Chapter 14 — Awakening in Blood
Kevin's eyelids fluttered open, heavy and raw. Cold air bit into his skin. The first sensation that gripped him was panic — his body bare, vulnerable against the rough earth beneath him.
He tried to move, but a wave of dizziness washed over him. Slowly, his gaze shifted downward. The ground beneath was soaked in dark liquid — thick, glistening pools of black and crimson blood pooled around where he had lain.
A cold shiver ran down his spine as the gravity of the situation crashed over him. The blood wasn't his — or maybe it was. He couldn't tell anymore. The lines between nightmare and reality blurred.
"How... how did I end up here?" he whispered to himself, voice hoarse and trembling. His mind raced, grasping for answers that refused to come.
What he had once dismissed as movies, myths, and fairy tales—stories of curses, monsters, and ancient bloodlines—now clawed at the edges of his sanity.
They were real.
And they were hunting him.
His heart pounded fiercely in his chest, the echo of his screams still lingering in the storm's aftermath. Questions crashed in his mind:
What am I?
Who am I really?
What do I do now?
Kevin pushed himself upright, the cold forest pressing in around him, shadows deep and ominous beneath twisted branches. Every instinct screamed for him to run, to hide, to survive.
But where could he go?
What awaited him beyond the trees — and beyond his own unraveling mind?
He swallowed hard, the taste of iron thick on his tongue, and took a shaky breath.
This was no longer a story to watch from the sidelines. It was his life.
And the fight was just beginning.
Kevin's breath hitched as he pushed himself fully upright, shivering from the cold and the weight of the blood around him. His eyes scanned his bare skin, desperate for some explanation, some clue to make sense of the chaos consuming his mind.
Kevin's fingers froze over the glowing black-and-crimson symbol on his left forearm. The warmth beneath it was unnatural — not just heat, but a presence, something alive. Something watching him from within.
His breathing grew ragged. His hand dropped, and his eyes darted to the other arm.
His stomach turned to ice.
Another mark.
Different, yet somehow the same — the jagged lines spiraled upward toward his shoulder, faint black veins radiating outward.
"No…" Kevin croaked, his voice cracking.
With shaking hands, he ran his palms over his chest, his ribs, his abdomen — nothing. But as he turned, twisting to see over his shoulder, his heart stopped.
Carved into the skin of his back — sprawling, brutal, ancient — was the full crest of Cain's curse. It spread from the base of his neck to the middle of his spine, black lines intertwined with crimson veins, an intricate sigil of anguish and power.
It pulsed faintly, like a second heartbeat.
He fell to his knees, hands clutching his hair as he stared at the bloody earth beneath him.
"This isn't me… this isn't real…"
But it was.
The mark burned against his skin, and the weight of what it meant began to crush him.
The stories… the whispers… Lilith, Maya, the guardians, the way they'd looked at him… none of it was just fantasy. None of it was a dream.
He was cursed.
And hunted.
Kevin stumbled to his feet, the cold air biting against his skin, his bare body painted with streaks of black and crimson blood. Around him the forest was eerily silent now — the storm that had raged earlier had given way to a suffocating calm.
Every tree loomed like a sentinel. Every shadow seemed to breathe, watching.
He staggered forward, his steps uneven. His mind spun.
What the hell am I supposed to do? Where do I go? Who do I even trust? What do they want from me?
His pulse raced as his thoughts spiraled.
Maya tried to kill me. Lilith… she wants me for something. Those other three — what are they really after?
A branch cracked nearby. Kevin spun, wide-eyed, heart hammering in his chest.
Nothing.
Just shadows.
Yet somehow, he felt it — eyes watching, things moving, keeping their distance for now.
"Is this what you wanted?" he whispered hoarsely into the trees, unsure if he was talking to Lilith, the guardians, God, or himself. "You want me to turn into… into one of them? You want me to carry this… this thing?"
His voice cracked on the last word.
The mark on his back seared, sending him to his knees again with a strangled cry.
He pressed his forehead to the wet earth, fists clenched.
Tears mingled with the blood dripping from his skin.
Then, something cold and certain settled into his chest.
If they all wanted a piece of him — if this mark meant he couldn't run anymore — then maybe, just maybe…
He'd stop running.
But first… he had to figure out what he really was.
And how to survive the night.