Chapter 3

Cecil lowered her hand. The whirlwind died instantly, the debris clattering to the floor around her like fallen soldiers. She stepped forward, the heavy velvet of her gown brushing against the ruined floorboards.

She stopped directly in front of Aedan. He was shaking, his head bowed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He didn't dare look up at those glowing golden eyes.

Cecil reached out. Her fingers, cold as ice, pressed firmly against Aedan's sweaty forehead.

A jolt of heat shot through Aedan's skull. It wasn't painful, but it was invasive. It felt like a searchlight rummaging through the dark corners of his mind, flipping through his memories, his thoughts, his very essence. He saw flashes of his own life, but from her perspective: the roar of a car engine, the artificial flash of a camera, the garbled noise of a thousand voices screaming from a flat, glowing rectangle. Countless chaotic images and words flooded her consciousness... a public trial ceremony called a "reality show," a system of digital currency, the complex web of a thing called "Hollywood." He tried to pull away, but his body was locked in place, paralyzed by the simple touch of her fingertips.

A faint, golden light seeped from beneath her fingers, casting strange shadows on Aedan's face.

Cecil closed her eyes, her expression unreadable. She held the connection for a long, agonizing moment. Then, her brow furrowed. A deep, disgusted crease appeared between her eyebrows.

Her eyes snapped open, the gold burning brighter. "Sanguis... hic tenuescere?" she whispered, the words ancient and sharp. Then, as the new language settled into her mind, her voice became clearer, laced with an archaic cadence. "The bloodline... has thinned to this? It is an insult to the family."

Aedan stared up at her, his eyes wide with shock. He understood her. And the words hit him harder than his grandfather's cane ever could. He opened his mouth to argue, to scream, to defend himself, but his throat was sealed shut. Not a single sound could escape.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The muffled sound of heavy boots and shouting came from the hallway outside. The sealed doors shuddered in their frames.

"Security! Break it down!" a voice shouted from the other side.

The oak doors splintered inward. The cameraman Aedan had shoved earlier, his face scraped and bruised, rushed in, flanked by two burly security guards. He was holding a backup camera, the red recording light blinking furiously.

"Get off him, you freak!" the cameraman yelled, pointing the lens directly at Cecil and the kneeling Aedan.

The camera's focus locked onto Cecil's face. The golden eyes. The ancient dress. The glowing hand on Aedan's forehead. It was a viral moment captured in high definition.

Cecil turned her head slowly toward the intruders. The golden light of her eyes reflected in the glass lens of the camera.

The cameraman flinched, his hands trembling, but he kept the camera rolling. The live feed was broadcasting to the world.

Cecil stared at the black box in his hands. She could feel it. The subtle, invasive sensation of being watched by thousands of unseen eyes. The device was stealing her image, dissecting it, broadcasting it.

Her eyes narrowed. A dangerous, cold fury crossed her features.

She raised her free hand, her palm facing the camera.

The air in the room changed. It became charged, heavy with static. The hair on Aedan's arms stood on end. A sharp, metallic smell filled his nostrils-the smell of an impending storm.

The lights in the gallery flickered wildly. The electricity in the walls hummed a deafening pitch.

Inside the camera, the circuit board began to overheat. Smoke poured from the vents. The cameraman yelped, the plastic casing burning his hands.

A blinding blue arc of electricity erupted from the wall outlet. It wasn't a natural spark; it was a controlled, violent strike. The lightning bolt shot across the room and slammed into the camera.

The cameraman screamed, the shock throwing him backward. The camera was ripped from his hands and hurled into the air.

But the lightning didn't stop. The blue arc twisted in mid-air, deflecting off the exploding camera, and lunged straight for Cecil.

"Watch out!" Aedan tried to scream, but it came out as a hoarse, breathless croak.

Cecil didn't flinch. She didn't move her hand from Aedan's forehead. She didn't even blink. A faint, cruel smile touched the corners of her lips.

The lightning struck her open palm.

Instead of charring her flesh, the violent electrical current simply... vanished. It flowed into her skin, absorbed like water into a sponge. The blue light traveled up her arm, illuminating the veins beneath her pale skin, before dissipating into her core.

The golden glow surrounding Cecil flared, bright enough to cast harsh shadows across the entire room. The sheer power radiating from her was suffocating.

She opened her hand. Tiny blue arcs of electricity danced across her fingertips like playful pets. She had tamed the lightning.

The security guards and the cameraman didn't wait to see what she would do next. The cameraman, his eyes wide with terror, tried to scramble up, but his limbs wouldn't obey. The guards grabbed him under the arms, his body limp, and dragged his unconscious form from the room. They fled through the broken doors, their screams echoing down the hallway.

Cecil turned her gaze to Sterling, who was still prostrate on the floor. "Remove the insects," she commanded, her voice echoing with authority.

Sterling scrambled up, his joints cracking. "Yes, Matriarch," he stammered, his voice trembling. He hurried out of the room, shouting orders to clear the hallway.

Cecil looked back down at Aedan. She pulled her hand away from his forehead. The golden light faded, the oppressive pressure vanished.

Aedan collapsed onto his hands and knees, gasping for air. His lungs burned. His whole body was trembling. He stared up at the woman who had just caught lightning with her bare hands.

His mind, his reality, everything he thought he knew, shattered into a million pieces.