CHAPTER 2: UNRAVELING

CHAPTER 2: UNRAVELING

I walk out of class in somewhat of a daze... what in the world was he talking about? What in the hell—how can I be a sub? What the fuck does she mean a moon mark?! My mind is reeling and my body on autopilot as I enter my next class and take my normal seat when the guy that is always pestering me approaches.

I don't get why he's always around. He's never really tried to be friendly but he's never been mean either. I think he's something like a class clown. Maddox Jensen. Tall, perpetually disheveled dark hair, and eyes that always seem to be laughing at some private joke. Most of the other students flock to him—he's got that effortless charisma that some people are just born with. I've never understood why he bothers with me at all.

He asks me something but it doesn't register at first. I shake my head when all the noise comes flooding back and I realize I had been blocking out so much. I took in everything around myself and apologized, "I am sorry, please repeat that?"

He was shocked. I never usually responded... why did I now? Getting by the shock, he repeats himself.

"You don't look yourself, Lena. Are you okay?"

"And how would you know?" The words leave my mouth before I realized how dickish they sounded.

"Well, I know you're not the most friendly person, but Lena, have you actually seen yourself today?"

I panic and bolt out of the class and run straight for a bathroom. I see my reflection and I look ill—he wasn't wrong. My normally olive skin has a grayish pallor to it, and there are dark circles under my eyes that I hadn't noticed this morning. My hands grip the sink so hard my knuckles turn white.

And then I see my eyes shift just a little—a flash of something that shouldn't be there. A glimmer of silver, like moonlight reflecting off water, swirling in my otherwise ordinary brown irises. It lasts only a second, but it was all I needed to go straight home.

I go as fast as I can without drawing attention and get to my apartment and slam the door behind me. I still feel too exposed so I make it to my bed and bury myself under the blankets. I use my phone for light and read the journal starting from the first page.

January 3, 2210

They found another one today. A hybrid, like me. The authorities are calling it a "genetic anomaly," but J says it's becoming harder to hide what we are. There are more of us being born each year—children of mixed heritage, carrying both human and supernatural blood. The Council wants to continue the policy of separation, but J argues that integration is inevitable. "The worlds are already blending," he told them. "We can guide it or be destroyed by it."

I agreed with him, of course. How could I not? Our love is proof that coexistence is possible. Though sometimes I wonder if we're just the lucky ones. The exception, not the rule. So many others have tried and failed. So many have died for loving across the divide.

I turn the page, my heart pounding.

March 17, 2210

The humans are getting suspicious. Their technology is advancing faster than our ability to shield ourselves from it. J says it's only a matter of time before they discover concrete evidence of our existence. The hardliners in the Council want a preemptive strike—to reveal ourselves on our terms, from a position of strength. J and I are fighting for a peaceful approach, but we're in the minority.

If only they could see what I see when I look at the human world. Not enemies, but potential allies. Not threats, but opportunities. We've lived in shadows for millennia. Perhaps it's time to step into the light.

I flip through more pages, learning bits and pieces of a history I never knew existed. A history that apparently belongs to me.

October 12, 2212

J and I have been selected for the diplomatic corps. If—when—the revelation comes, we'll be among the first to make contact with human governments. It's a dangerous position, but an honor nonetheless. The Council thinks my hybrid nature makes me uniquely qualified to understand both sides. And J's position as a Pure gives our mission legitimacy with the traditionalists.

I'm scared, of course. But also hopeful. This could be the beginning of a new era for both our kinds.

And I learn there are hybrids. And that my mom was one. But my dad is something different... she only ever calls him J. And come to think of it, no one ever uses their first names... I wonder why that is? Well, J was someone apparently really important to the subs, and my mom was apparently an oddity with her birthmark, a sign from the moon goddess she said he had told her.

April 4, 2213

We've settled in the human world now. Living among them is strange—constantly maintaining the glamour is exhausting, but necessary. J has an easier time of it than I do. The Pures always do. Their abilities are stronger, more innate. For hybrids like me, it's a constant effort.

But it's worth it. Our mission is too important to fail. The Council has given us five years to assess the situation, to determine if humans are ready for the truth. If they're not... I don't want to think about what might happen then.

I skip ahead, searching for more information about my father, about what a "Pure" is, but my mother is frustratingly vague. It's as if she's writing in code, or as if she expects anyone reading this to already understand what she's talking about.

Then I find an entry from shortly after I was born:

June 30, 2214

The mark appeared last night. I knew it would—my mother always said the crescent takes time to form, usually within the first six weeks after birth. J was concerned, but I assured him it's a blessing, not a curse. In the old stories, the Moon's Marked are destined for greatness. My grandmother used to tell me that the Goddess only places her symbol on those who will change the world.

J worries it makes Lena too recognizable, too easy to track if anyone ever learned what to look for. He wants me to keep it glamoured at all times, even from her. I agreed, but in my heart, I know someday she'll need to understand what it means. The power it represents. The responsibility.

For now, though, she's just our little girl. Our miracle. The first child born to a hybrid and a Pure in a generation.

My hand instinctively moves to the small of my back, reaching awkwardly behind me. There's nothing unusual there—no mark, no crescent. But then again, my mother mentioned a glamour. A magical disguise, I assume, though the details are frustratingly scarce.

I continue reading, hungry for more information, but a sudden noise outside my apartment door makes me freeze. Footsteps, pausing right outside. Then a soft knock.

"Lena?" It's Maddox's voice. "I know you're in there. You left your bag in class."

I hold my breath, hoping he'll just leave it and go away.

"Look, I'm not trying to bug you. But after you ran out like that... are you okay? Also, Professor Winters sent me. He said to tell you 'they know.'"

My blood turns to ice in my veins. They know? Who knows? About me? About the journal?

Another knock, more insistent this time. "Lena, seriously. Open up. It's not safe for you to be alone right now."

I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. How does Maddox know Professor Winters? Why would Winters send him to deliver a message? Unless...

Unless Maddox is one of them too.

I slide out of bed, my legs unsteady beneath me. Part of me wants to ignore him, to pretend I'm not here, but something in his voice—an urgency I've never heard before—makes me move toward the door.

"How do I know I can trust you?" I call through the closed door.

There's a pause, then: "You don't. But Winters said to tell you that the crescent waxes with the blood moon. He said you'd understand."

I don't understand, not really, but it matches what I've just read in the journal. About the crescent mark, about the moon.

With trembling fingers, I unlock the door, opening it just a crack. Maddox stands there, my backpack slung over one shoulder, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

"May I come in?" he asks.

"Only if you tell me what the hell is going on," I reply, but I step back, allowing him to enter.

He glances around my small apartment, then turns to face me. "How much has Winters told you?"

"Almost nothing. Just that my parents weren't who I thought they were. That I'm not who I thought I was." I hold up the journal. "And he gave me this."

Maddox nods. "It's a start. But there's a lot more you need to know, and not much time." He looks straight into my eyes, and I have the strangest feeling he can see past all my defenses, past the shell I've built around myself over the years.

"Lena, your eyes are shifting. The glamour is wearing off. Do you know what that means?"

I think about the silver flash I saw in the bathroom mirror. "It means I'm... one of them. A sub."

"Not just any sub," he says quietly. "You're something almost unheard of. Both your parents carried supernatural blood—your father a Pure, your mother a marked hybrid. That makes you something... unprecedented."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," he says, his own eyes suddenly shifting, pupils elongating into vertical slits like a cat's, "that you're neither Pure nor hybrid. You're something new, something unique—a convergence of bloodlines that hasn't existed before. And once they realize what you are, they'll never stop hunting you."