didn't want this to happen."
Dria held him for a moment longer before gently pulling away, her hands resting on his shoulders. She looked into his eyes, searching for a glimmer of understanding. "We need to be careful, Marcelo. Our powers are unpredictable, and we can't afford to hurt each other, especially not now."
He nodded again, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I know, Dria. I just... I just got so angry. I didn't think."
Dria sighed, her heart heavy with the weight of the situation. "We all make mistakes, Marcelo. We just have to learn from them and be better." She paused, her eyes softening with compassion. "Now, let's focus on helping Elliam. We'll find a way to help him, I promise."
An hour slipped away, and the moon ascended outside the house, casting a pale glow through the windows. Dria's legs protested as she rose from the chair, her body heavy with exhaustion. Elliam had been virtually unconscious the entire day, and the weight of worry and weariness gnawed at her bones.
Stepping into the shower, the cascading warmth washed away the fatigue, eliciting a sigh of relief. Under the soothing water, her thoughts drifted to Alucard and Jared. They were supposed to have returned before sunset, yet there was no sign of them. They had warned about the unfamiliar terrain, urging caution about potential delays.
Dria closed the tap with a sigh, wrapping herself in a towel. In the dim light of the room, she searched for clothes and settled on a pair of soft shorts and a long-sleeved vest. As she tied her hair into a messy bun, her gaze landed on the leather journal resting at Alucard's bedside. She hesitated for a moment, then succumbed to curiosity.
Crouching down, she grabbed the journal and made her way to the twins' room. Seated beside Elliam's bed, she opened the weathered leather cover.
The leather was worn, both soft and rough beneath her fingertips. The pages inside had lost their pristine white hue, now tinged with a weathered brown, and the once-bold black ink had faded into the paper. The first page bore a name and a year:
Tšoeu Makgotla, 1457.
Dria studied the text closely, the unfamiliar script gradually becoming more legible as if the words were aligning themselves just for her. She realized she was reading a diary entry, and her suspicion about the journals was confirmed.
My mother always said that they existed, but I didn't believe them; they were myths, just like the Impundulu. A creature resembling a large bird with the ability to control lightning and storms. Like that myth, I didn't believe that there were beings amongst us with powers woven with Mother Nature and time itself. My mother claimed to have seen one, but I always thought she was just filled with stories. That was until I saw one myself.**
I was returning from a hunt with a few friends, thoroughly intoxicated. We had spent the entire night discussing the responsibilities we'd assume as clan men, our dreams of bulging muscles, and the allure of countless wives at our feet. We were boys.
As I strolled homeward, a sudden breeze swept over me, and the weather seemed to shift with gathering clouds. In the distance, a commotion caught my attention, originating from a hut where a crowd had gathered. Some were demanding the owner's appearance, while others sought to force their way in. I watched, perplexed, not yet grasping the reason for their clamor until a figure emerged.
An older man, a probable elder, with gray hair cascading down to his waist and a leather garment concealing his modesty. His skin was deeply bronzed, but his eyes were strikingly blue.
I became entranced by his gaze, unaware of the growing restlessness in the crowd. The onlookers began to berate him, labeling him a witch and a demon. Desperate to escape the throng, I struggled to break free, eventually leaping out and landing in a nearby alley. There, I heard a soft gasp behind me.
Swiveling around, I found a girl whose eyes mirrored those of the elder. Her radiant blue eyes stood out against her rich, dark skin. They narrowed as she stared at him. The thunder overhead rumbled, and lightning shattered the sky as she stood, an embodiment of power. My heart pounded as I waited for the pain I anticipated from the imminent lightning strike, but it never came.
Opening my eyes, I found her still standing, now focused on the group of people who had denounced the elder. They lay on the ground, their bodies charred. The elder regarded the girl with sorrowful eyes and said, "Go, and never return."
In a state of shock, I glanced back at the girl, noticing the hesitation in her eyes. She turned and sprinted down the alley, looking back at me. For reasons I couldn't explain, I got to my feet and followed her.
I was just sixteen years old at the time, and that was my first encounter with a Nulpine. Now, I am 110 years old.
