The Stranger’s Warning

Damian could barely focus for the rest of the lecture. His mind raced, replaying what had just happened over and over again. Who was that man? How had he disappeared so suddenly? And why had his stare felt so... unnatural?

The moment class ended, he gathered his things and rushed out of the lecture hall. His instincts screamed at him to get away, but from what? A stranger staring at him? Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe the stress of the past few days was finally getting to him.

Or maybe, deep down, he already knew the truth—this wasn't normal.

As he stepped outside, the crisp autumn air did little to settle his nerves. Students milled about the campus courtyard, chatting, laughing, going about their day as if the world wasn't shifting beneath Damian's feet. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples.

Get it together, Damian.

Then, he felt it again.

The weight of eyes pressing into him.

He didn't need to turn around. He already knew.

He was being watched.

His body tensed. Slowly, cautiously, he turned his head, scanning the crowd.

And then he saw him.

The man from the lecture hall.

Standing at the far end of the courtyard, leaning against a tree, arms crossed, watching. His dark clothing blended into the shadows, his expression unreadable. But Damian knew—this was no coincidence.

Panic rose in his chest. He couldn't just stand here. He needed to move, to get away. Without a second thought, he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit gates, weaving through groups of students, keeping his head down.

Fifty feet.

Thirty.

Twenty.

He could make it. Just a little further—

A hand grabbed his arm.

Damian froze.

The grip was strong, firm, but not painful. He turned sharply, his heart slamming against his ribs.

It was him.

Up close, the stranger was even more unnerving. His face was sharp, his skin pale, his dark eyes holding something ancient—something Damian couldn't place but sent a deep, primal fear curling in his stomach.

"Damian Voss."

His breath hitched. The man's voice was smooth, composed, yet there was an edge to it, a quiet authority that sent chills down Damian's spine.

"H-How do you know my name?" Damian stammered, trying to yank his arm away. The man released him instantly, but his gaze never wavered.

"There are things you need to know," he said. "Things about yourself. About your past."

Damian took a step back, every instinct telling him to run. "Who the hell are you?"

The man's eyes darkened. "Someone who has been watching over you for a very long time."

That didn't help. If anything, it made things worse.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Damian said, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I don't have a past. I was left at an orphanage. That's all there is to it."

The man studied him for a long moment before exhaling. "You really don't know, do you?"

Damian clenched his fists. "Know what?"

The stranger glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening. Then, he stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"You are not who you think you are."

Damian felt the world tilt beneath him. "What—"

"There are things inside you. Buried. Locked away. But the time is coming when they will awaken, whether you are ready or not."

His chest tightened. He wanted to deny it, to call the man insane, but something in his voice—something in his own gut—told him that this was the truth.

"I don't—"

"You need to be careful," the man interrupted. "There are others who know about you. They will come for you. And when they do, you won't be safe."

Damian's throat went dry. "Who? Who's coming for me?"

The man hesitated for the first time. Then, with a grim expression, he said two words that sent a chill through Damian's bones.

"The Elders."

Damian didn't know who they were. He didn't know why this man was telling him all of this. But one thing was clear—his life was about to change.

Forever.