Chapter Five: The Stranger

Aria sat on the edge of the ruined temple, staring out at the forest beyond. The wind carried whispers through the trees, rustling the leaves like distant voices.

The battle from the night before still lingered in her body—her muscles ached, her skin was bruised, and yet, something inside her had shifted.

She had fought a creature of shadows—and survived.

More than that, she had felt something awaken inside her.

The Sight was no longer just a burden.

It was becoming a weapon.

But the question remained—who had given her this power?

The vision of the mysterious woman still burned in her mind.

"Find me."

Was she an ancestor? A past Seer who had passed her gift—or curse—down through blood?

Aria didn't know.

But she was going to find out.

She gathered her things, slipping her dagger into its sheath. If she wanted answers, she had to leave the temple ruins behind and search for them elsewhere.

The first step? The village she had once called home.

She had sworn never to return.

But she had no choice.

If her family had any records—stories, legends, even whispers of her lineage—she had to see them.

Aria pulled her hood over her head and stepped into the forest.

She didn't look back.

The journey was long.

The forest stretched for miles, tangled and wild, the trees towering above like ancient watchers. She moved cautiously, her senses sharp, every shadow a potential threat.

The creatures hadn't returned since the attack—but she knew they were still watching.

Waiting.

By nightfall, she reached the outskirts of the village.

It looked smaller than she remembered.

The houses, once familiar, now seemed distant—strangers in the dark.

Memories tugged at her mind.

She had left this place as a child, cast out like a curse.

She had no reason to expect a warm welcome.

Still, she moved forward, keeping to the shadows.

She wasn't looking for people.

She was looking for truth.

The old records were kept in the village archives—a crumbling stone building near the well. If she was lucky, no one would be inside.

Aria slipped through the streets, her heartbeat steady.

Then—

A voice.

Low. Smooth.

"You've been gone a long time, Aria."

She froze.

The voice wasn't familiar.

And yet, something about it sent a chill down her spine.

Slowly, she turned.

A man stood in the moonlight, watching her.

He was tall, draped in a dark cloak, his silver hair catching the light. His face was unnaturally perfect—smooth, unblemished, his eyes a shade of gold that no human should have.

But it wasn't his appearance that unsettled her.

It was his presence.

He felt wrong.

Like he didn't quite belong to this world.

Aria's fingers curled around her dagger. "Who are you?"

The man tilted his head, as if considering her. Then he smiled.

"You already know," he said.

Her heart pounded.

No.

That was impossible.

The man stepped closer. "I've watched over you for a long time. Waiting for you to be ready."

Aria's breath caught in her throat.

Waiting?

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it.

He wasn't human. She could feel it.

And yet, he was familiar.

His voice, his eyes—

A terrible realization struck her.

"You're lying," she whispered.

The man's smile didn't waver.

"Am I?"

The air around them shifted.

A heavy weight pressed against her chest—something ancient, something powerful.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay standing.

"You're not real," she said. "You can't be."

The man simply watched her.

Then, softly—

"I am your father, Aria."

Silence.

The words crashed over her like a wave, knocking the air from her lungs.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "My father is dead."

The man took another step forward.

"That's what they told you."

Her blood ran cold.

The villagers had told her that.

Her mother had told her that.

But what if—

No.

This wasn't possible.

She wouldn't believe it.

Aria drew her dagger, leveling it at the man's chest.

"Stay back," she warned.

The man stopped, amusement flickering in his golden eyes.

"You can fight me if you wish," he said. "But it won't change the truth."

Aria's grip tightened.

Everything in her told her to run.

And yet…

A part of her wanted to know more.

Who was he?

And why had he come now?

She swallowed hard.

"Prove it," she said.

The man's smile deepened.

"Gladly."

Aria's heart pounded as she watched the man before her. His golden eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight, an unnatural radiance that sent a chill down her spine.

"I am your father."

She wanted to reject the idea entirely.

But there was something about him—something eerily familiar in the way he spoke, the way his presence pressed against her mind like an unspoken memory.

Still, she didn't lower her dagger.

"Prove it," she repeated, her voice steadier than she felt.

The man took a slow step forward, his movements effortless, smooth—as if he weren't bound by the same rules of nature as she was.

"You want proof?" His voice was almost teasing, but beneath it lay something darker, something unreadable. "Very well."

He lifted a hand.

The air around them shifted.

A strange pressure built in Aria's chest, a force she couldn't explain. The world seemed to still, the wind ceasing its whisper through the trees, the sounds of the village fading into nothingness.

Then—

Darkness bloomed.

It spiraled from his fingertips, tendrils of shadow twisting and writhing like living smoke.

Aria gasped, stumbling back. The energy radiating from him was unlike anything she had ever felt—ancient, cold, yet oddly familiar.

It reminded her of herself.

The same tingling sensation that had burned beneath her skin when her powers awoke.

The man's golden eyes never left hers.

"You feel it, don't you?" he murmured. "The connection between us."

Aria's breath came in short, uneven gasps.

"No," she whispered. "This is some kind of trick."

But even as she said it, doubt crept into her mind.

The power radiating from him… it was the same kind she had begun to wield.

The same power she didn't understand.

The man took another step forward, and this time, she didn't move.

"The villagers never told you where your gift came from," he said, his voice smooth, hypnotic. "Because they didn't know."

She swallowed hard, gripping her dagger so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Then tell me," she demanded. "Where did it come from?"

The man exhaled, as if he had been waiting for this question.

"From me," he said simply.

Aria's pulse thundered in her ears.

He was lying. He had to be lying.

But deep down, a voice whispered—what if he wasn't?

She had always been different.

Always been feared.

Hadn't she always wondered why?

The man's golden eyes softened slightly, and for the first time, Aria saw something almost human in them.

Regret.

"They took you from me," he said quietly. "Your mother thought she was protecting you."

Aria flinched.

Her mother.

The woman who had barely spoken to her, who had always looked at her with sadness, with fear.

The woman who had died without ever telling her the truth.

"Why should I believe you?" she said, but her voice lacked the same fire as before.

The man reached into his cloak, retrieving something small, something old.

A locket.

He held it out to her.

Aria hesitated.

Her fingers trembled as she took it from his palm. The metal was cool to the touch, aged with time, the chain delicate between her fingers.

She knew this locket.

She had seen it before—in her mother's things.

Slowly, she opened it.

Inside was a tiny, faded painting.

A woman with Aria's eyes. And beside her, a man with golden ones.

Aria's breath caught in her throat.

The resemblance was undeniable.

She snapped the locket shut, her mind spinning.

If this was real—if he was telling the truth—then everything she had believed about her past had been a lie.

Her father wasn't dead.

He wasn't even human.

Aria's stomach twisted. "What are you?" she whispered.

The man studied her, as if deciding how much to tell her.

Then, softly—

"A Shadowborn."

The word sent a shiver through her.

Shadowborn.

It wasn't a name she recognized, but something deep within her did.

A forgotten memory. A buried truth.

She took a shaky breath. "And what does that make me?"

The man smiled slightly.

"More than you've been told," he said. "More than they ever allowed you to be."

Aria clenched her jaw.

She wanted to deny it.

To run.

To pretend she hadn't met him, hadn't heard these things.

But she couldn't.

Because for the first time in her life…

She felt whole.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

The man stepped back, as if giving her space.

"I will not force you to believe me," he said. "But you will seek the truth, Aria. That is who you are."

He turned, his cloak shifting with the night breeze.

"Wait," Aria called, before she could stop herself.

He glanced back.

She hesitated.

There were still so many questions. So much she didn't understand.

But there was only one thing she needed to know right now.

"Will I see you again?" she asked.

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

"You already have," he said.

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows.

Aria stood there long after he was gone, gripping the locket in her palm.

The night stretched on, quiet and vast.

And for the first time, she realized—

She wasn't as alone as she had always believed