The Bloodline

Valeria's breath caught in her throat.

Her mother looked… older, but not in the way time usually carves a face. It was like she had lived through a thousand storms—each one leaving a mark deeper than the last.

"You're supposed to be dead," Valeria whispered.

Her mother stepped into the light. "I had to disappear. For you."

"For me?" Valeria laughed, bitterly. "You left me in the dark. Alone. With questions that haunted every night of my life."

"You weren't ready."

"Ready for what?" Valeria snapped. "To find a wall of numbers? To hear a voice tell me I'm next?"

Her mother nodded slowly. "You've started remembering… haven't you?"

Flashes hit Valeria like lightning:

A basement with a flickering bulb.

Four children, hands linked, chanting numbers.

A voice whispering, "One of you will survive."

Valeria staggered back. "No… No, that wasn't real."

"It was," her mother said. "And you were the fourth."

She walked to the table and ran her hand over the numbers.

> 1. 2. 3.

"They're gone," she said quietly. "You were the only one who escaped."

"What happened to them?"

Her mother looked up, pain in her eyes. "They were taken. Experimented on. By a group that believed numbers could unlock consciousness. You were all part of it. I was part of it."

Valeria's heart dropped. "You knew?"

"I helped create it," her mother confessed. "Until I realized what we were doing. I tried to save you."

Valeria stepped back, voice shaking. "You're one of them."

"I was. Now I'm the last one who can stop them."

Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the woods.

Glass shattered behind them. A shot—too close.

"Get down!" her mother yelled, pulling her behind the table.

Through the broken window, Valeria saw shadows moving. Armed. Searching.

"Who are they?" she whispered.

Her mother loaded a small revolver. "The ones who never stopped counting."