PART 5: FATE?

Another three years had blurred into the tapestry of my meticulously constructed normalcy. Mary was now fifteen, a young woman on the cusp of adulthood, brimming with an almost terrifying blend of magical power and burgeoning confidence. I, Jack Mikus, was twelve. Still unremarkable. Still magically inert. A solid B-grade in all subjects, a consistent loser in every spar. Just as planned.

Today was Mary's last full day at the manor before her departure for the Midland Academy tomorrow. The air was thick with a strange mixture of excitement and melancholy. Karl was bustling about, overseeing the packing of her trunks, barking orders at the servants with an uncharacteristic flurry of nervous energy. Jane, usually so composed, kept dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, her smiles fragile.

Mary, however, was vibrant. Her emerald eyes sparkled with anticipation, even as she clung to me, giving me bone-crushing hugs at every opportunity. "Oh, Jack! I'll miss you so much! Promise you'll visit! Promise you'll write!"

"Of course, Mary," I'd reply, my voice carefully modulated to convey sibling affection.

Internally, I was calculating the statistical probability of me ever venturing out of this manor for anything less than a life-or-death emergency. Low. Very low.

Our "last spar" was, predictably, a resounding victory for Mary. She'd chosen her real training sword for the occasion, a polished steel blade that glinted menacingly in the afternoon sun. I, of course, stuck with my wooden one.

"Ready, Jack?" she'd asked, her stance already perfect, her grip firm.

"As I'll ever be!" I'd chirped, adopting my signature stance of mild trepidation.

The fight was over in less than a minute. She was faster, stronger, and her movements now possessed a fluidity that spoke of years of dedicated training. My wooden sword clattered to the ground, followed by a theatrical groan from me.

"Hah! Still got it!" Mary crowed, tapping the flat of her blade against my shoulder. "You'll get me next time, little brother!"

No, I won't, I thought, dusting myself off. Because there won't be a next time. You'll be off being a hero in Midland, and I'll be here, mastering the art of invisibility.

The farewell dinner was a subdued affair. Jane had prepared all of Mary's favorite dishes, and Karl regaled us with overly long anecdotes about his own (doubtless exaggerated) youthful exploits. Mary ate heartily, her face alight with dreams of the future. I ate slowly, savoring the familiar comfort of the meal, a silent prayer forming in my mind: Please, let this peace last. Let nothing disturb it.

Afterward, we retreated to our rooms. The manor fell silent, save for the distant chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves outside my window. I lay in bed, staring up at the canopy, a strange sense of unease prickling at my skin. It wasn't a premonition, not exactly.

More like a subtle disruption in the usual fabric of reality. The air felt… heavy. Oppressive.

Something was going to happen. I could almost taste it.

But I dismissed it. My paranoia, an old habit from my past life, was simply resurfacing. I was safe here. Protected. I was Jack Mikus, the unremarkable noble child. No one cared about me. No one would target us.

The familiar lethargy of the approaching sleep began to pull me down, wrapping me in its gentle embrace. My thoughts drifted, coalescing into the comfortable patterns of a quiet life. Basket weaving. Competitive napping. The gentle art of avoiding all meaningful interaction…

Then, it hit.

A scream. High-pitched, raw, and utterly, unequivocally Mary's.

It tore through the night, ripping through the fragile fabric of my slumber, slamming into my consciousness with the force of a physical blow. It wasn't a playful shriek, or an angry one. It was a cry of pure, unadulterated terror.

And then, the smell.

It was faint at first, a metallic tang on the night air. Then, it grew stronger, richer, overwhelming. The scent of blood.

My eyes snapped open. Every nerve ending in my body, dormant for years, now screamed with hyper-awareness. The world, which had been comfortably blurred by my cultivated normalcy, snapped into razor-sharp focus. The soft glow of the moon through my window suddenly seemed stark, illuminating every dust motes dancing in the air.

Blood.

The word echoed in my mind, not with the terror I would expect from a twelve-year-old, but with a chilling, almost nostalgic familiarity. It was the scent of my previous life. The scent of power. The scent of… me.

Something awakened deep within me. A cold, ruthless efficiency. The beast, long-suppressed, stirred from its slumber, stretching its claws. The carefully constructed persona of "Jack Mikus" shattered like fragile glass, revealing the predatory intellect of Kenji beneath.

My heart, which had been beating at a normal, healthy pace just moments before, now thudded like a war drum in my chest. Not with fear, but with a dark, exhilarating anticipation.

I was out of bed in an instant, a blur of motion. My bare feet barely touched the cold stone floor. I moved with a speed and agility I hadn't possessed in this life, a fluidity that spoke of honed instincts, not a twelve-year-old's clumsy movements. The manor, usually a comforting maze of familiar corridors, now became a hunting ground.

Mary. My sister. My responsibility.

I burst out of my room, ignoring the sounds of commotion rising from downstairs, ignoring Karl's booming commands and Jane's escalating sobs. My senses were locked onto a single, overriding target: the source of that scream, the origin of that intoxicating scent.

Mary's room.

I was there in seconds, slamming the door open. The sight that greeted me was a nightmare. The room was utterly ransacked. Furniture overturned, tapestries torn, belongings strewn everywhere. And the blood. It was everywhere. Splashes on the walls, dark pools on the rug, a gruesome trail leading away from the open window.

Mary wasn't there.

A cold, unfamiliar sensation tightened in my chest. Fear. Not for myself, but for her. My little sister. My overly enthusiastic, terribly talented, intensely loving sister.

No. Not Mary. Anyone but her.

The fear, however, was quickly overshadowed by something far more potent: rage. A cold, silent, all-consuming fury that burned with the intensity of a dying star. Someone had dared. Someone had dared to enter my domain, to harm my family. To touch my sister.

The scent of blood, fresh and potent, pulled me like an invisible string. It led out of the window, down to the moonlit garden. I vaulted over the sill, landing silently on the soft earth below.

The air was alive with the chaotic sounds of the manor awakening. Shouts, the clanging of armor as guards scrambled, Jane's heartbroken wails echoing from within. "Mary! My baby!"

Karl's voice, thick with desperation, bellowed, "Jack! Stay inside! It's dangerous! Come back!"

I ignored them all. Their pleas were distant, irrelevant background noise. My focus was absolute. My body moved without conscious thought, propelled by an ancient, primal instinct. Every nerve ending vibrated with suppressed power, with the ghost of a past life that was now fully awake.

The trail of blood was undeniable, leading away from the manor, through the manicured gardens, towards the dark, forbidding expanse of the surrounding forest.

They won't get far. The thought was a cold, hard promise.

My mind raced, the analytical processes of Kenji kicking into overdrive. Kidnapping. For what purpose? Ransom? Or something far more sinister? Whoever they were, they had made a grave mistake. They had underestimated the background character. They had dared to touch what was mine.

And for that, death couldn't be fooled. It had found me once, but I had returned. And now, I was coming for them. Not as Jack Mikus, the timid, unremarkable child. But as Kenji. The one who understood blood, who reveled in violence, who knew how to make things… end.

The scent grew stronger with every stride, pulling me deeper into the shadows of the forest. The night was alive with the promise of carnage. And for the first time in this new life, I felt a familiar, exhilarating thrill.

My peaceful life. My normal life. It had been shattered. And now, they would pay. Dearly.