Chapter 3
The void was not empty.
It pressed in on Jinn from all sides—a vast, suffocating darkness that whispered of forgotten things. He floated, disembodied, with no sense of up or down, no feeling of his own limbs. Only a deep, resonant hum vibrated through the nothingness, a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was cold, so cold, yet it simply was.
He remembered the crash. The blinding flash. The crumbling building. And then, the searing pain, the blurring vision, the woman's voice—a desperate plea he couldn't quite grasp before the darkness claimed him. But even in this profound emptiness, a new awareness began to stir.
He found himself standing on an endless, featureless plain of pure white light. Before him, countless pages floated in an ethereal stream, unfurling and turning as if an invisible hand guided them. Each page was not filled with text, but with vivid, moving pictures. He saw impossible landscapes: towering cities of crystal, shadowy figures cloaked in ancient robes, battles fought with light and shadow. He saw faces, etched with both wisdom and sorrow, their eyes glowing with an inner intensity. He saw symbols he didn't recognize, etched onto stone and flesh, pulsing with an unseen energy. It was a silent, flowing chronicle of unknown events, a narrative that felt both deeply personal and profoundly ancient. He didn't understand what he was seeing, but a primal part of him recognized their significance, logging them away in a corner of his mind, waiting for future understanding.
"Tick… tick… tick…"
The sound echoed through this mental space, faint at first, then growing louder, more insistent. It was the rhythmic pulse of a clock, impossibly distant yet profoundly intimate. He felt it not with his ears, but with some deeper part of himself, a new sense awakening within the profound silence. As the ticking intensified, the stream of images accelerated, then abruptly ceased.
Then, a sudden, sharp jolt, as if struck by lightning. His consciousness snapped back, violently, to his body.
He gasped, a ragged, desperate sound, as air flooded his lungs. His eyes flew open, but all he saw was a blurry white ceiling and the faint outline of medical equipment. A dull ache resonated through his entire body, a pervasive soreness as if every muscle had been stretched and re-knit. The sterile smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils.
"He's awake!" a calm, professional voice stated.
A woman in a crisp white lab coat leaned over him. Her dark hair was pulled back neatly, and her expression was one of focused concern. She held a small penlight and shone it briefly into his eyes. "Can you hear me, young man? Do you know where you are?"
He tried to speak, but his throat felt dry, his tongue thick. He managed a raspy, "Hospital?"
A faint, reassuring smile touched her lips. "Yes, that's right. You're in a private medical suite. My name is Dr. Aris Thorne. You were in a very serious accident." She paused, her eyes assessing him carefully. "Do you remember what happened?"
The memories flooded back—the rain, the bizarre portal, the flash, the impact. The terrifying crumble of the building. His father…
A wave of crushing grief hit him, a stark contrast to the strange, detached observations of the pages he'd seen in his mind. He remembered his father's face, etched with worry. He remembered the car flipping. Was he…?
Dr. Thorne's expression softened. "Take it easy. Just focus on breathing. You suffered a severe concussion and some deep bruising, but nothing was broken. It's truly remarkable, given the circumstances."
As she spoke, the door to the room opened quietly. A woman entered, elegant and composed, with long, dark hair and piercing, intelligent eyes. She was dressed in a simple yet expensive-looking dress. She moved with an aura of quiet authority, approaching Dr. Thorne with a concerned but steady gaze.
"Doctor Thorne," the woman said, her voice smooth and refined. "How is our patient?"
Dr. Thorne turned to her, a respectful nod in her greeting. "Mrs. Valerius. He just woke up. He's still disoriented, but his vitals are strong. He's truly lucky."
"Thank you, Doctor," Mrs. Valerius replied, her gaze briefly settling on Jinn with a mixture of pity and keen observation. "Please, take all the time you need. Ensure he has everything he requires for a full recovery."
Dr. Thorne nodded and began to pack away her instruments. "I'll leave you to it, Mrs. Valerius. He's stable, just needs rest and observation for now. I'll check on him again later." With a final glance at Jinn, she exited the room, leaving him alone with Mrs. Valerius.
Mrs. Valerius approached the bed, her movements graceful. She pulled a chair closer and sat down, her expression gentle but firm. "Hello, Jinn. I am Elara Valerius. You are safe here. My husband and I found you after the incident."
Jinn blinked, still trying to process everything. "My… my father? Where is he?" The words were heavy, thick with fear.
Elara's gaze softened further, tinged with profound sadness. "Jinn, I am so very sorry. Your father… he didn't survive the crash. The paramedics confirmed it at the scene."
The words hit him like another shockwave. His father was gone. The constant presence, the gruff but loving figure who had always been there—gone. A cold, hollow ache settled in his chest, deeper than any physical pain. He closed his eyes, a single tear escaping.
Elara gave him a moment before continuing, her voice soft. "We found you amidst the wreckage. Our family has… certain resources that allowed us to reach the scene before the chaos fully set in. We saw your vehicle, and sensing something… unusual, we brought you here to our estate. This isn't a hospital, Jinn. This is our home."
Jinn opened his eyes, taking in the opulent room. It was far too grand for a hospital, adorned with rich wooden furniture and tapestries. He was in a sprawling mansion.
"My husband, Lord Caspian Valerius, is the leader of the Bloodline Academy," Elara continued, her voice gaining a quiet gravitas. "It's an institution where individuals with… awakened abilities are trained. Abilities that manifest typically around the age of eighteen." She paused, her eyes fixed on his. "What you experienced, Jinn, what you saw in that alley… it was not ordinary. And what happened to you afterward, your recovery… it was not ordinary either."
She gestured vaguely. "Our world, Jinn, is far more complex than the history books teach. Those 'vampires' your teacher spoke of? They are real. And there are others. And there are those like us, who stand against them, often with unique gifts of our own."
Elara leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "My husband believes you possess an extraordinary awakening. Something very ancient, perhaps even related to the origins of our world. He is eager to speak with you when you are stronger. For now, know that you are safe here, among allies."
A distant bell chimed, echoing through the large house.
"My children will be coming in soon," Elara said, a gentle smile returning to her face. "You'll meet Kael and Lyra. They're around your age, seventeen, and they'll be joining the Academy soon themselves. And then there's our youngest, Kyra, she's ten. They're all very curious about our new guest."
Jinn felt a swirl of emotions – grief, confusion, a growing sense of wonder, and a prickle of fear. His father was gone. His world had shattered, only to be rebuilt into something entirely new and fantastical. Vampires were real. Special abilities were real. And he, Jinn, was now somehow part of it. The pages in his mind, those unknown events, suddenly didn't feel so unknown anymore.
His eyes drifted back to the amulet around his neck, now a tangible weight, its ancient inscriptions feeling more significant than ever.