Welcome to Redwaters - 13. Chapter 13

 

The first lights of day began to filter through the curtains in Hadrian's room. Zain woke up disoriented, realizing he had fallen asleep there, watching over the immortal the previous night. He quickly turned his head to the left. Hadrian was still sleeping soundly, his face bathed in serenity.

Despite the trials they had gone through just a few hours prior, Zain couldn't ignore the butterflies in his stomach, the gentle excitement that enveloped him upon waking up next to him. Just thinking about it sent waves of warmth through him, and he savored the stolen moment, fleeting as it was. The last few days had brought them much closer than he would have thought possible.

However, this newfound closeness also plunged him into a sea of anxiety.
His growing attachment to the immortal troubled him, like an inner storm he struggled to control. Every moment in Hadrian's presence made every cell in his body vibrate, and the kisses they shared, rare as they were, had the power to make him forget his own existence.

What would happen when they would cross another threshold, when he would wake up next to him after a night where they had no longer the control over the urges that consumed them? Just by looking at Hadrian, Zain was already lost. He shivered at the thought of the consequences of their souls completely surrendering to each other, in the most intimate way.

Zain’s amnesia had erased most of his memories, particularly those concerning his views on intimacy and any potential past physical relationships. Hadrian had confided in him about having extensive experience in that area, and with both sexes... whereas Zain might just as well be a novice in the matter. How could they be compatible if that was the case? Did he truly feel ready to explore that aspect of their relationship?

Every fiber of his being seemed to crave that exploration, a deep and visceral desire that pushed him towards Hadrian. But his mind played tricks on him. The absence of memories, the lack of reference points… it all plunged him into a whirlwind of doubts. He felt both terribly drawn to the immortal and paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, of being entirely consumed by these unprecedented feelings.

Zain knew he had to confront this new reality, these burgeoning desires. His heart pounded at the thought of letting go…

"Hey..." Hadrian murmured, stretching gently, squinting as he slowly emerged from sleep. A mischievous smile appeared on his lips when he saw Zain laying beside him.

"Hey..." Zain replied softly, sitting up slightly under the thin blanket.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, worry coloring his gaze. The injuries the immortal had sustained the previous day had plunged him into a state of deep anxiety, but Hadrian seemed to have surprisingly recovered.

"The sole advantage of this curse is its regenerative powers.. Even though I feel like I got ran over by a train, all visible traces disappear quickly," Hadrian said, pulling the blanket back to reveal his body. The fractures and cuts from the previous day had miraculously vanished, his skin unmarked, without a single scar.

Reassured, Zain lost himself for a moment in the sight of Hadrian's nearly naked body, clad only in white boxers. His perfectly sculpted physique seemed straight out of a dream… Yet, he was really there, lying beside him, and Zain couldn't help but stare at the divinely defined V shape of his lower abdomen before quickly looking away, flushing. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to control himself. But deep down, did he really want to keep control?

"I have to get going, it’s the big game today, and Ouray wants to check in with me before I head to high school."

"Not so fast... Hadrian murmured, reaching out to pull Zain into a tender embrace. He added, kissing the back of his neck softly, "Stay a bit longer..

Zain's skin burned at the touch of Hadrian's lips on his neck, and in a shiver of ecstasy, he grabbed Hadrian's face to kiss him passionately.

The two men gave themselves over to each other in a series of intense kisses, so passionate that the sound of their hearts made the immense bed they were on tremble.

Hadrian's excitement reached unexplored heights as he let his lips trail down from Zain's neck to his chest, brushing against his half-open shirt. Unlike the immortal, Zain had fallen asleep in his clothes from the previous day. With an agile motion, Hadrian unbuttoned the shirt, continuing the passionate descent of his lips along the young prince's chest until he reached his navel. Zain was transported by the intensity of Hadrian's kisses, feeling his desire grow to an almost unbearable point.

His pants tightened under the pressure of the uncontrollable desire. Hadrian's skillful hands glided with expert delicacy along Zain's abdomen, while his mouth traced a burning line of temptation on his trembling skin. Each ragged breath, each stifled sigh from Zain spoke of a pleasure so intense it threatened to make him explode. The tension rose, intertwining with Hadrian's fiery excitement as he savored every shiver from his partner.

Suddenly, as if overwhelmed by a whirlwind of pleasure and panic, Zain moved away violently, abruptly breaking the moment as he jumped off the bed. His words, stammered breathlessly, his disheveled hair, and his body drenched in sweat betrayed a heart-wrenching internal struggle.

"I have to... I really have to go!" he gasped, struggling to catch his breath.

Hadrian, his lungs burning with unreleased tension, let out a resigned sigh. His head fell heavily onto his pillow, his mind still clouded by the intensity of the interrupted moment. He could have continued endlessly, savoring every taste of Zain, but he would respect the boundaries the boy set, ready to wait as long as necessary.

Zain rushed out of the room, his heart pounding and his senses heightened. The air around him seemed to vibrate, amplifying his distress. He longed to share his turmoil, to confide in someone, but to whom? Deep down, he knew there was only one person who could listen and advise him. A poignant intuition urged him to seek his mother... but where was she? Who was she? A cold shiver ran down his spine at the thought of all these unanswered questions, plunging him into a feeling of abyssal loneliness.

"A cold shower," he muttered to himself firmly, trying to regain control of his emotions. He definitely couldn't present himself to Ouray in such a state of confusion.

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Ouray paced back and forth in the mansion's library, his mind swirling as the sunlight streaming through the large bay window seemed to dance with his restless thoughts. Darcey's return to town always had this disruptive effect on him, a mix of worry and anticipation... The ghost of their history and the abrupt way their romance had ended hovered around him today more than ever since the resolution of Carolina's murder... He stopped in front of the large whiteboard, set up specifically for his session with Zain, and waited, the temporary ink marker tight in his hand.

The situation was serious. Their exchange needed to be discreet , to avoid Darcey’s suspicious about the true identity of the boy. The Order to which she belonged must not discover the complexity of what they had uncovered about Zain. The young man, although still mysterious, showed undeniable signs of an extraordinary nature.

Ouray sighed, his thoughts returning again and again to the same point: he would have preferred if Zain didn't go to high school. He wished he could devote the entire day to research and training. But after the boy’s exceptional feat—saving the missing players from those cursed paintings, having his powers hijacked by Sienna, and facing the chaos that ensued—Zain deserved a semblance of normalcy. A brief respite in the storm of supernatural events that seemed to follow him.

Zain entered the room, invigorated after his shower, ready to explore the mysteries of his lost identity. He hoped that Ouray's discoveries would shed more light on his enigmatic past, perhaps unlocking the path to his memories.

Taking a seat next to the makeshift board, Zain glanced at the array of markers, his anticipation growing. "Where do we start?" he asked, his voice tinged with both eagerness and apprehension.

Ouray's hand moved across the board, writing in bold letters: "Decipherer Prince ." Zain repeated the words, his forehead creasing in confusion.

"What does that mean?" he queried, seeking answers in Ouray's calm gaze.

"Apparently, it's you," Ouray explained solemnly. "From my journey to the realm of the dead to our conversation with the ancient trees, everything points to this designation for you."

" Decipherer Prince," Zain murmured, the title resonating within him despite its unfamiliarity. It explained his taste for luxury but still left his quest for memories out of reach.

As Ouray continued to write beneath the title, listing powers such as : telekinesis, transmutation, portal magic, empathy/energy manipulation, teleportation, and partial necromancy, Zain felt overwhelmed by the complexity of it all.

"Wow," he exclaimed, his voice tinged with confusion. "That's a lot of very serious-sounding words, half of which I barely understand."

"You managed to lift Hadrian off the ground the night you arrived," Ouray began to explain, his hands rising slowly as if to illustrate the movement. "Succeeded in teleporting yourself out of the car hurtling towards the mansion’s gate and stopped it using your mind," he added, briefly mimicking telekinetic gestures with an admiring raised eyebrow.

"You managed to locate Hadrian in the cabin," he continued, pointing a finger at an invisible point as if tracing a line in the air. "Revitalized him when the magical barrier had almost killed him," he went on, gradually realizing the extent of the young man's exceptional abilities as he listed their manifestations.

"You used transmutation by merging Tucker's gang cars, creating the fountain in the entrance..." he concluded, his hands briefly coming together in a merging gesture, as if shaping matter between his palms.

"Partial necromancy?!" Zain exclaimed, his brows furrowing, his hands raising slightly in confusion.

"The magical wave that emanated from you upon your arrival in Redwaters brought back Sienna's spirits as well as the white wolves from the dead, but in only in spectral form, not solid, hence the 'partial'..." explained Ouray as best he could.

Zain nodded, finally expressing a broader understanding of his abilities.

"Your powers and your access to their use seem directly linked to your feelings, your emotions," deduced Ouray, his voice imbued with gravity, as if revealing an ancient secret. "Which certainly explains why Sienna, when she was able to hijack them when you were inside the painting, had better control over their extent, being consumed by her rage..." he added, his gaze piercing into Zain's, as if seeking to delve into his soul.

"You must exercise to channel and redirect your emotions in a way that you gives you real mastery over your gifts," he insisted, like a teacher imparting his most precious advice .

Zain felt unsettled, as if a shadow had fallen over his being.

"Since she used my powers, it's like Sienna left a mark... a dark imprint on my being, something sinister weighing on my conscience..." he confessed, his voice filled with sadness and confusion.

Ouray lowered his head slightly, understanding the weight of Zain's revelation. "You have never used your gifts for evil until now. Dark magic leaves traces on the individual who practices it, or as in today's case, on the one from whom it originates," he explained, seeking to shed some comforting light on the situation .

Zain lowered his gaze , overwhelmed by the very idea that his gifts could have been tainted, used against Hadrian.

"Since you’ve been here, what did you remember relating to your home dimension?" Ouray asked, his marker ready to etch the boy's recollection onto the board.

"I have fragments of memories... Like my nineteenth birthday, i remember a celebration... The constant feeling that I could fly if I tried, especially since i flew with Garth..." Zain began, his words floating in the air like barely sketched puzzle pieces.

Ouray watched him, fascinated by the fragments of Zain's past taking shape before him. "I remember a sport that young people practiced, but it's not of real interest outside of helping me join the high school team... I also know someone is watching over me…I think it's my mother, but I have no clear recollection of her..." Zain concluded reluctantly, visibly overwhelmed by the emotion of his own memories.

"Nothing about those who are searching for you, the reasons they are after you, or how you came to us?" Ouray ventured, sensing the distress on the boy's face.

Zain shook his head in negation as Ouray moved to the board. He wrote the word "fly" accompanied by a question mark, following Zain's revelations, before turning to face him once again. His voice was reassuring as he told him: "Listen, we already have quite a bit to explore. We'll figure it out, Zain, don't worry..."

A grateful smile appeared on Zain's lips, even though his inner doubts persisted.

Behind the board, the shaman retrieved two wooden sticks, resembling those of a broom, and abruptly threw one towards Zain. The boy, surprised but alert, caught the weapon with a swift motion.

"Let's move on to the physical test," Ouray declared, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "Let's see what you're capable of in combat."

Zain, wielding his stick, stood ready, his senses sharp. Ouray, equally determined, faced his apprentice. A heavy silence filled the room, only broken by the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

Then, suddenly, Ouray launched into a sneak attack, his stick slicing through the air with formidable precision. Zain reacted instinctively, blocking the blow with surprising agility. The battle commenced, a ballet of swift and calculated movements.

The sticks clashed with a sharp sound, creating a symphony of combat. Zain dodged, countered, his sharpened senses capturing every move of his opponent. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he focused, seeking the perfect moment to strike back.

Ouray was a formidable opponent, but Zain refused to yield. His determination grew with each exchange, his mind blending into the euphoria of the fight.

In the midst of the fierce exchange, Zain finally saw the opening he was looking for. With impressive fluidity, he managed to disarm Ouray and pointed his wooden stick, like a sword, at his throat, in a sign of victory, his gaze burning with a regained confidence.

"Well done!" Ouray exclaimed, a proud smile lighting up his face.

Zain set the stick down on the couch, his breath still ragged. "I've got to go now or I'll be late..." he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Ouray, though eager to further explore Zain's powers, held back. He had prepared a series of meticulous tests to better understand the boy's capabilities, but he knew how precious a normal day of high school could be for him. Who knew how many attacks-free days Zain would still have the chance to experience?

"Go ahead... and good luck with the big game!" he encouraged warmly. Zain smiled at him before rushing off, determined to make it in time.

Ouray sighed deeply, recalling every detail of their session. The ease with which Zain had disarmed him, the quiet strength emanating from him even in the midst of confusion. This boy possessed a power that defied understanding, as well as a profound and unfathomable mystery. However, what troubled the shaman's mind the most was the information he kept secret: the revelation received in the realm of the dead. When he had questioned the elder of his vanished tribe about Zain's identity, the latter had revealed that Ouray himself would have to play a pivotal role in the conflicts to come. Was it related to his own hidden identity and powers that he managed to keep secret for so many years? The shaman didn't know, but his mind couldn't help but dwell on it.

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When Zain arrived at the high school, the campus was abuzz with unprecedented excitement. At first, he thought the commotion was due to the game, but he quickly realized that the students' animated discussions centered around the miraculous return of the missing athletes, who had mysteriously been found.

Stories spread like wildfire as Zain made his way through the crowd. After the confrontation with Sienna the previous day, Ouray and Darcey had taken the lead in covering up the incident. The missing students, who had been kept in a magical coma for months by Marsha, who used them as power generators, remembered nothing of their captivity inside the paintings or the witchcraft they had been subjected to. With Elliott's hurried assistance, the official version relayed by the police was that Marsha, the leader of an esoteric cult known as the Abundance Sisters, had kidnapped, drugged, and kept them captive. She was now on the run and was potentially involved in the sheriff's death, with whom she had had an intimate relationship years prior, making her the perfect scapegoat to cover up all the recent disasters that plagued the town at once.

In reality, the Order had captured her, and only God knew how Darcey would exact her revenge on the woman who had murdered her daughter. But after all the mayhem Marsha had caused, no one would mourn her fate.

Zain had felt how much seeing Elliott again the previous day had shaken Fleur to the core. She had avoided speaking to him, leaving the loft as soon as he arrived. Simonne's brother seemed devastated by the distance that had grown between them. Zain sincerely hoped that things would improve for the couple, but Fleur appeared so deeply affected by his betrayal that he doubted she could find it in herself to forgive him.

Simonne and the blonde triplets, whose gem names Zain still always got mixed up, approached him, all smiles in their cheerleader’s uniforms. Simonne seemed to be radiating happiness, and this sight eased Zain's heart, which had taken all the risks to save Conrad and the players.

"Zain! Did you hear?" Simonne asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Yes, it's really wonderful!" he replied, cheerful.

"Just yesterday, I was confiding in you about Conrad's disappearance, and today, he and the others have been found! You're our good luck charm!"

"Our good very own luck charm from Europe!" the triplets chorused, as they usually did, making Zain laugh.

Simonne, overexcited, added, "Your uniform finally arrived! The coach was so thrilled about Conrad and the others being found that he even tried reinstate them and get them to play in today's game, but they haven't been discharged from the hospital yet."

She paused, then continued with a radiant smile, "But if everything goes well today thanks to your insightful tips to the team, we'll be back to a real sports season by the next game! Come on, let’s try on your uniform!" she said, pulling him by the arm.

Zain allowed himself to be led along, smiling, followed by the triplets who were jumping up and down while waving their pom-poms and loudly chanting, "Game day! Game day! Game day!" Their cheers echoed through the hallways, drawing amused glances from other students.

Zain couldn't help but laugh at the girls' contagious enthusiasm. Their hurried footsteps resonated in the hall, every movement charged with electrifying energy. Simonne walked beside him, her eyes sparkling with joy and complicity, while the triplets continued their joyful chant.

Students around them smiled while some even clapped in rhythm with the triplets, adding to the festive atmosphere. It was as if the entire school was vibrating in unison, swept up in a wave of excitement for the upcoming game.

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The other side of the portal—Zain’s dimension

Under the scorching heat of the twin suns, the arid desert mountains echoed with the dull thuds of the Dazaris' tools. Buried in the rock, their faces hidden behind clay masks, they pressed on relentlessly, digging a tunnel into the heart of the mountains. The previous day, the decipherer’s black stone had awakened, its mysterious glow rekindling hope and promising the imminent fulfillment of the ancient prophecy.

Bashar, the deposed king of the Peris, observed the scene, an impatient flame burning in his purple eyes.

The black stone, having finally revealed its power, would soon surely do so again. Each pickaxe strike brought the army closer to the hidden well, buried for centuries in the mountain depths. Soon, Bashar thought, the activation of the black gem would unerringly guide them to his son Zain. His location and capture were now only a matter of time. The Dazaris, faithful to their destiny, were preparing to fulfill their sacred mission, the ultimate quest finally within reach.

Raad, Bashar's eldest son, approached him with a troubled expression. Raad had always shown blind allegiance to his father, following his orders without question even when he decided to ally with their enemy and betray their mother and youngest brother. However, the weeks spent in the Dazaris camp, among this barbaric and heartless people, and the thought that they might capture Zain to fulfill the dark prophecy of the decipherer, had shaken his convictions.

Raad had never been very close to Zain, that peculiar, always aloof, strange boy. He had never understood why Zain didn't try to integrate with them, unlike Malik, their middle brother, who had also an unwavering admiration for their father. Zain had never been embarrassed by his difference, wearing his eccentricity with an assurance that both fascinated and irritated Raad. This indifference to their father's critical gaze, this unshakable confidence in himself, aroused in Raad a deep admiration mixed with frustration.

Raad often wondered what it must be like to live for oneself, liberated from Bashar's relentless expectations. But he had never had that luxury, nor the courage to defy his father's orders, something Zain had not hesitated to do from a young age. Zain's closeness to their mother was also a point of contention, as Raad wished he could share in those precious moments with Uma. However, the never ending activities imposed by Bashar prevented him from doing so, and he unconsciously resented Zain for being able to escape their father's demands and live life on his own terms.

These resentments had contributed to Raad's decision to follow Bashar in betraying their people. But as the days passed, his convictions began to waver. Zain, though unsettling and oftentimes annoying, was far from evil and certainly did not deserve to fall into the hands of the Dazaris, and their obscure designs . Moreover, if Zain was so crucial to the Dazaris, if his powers represented the final step in the fulfillment of their prophecy, shouldn’t the Péris have every interest in preventing that from happening, rather than facilitating their triomphe under the guise of a promise of illusory peace?

"Father, we need to talk..." he finally dared to utter.

Bashar slowly turned his head towards him, a malevolent smile stretching across his lips. "We are nearing the end of our wait..."

Raad clenched his fists, summoning all his courage. "I am aware that your intentions are noble... that you seek peace for our people, but do you truly believe that the Dazaris will grant us that peace once their prophecy is fulfilled? And what exactly will they do with Zain once they have seized him?"

Bashar cast a dark glance at him, as Raad felt the tension rising. Yet, he could not stop now. "He is still my brother, your son. Regardless of what this prophecy says, whatever his differences and whatever what others may think of him, he is still our family. What is happening here today, the role we are playing , I do not think we are on the right side."

Raad's voice trembled, but his words were sincere. Bashar, taken aback by this outburst from his son, accustomed to absolute submission from him, responded firmly: "You don't…. think? Since when do you think exactly?! The black stone has been activated, Raad. It means that Zain has used his powers for evil. If it happened once, it will happen again... He is not one of us, Raad. He doesn't resemble us. His birth is an anomaly, an anomaly that caused our exile. We will only find peace once he is handed over to the Dazaris, where he belongs. End of story!"

"But..." Raad attempted to once again, his desperate voice seeking to plead further.

But Bashar had already turned his back on him, ignoring his pleas and watching the progress of the Dazari army as they dug relentlessly.

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Zain gracefully stretched on the field, clad in his cheerleader uniform that fit him like a glove; this masculine version of the girl’s outfit seemed tailor-made. The thick, elastic material hugged every contour of his body like a second skin, accentuating his sculpted silhouette in a flattering yet comfortable cut. An undeniable sense of belonging washed over him as he stood among this team with whom he had forged quick but genuine bonds.

He had prepared the choreography with surprising confidence, discovering an innate sense of rhythm that guided him, drawing inspiration from cheerleading movies he had watched and characters from Tv shows he related to. Under Simonne's benevolent guidance, he had perfected his movements, integrating fluidity and balance while retaining his own distinctive style.

While demonstrating to the rugby team the techniques and tricks that his powers and memories from his original world had revealed to him, he had not hesitated to personally guide them on the field, showing them the passes to avoid and the placements to adjust to ensure the optimal flow of the game.

He felt finally freed from the torments of monsters and vengeful spirits, fully immersed in the present moment, integrated, almost feeling… home.

The coach, after blowing the whistle for the players' break, approached towards Zain. The boy stopped his stretches, his heart tightening with apprehension at the sight of him approaching. What could this often impetuous man want from him?

"I need to talk to you, kid..." the coach announced in a grave voice, plunging Zain into a whirlwind of anxieties.

"Sure... what's up?" he replied, trying to conceal his worry behind a mask of apparent calm.

A myriad of catastrophic scenarios flooded his mind: his expulsion from the team, reproaches about his presence among the cheerleaders, being banned from participating in the big match... But the nightmare dissipated when the coach, in an unusually soft voice, spoke again:

"Listen... I'm not used to asking for favors... it's quite challenging for me..." he confessed, before continuing, his gaze embarrassed "...but Conrad and my players have been found, thank God. My team can finally get back to some sense of normalcy... And today, thanks to you, we have a decent chance of competing against the REDSTICKS. I'm grateful to you. But it's unlikely that we'll win... Unless you agree... exceptionally... to play with us..."

"But I'm not a rugby player, I'm a just a cheerleader with a few cool tips..." Zain pleaded, facing this unappealing prospect.

"Technically, you're right, but listen, kid, I saw you on the field, showing them the plays, your agility, your speed, the cunning you display is more than just mental, you have all the makings of a natural player... I know you don't care much for this sport, but I know you care about the team, and the team needs you today..." the coach confided in him.

"But... I was really looking forward to finally making my debut with the cheer squad. I learned the routine, got my uniform, it's an important day for me..."

Understanding his dilemma, the coach tried to convince him further : "I understand, and you've already done a lot for us, but the REDSTICKS, Zain... They're a vile team of arrogant and aggressive pricks, with questionable morals and detestable personalities, and you'll get to see that for yourself when they arrive. If there's one team we deserve to beat, it's them!"

Zain seemed to consider the idea reluctantly. He really wanted to make his debut as a cheerleader, but he also didn't want to let down the team he supported or the coach. Faced with his obvious hesitation, the coach added, as a last resort: "Listen, why don’t you do the opening routine with the cheerleaders and then go change and take one of the players place midway through the game. That way, you can do both. What do you think?"

Zain's eyes lit up. Finally, there was a proposition that could convince him.

"Does that also mean you'd let us, exceptionally, perform our entrance routine to a song of our choice?" Zain asked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

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"Are you sure this is what you want?" Darcey asked in a soft voice, her eyes searching Fleur's, silent in the passenger seat.

"Yes, it's time..." replied the red-haired witch, her voice trembling but resolute. They exited the car parked in front of the old Willards' house, and a shiver ran down Darcey's spine as she adjusted her tailored white ensemble . Her hair, pulled back into a strict bun, revealed the delicate features of her face yet marked by the trials of pain over the years. Beside her, Fleur, in a flowing white dress, let her red hair cascade freely over her shoulders. Both of them carried bouquets of wildflowers, and as they walked side by side, their steps were strangely light, as if solving Carolina's murder had finally brought some semblance of peace to their troubled hearts.

Darcey's free hand gently squeezed her granddaughter's as they made their way toward the nearby forest, where Fleur had discovered her mother's lifeless body years prior. The forest, once a sanctuary of magic, had become a place of pain and destruction. But today, they were ready to put an end to it.

"When i think of all the supernatural beings, in addition to Mom, who were so unjustly slaughtered here..." Fleur murmured, her eyes welling up with tears. "Tucker brought them to the only place in town where they would be helpless. This is not right. Mom never intended for that to happen…she would have wanted us to put an end to it."

Darcey nodded, unable to speak, her throat tight with emotion. They stopped at the edge of the forest, where the magic-free zone began, marking the boundary of the territory Carolina had once created to prove her love to her ex-husband. Together, they crouched down, gently laying the flowers on the ground.

They had decided to lift the veil blocking the magic, a veil Carolina had erected in a genuine and pure gesture, but which had been corrupted, turning the place into a graveyard for hundreds of innocent creatures, including herself. Only Darcey and Fleur, the last living descendants of Sienna’s lineage, had the power to perform such a ritual and re-infuse these lands with their ancient magic.

With heavy but hopeful hearts, the two women stood ready to restore balance. Together, they began to whisper the incantations, their voices rising in an ancient and powerful chant, resonating through the trees.

"Restituere , Restituere , Restituere ..." they chorused, hands firmly planted on the ground, eyes shut tight, as tremors rippled through the earth beneath them. An invisible surge of energy coursed through their beings, while a gentle breeze caressed their faces, signaling the onset of magic. Suddenly , Darcey and Fleur opened their eyes and straightened up.

"Did it work?" Fleur's impatience and concern were evident as she searched her grandmother's gaze for an answer.

Darcey remained silent for a few precious seconds, her eyes scanning the horizon. Then, with a trembling hand, she pointed towards a distant spot in the woods. Following her grandmother's gesture, Fleur's eyes widened in astonishment as she witnessed what looked to be a dozens of white specters emerging from the ground and ascending into the sky. Among them were the many faces of men, women, and children, rising as if liberated by the resurgence of magic. Finally,Tucker and Marsha’s innocent victims, whose souls seemed to have been trapped, appeared to find solace at last.

The spectacle of the spirits flying away towards the light, filled the air with a gentle melancholy, and for the first time in years, Fleur felt a wave of relief wash over her. The whispers of the specters, light as a breeze, brought a newfound serenity to the forest, now purified. Among the growing number of ghosts, the two incredulous women seem to recognize Carolina's spirit, her gentle face seeming finally serene as it ascended into the sky. "Mom..." Fleur murmured, a tear trailing down her cheek. Beside her, Darcey trembled, overcame with sobs at seeing her daughter's soul finally set free.

As Fleur witnessed the blissful expression on Carolina's face, years of torment seemed to fade, nearly dispelling the haunting memory of cradling her lifeless body in these woods. With closure finally attained, overwhelming emotion engulfed them both as the reality of their liberation became palpable.

Fleur embraced her grandmother, their bodies trembling under the weight of tears and relief. Together, they watched the last spirits soar above them, carried by the restored magic.

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Under the unflattering neon lights of the high school restroom, Zain clumsily styled his hair in front of the chipped mirror, revisiting his recent conversation with the coach. Upon reflection, agreeing to play one game as a rugby player seemed like a small price to pay for the privilege of choosing a new song for the cheerleaders' opening routine. A smirk played on his lips, the day was offering him a welcome moment of respite amidst the whirlwind of emotions that had shaken him.

But even then, Hadrian's image persisted, their morning embrace clinging to his mind like a sweet obsession.

Suddenly, the noise of flushing toilets shattered the silence, the stall doors opened to reveal some of the Redsticks players, who had arrived earlier than expected. Three of them, draped in their scarlet and black jackets, approached the sinks, their presence filling the air with their toxic dominant aura that unsettled Zain.

"Did you see those blonde triplets?! They’re as hot as they’re dumb! We gotta snag them before heading home after the game!" exclaimed Dyson, a glint of desire in his eyes.

A shiver of disgust ran down Zain's spine, frozen in place, as another player chimed in: "Totally! Although personally, I prefer the Asian one…Asian girls are my go to porn category!" Kyle's booming laughter accompanied his words, filling the air with the trio's arrogance, while Zain watched them, horrified by the content of their conversation.

"These girls are amazing, and they don't deserve to be talked about in that way. Maybe if you would reconsider your approach, you might actually have a shot with one of them, although I personally doubt it."

Zain's voice resonated in the restroom, charged with defiance, as he headed towards the exit, his blood pulsing in his veins.

Dyson, Kyle, and Cook, outraged by his words, stood before him, their faces contorted with anger.

"Who the fuck do you think you are,cheerleader boy? Are you jealous we weren’t talking about you?" Dyson retorted, a smirk on his lips.

"Of course, actually, everyone must be vying for the favors of gentlemen like you!" Zain retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The three players clenched their fists, their muscles taut, as Cook asked Dyson:

"Are you going to let this little faggot talk to us like that?"

Dyson stepped closer to Zain, his face red with anger, his bulging veins betraying his frustration.

"Listen up, fairy boy, you're lucky we have a game to play, but you rest assured that this isn't over between us!" he spat.

Zain watched them like an out of body experience, stunned by such a display of intolerance and stupidity. An overwhelming urge for violence surged within him, an almost animalistic rage in the face of their ignorance. « Not today satan…not today neck… » he told himself to remain calm, then he merely pushed Dyson aside, clearing the path to the door that the jock was blocking.

Before disappearing into the corridor, Zain couldn’t help himself but toss over his shoulder:

"You should know that the irony of hearing homophobic slurs coming from someone named after a vacuum cleaner isn’t lost me"

Dyson slammed his hand violently against the wall, his fist bursting with blood, as Zain walked away, leaving behind a palpable sense of tension.

—————————-

Fleur had finally returned home. Yet, could this apartment be called that without Elliott's presence in it? Her fiancé had informed Ouray after her departure from the loft that he had left the premises, returned to his mother's, to give her the space needed for reflection.

Every corner of the apartment evoked their shared moments, the simple joys of their daily life. Since coming back from the woods, after dropping off Darcey at her hotel, she felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted off her heart. Fleur still couldn't believe she had successfully reinstated the magic into the forest, freed all those lost spirits, and even glimpsed at her mother finally finding peace...

Fleur hoped that the sudden relief would bring her the clarity needed to finally talk it out with Elliott, to discuss openly their mutual mistakes. But her wounds were still raw, her mind still tangled. She loved Elliott with all her being and understood that finding out the truth she hid about her powers might have disturbed him. Yet, to ally with Marsha, to drug her for answers, to believe she had used magic to manipulate him as her father once falsely believed that her mother had... That betrayal felt unforgivable. She had idealized their relationship, used to feel safe like never before. But now, Elliott's poor decisions had caused her to loose the child she carried, whose existence she hadn't even known about before it was already too late. Fleur wasn't sure if she was ready to be a mother, but having that choice taken away from her in such a violent manner had left an indelible scar on her body and mind.

How could she ever look at her fiancé the same way again after all that?

A knock on the door interrupted Fleur's stream of thoughts. Anxiously, she got up and went to open it, though she wasn't expecting anyone. Turning the handle, she found Hadrian on the threshold.

Internally, Fleur sighed. Another man in her life with whom she had to have a difficult conversation, but she wasn't sure if she had the strength to do so. Hadrian seemed uneasy, aware of the impact of his actions. After Sienna's possession attempt, Fleur had vivid visions of her past life, feeling the pain and suffering inflicted upon her by his misguided actions, causing the Redwaters massacre…Since then, she had kept her distances, refusing to see him. Yet, Hadrian considered her his closest friend, his family, and he couldn't bring himself to leave their relationship hanging.

With a timid gesture, he waved a bottle of tequila he had brought as a peace offering. Fleur raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

" You do realize that I own the bar downstairs?" she asked, slightly amused despite herself by his choice of gift.

"It's a Casa Azul," Hadrian clarified, presenting her the bottle.

The young witch glanced at the immortal for a moment, then, with a sigh, she swung the door wide open, inviting him to come in.

Hadrian and Fleur stood facing each other, a palpable unease settling between them. The unusual tension hung heavily, making the situation all the more awkward.

"Listen..." Hadrian began with a trembling voice, breaking the silence. "I want to start by saying how much I am sorry, and to try to explain that this constant sense of guilt about what happened... it's not just because of the curse, Fleur. I sincerely regret what transpired , and I would give anything to change it if I could..." His voice trailed off, replaced by a heartbreaking sincerity.

Fleur lowered her eyes, then raised them again, shining with emotion. "I know... When I had those visions of Sienna's past, when I felt the same pain she felt at sight of the destruction of the colony, the loss of her friends, her husband, her last act before casting that spell on you... it shook me to the core..." Her voice trembled, but she continued: "I also projected that feeling onto what I had just experienced with Elliott, my sense of betrayal, the loss of my child..." Her voice broke with emotion. "It was difficult for me to have an impartial understanding of the events..."

Hadrian's eyes filled with tears. Faced with his friend's evident hurt, he wished more than anything to protect her from these sorrows. "I'm so sorry for your miscarriage, Fleur..." The witch nodded, moved.

"I saw Mom today..." she announced, her voice trembling, while Hadrian widened his eyes in surprise.

"Darcey and I infused magic back into the forest, where she died. It was as if all the lost souls and spirits in the area had been set free, including her. She finally found rest, peace..."

Hadrian looked at her in awe, fascinated, hanging to every word.

Fleur, carried away by her momentum, continued: "It put some things into perspective for me... I know who you are, Hadrian. The friend you were to me when I needed one, the support you gave me when I was lost... Whatever happened between you and Sienna hundreds of years ago, as horrible as it might have been, I believe it was just a terrible chain reaction of misfortunes, not an intentional infliction of destruction upon all of those lives. I refuse to believe otherwise ..."

Hadrian, his tears streaming down his face as Fleur's understanding dawned upon him, confessed with a choked voice, "I was drunk... overwhelmed by shame... shame of who I truly was... the murders I let Sienna commit without being able to stop her, and the fear of what life would be like without her... I blurted it all out to a soldier in a stupid, selfish impulse, without realizing the dire consequences it would later entail ..." he explained, trembling as he recalled that horrible, fateful night.

"What you truly were? You mean, your sexuality?" Fleur asked, finally understanding.

Hadrian nodded, filled with shame, as Fleur continued, "Hadrian, what matters to me is the man you've been since then, all the good you've done, all the lives you've changed, all while living under the weight of a curse that has prevented you from ever finding peace for all this time... When I think of Sienna, of all the harm she caused, the despicable way she took over Rose's body, the lives she didn't hesitate to trample without remorse…I find it hard to see you as the villain of the story, as reprehensible as the consequences of your misguided revelation to the wrong person were that night…" Fleur concluded, her face glowing with compassion.

"I will find Rose for you, Fleur. I will find a way to free her..." Hadrian solemnly promised, his voice trembling with determination.

Fleur gently took his hand, her eyes shining with infinite kindness. "We will find her... together..." she murmured in a comforting tone.

She hugged her friend, who had been one of the most important pillars in her life. In this sincere embrace, Hadrian let himself cry, overwhelmed by an unprecedented wave of emotion. He was more grateful than ever to have, throughout all his lives, encountered someone as special as Fleur.

"Now, we can have a shot!" Fleur exclaimed , releasing her embrace.

Fleur walked to the cupboard, took out two glasses, and placed them gently on the small table beside them.

Hadrian, his eyes still reddened with tears, managed a smile. He took the bottle of tequila and filled the glasses. Their hands still trembling with emotion as they clinked their shots.

"I saw you and Zain at the loft. You looked..." Fleur trailed off, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

Hadrian, usually so reserved, admitted without hesitation: "Yes, we've grown close. I... care deeply for him."

Fleur couldn't help but smile, a sense of pride washing over her seeing her friend so open and vulnerable.

"Does it mean that you’re going to watch the game then?" she asked gently.

Hadrian hesitated, a perplexed expression crossing his face. "I'm not sure. I would love nothing more than to support him, and he is so into that stuff…but I'm afraid I won't fit in at a high school game..."

Fleur placed her hand on Hadrian's, her eyes shining with understanding. "If you care about the boy, and it's a special day for him, that's all that should matter to you. I'll come with you if you want, I’m curious to see him too."

Hadrian's face relaxed at the prospect. Despite the irony of being a five-hundred-year-old immortal infatuated with a young male cheerleader, he felt ready to take this new step. And with Fleur by his side, he knew he could face anything.

 

——————————————-

Night had fallen over the town, cloaking Redwaters in a tranquil darkness as the high school buzzed with activity before the game. Hundreds of people, parents, students, and town residents, streamed towards the bleachers surrounding the field, their tickets in hand, eager to attend the week's social event.

Laughter and animated conversations filled the air, creating a unique atmosphere. The bright signs of food stalls illuminated the pathways, where popcorn, soda, and hot dog vendors were strategically stationed to cater to the crowd. Supporters, proudly clad in their team colors, sought out the best seats in the bleachers, eager not to miss any of the impending action.

The sweet scent of popcorn wafted through the air, mingling with the enticing aroma of grilled hot dogs, as the chatter of supporters grew louder. The laughter of students and the spirited discussions of parents melded into a joyful hum. Children darted around, waving team-colored flags, their faces painted with enthusiasm.

Hadrian and Fleur maneuvered through the dense crowd, their eyes scanning for seats at the foot of the field. The excitement of the event enveloped them, heightening their anticipation.

Suddenly, they came to a halt, surprised to encounter Garth. The young man, holding a huge soda, wore a sleeveless black t-shirt that revealed his intriguing tattoos.

"Garth?!" Fleur exclaimed, taken aback to see him here.

Garth smiled shyly at them. "Fleur, Hadrian... How are you?"

Hadrian shared Fleur's surprise. Seeing Garth in this context was unexpected. "You, here? You never came to a single game when we were in high school!"

Fleur recalled, as the trio took their seats side by side in the bleachers.

Garth shrugged, visibly embarrassed. "I thought I'd come cheer on the new kid..." he admitted with a slight smile.

Hadrian couldn't help but note his remark. The immortal remembered all too well that Zain had chosen to go to Garth for help to rescue the missing students. And now, here Garth was, attending the match... Could it be possible that they were closer than he thought? A sense of unease washed over him. Was he... jealous?

Hadrian averted his gaze to the field, trying to shake off the strange sensation gripping his heart.

Principal Raymond Wilkins stepped forward onto the center of the field, a microphone in hand. His face beamed with pride as he surveyed the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and welcome to Redwaters High Stadium!" His voice echoed through the speakers, amplified by the cheers and applause of the spectators. "Tonight, the Redwaters team is gearing up to face off against the Redsticks in what promises to be a memorable rugby match!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, supporters stomping their feet and shouting with all their might.

"But before we begin, allow me to introduce the performance that will ignite our enthusiasm to support our players with its incredible energy... Make some noise for the fantastic Redwaters High cheerleaders!"

Hadrian’s heart tightened in his chest eager to finally see Zain in action, while also keeping an eye on Garth's reactions, who seemed as captivated a he was by the start of the show.

Suddenly, music exploded from the speakers, the chorus notes of Megan Thee Stallion's "Savage" pulsating through the air. All eyes converged on the field as Zain, Simone, Saffire, Emerald, and Diamond :the blonde triplets, and the rest of the cheer team made their entrance, their magnetic presence instantly drawing in the crowd.

Fleur let out a gasp of astonishment at the bold choice of music. "They let them dance to Savage?" She turned to Hadrian and Garth to get their reaction, but they seemed so mesmerized with Zain's entrance that it left them speechless. A knowing smile spread across the redhead witch's face, finally understanding their shared interest.

The choreography began with a dynamic blend of synchronized movements between classic cheer and urban dance. Zain led the group with natural confidence, seamlessly transitioning between acrobatic leaps and sensual dance steps. The Blonde Triplets infused the performance with infectious energy, their fluid and precise gestures intertwining with those of Zain and Simone.

The cheerleaders formed human pyramids with remarkable agility, while Zain executed popping and locking movements with remarkable talent. Simone took command of the group with a natural authority, infusing each movement with her charisma power and confidence.

As the music intensified, Zain and the cheerleaders launched into a series of bolder and more elaborate moves. Their bodies twirled, jumped, and slid across the field, creating a captivating visual spectacle. Much of the crowd had begun to dance to the rhythm of the song, swept away by the cheerleaders performance that seemed to be an incontestable winning bet.

Hadrian watched, spellbound. Zain was undeniably in his element, more attractive than ever in that uniform, drawing not only his gaze but also that of Garth.

At the conclusion of their performance, the cheerleading team raised their pom-poms in the air, their faces radiant, a hint of allure in their eyes, amidst the frenzied cheers of the crowd. Then, one by one, they exited the field, leaving behind an atmosphere charged with emotion.

Zain, brimming with joy, glanced towards the bleachers and spotted Hadrian, Garth, and Fleur among the audience. An indescribable feeling washed over him at the sight of them. They had come to support him, to share in his big moment. Hadrian was there... In a fleeting instant, their gazes met, a moment suspended in time, for both of them, reminiscent of their morning embrace, as Zain moved away from the field, electrified.

Principal Wilkins returned to the center of the field, his face flushed from the cheerleaders' performance. He grabbed the microphone, his voice filled with excitement.

"After that... unforgettable performance... let's welcome without further ado our heroes of the evening! Here is your Redwaters team!"

The music changed, taking on a more intense, almost warlike rhythm. The Redwaters players, led by Captain Anderson, emerged from the locker room, running and high-fiving spectators lined up along the field. Their red and gold uniforms gleamed under the spotlights, each player sporting a determined smile.

Suddenly, appearing last after hastily changing, Zain bursted onto the field to join the team. Hadrian, Garth, and Fleur exchanged incredulous looks, not having been privy to the fact that the boy would be playing a double role that night.

"That kid is really something!" Garth exclaimed, increasingly intrigued, not noticing the dark look Hadrian had shot him, unlike Fleur, who stifled a quiet laugh at the sight of Hadrian’s apparent jealousy before declaring, "I'm going to get some popcorn," thus leaving the two rivals alone side by side.

The principal continued into the microphone, "And facing them, our formidable opponents of the evening, the Redsticks!"

The Redsticks made their entrance, greeted by respectful but less enthusiastic applause than that reserved for the home team. They advanced with a firm step, ready for battle. Dyson, Kyle, and Cook exchanged astonished looks at the sight of Zain on the opposing team’s ranks, their intention to harm him becoming evident.

Principal Wilkins raised his arms to capture the crowd's attention one last time.

"May the best team win! Let the game begin!"

The roar of the crowd rose, echoing throughout the stadium. The kickoff was about to happen, and everyone held their breath, ready for the showdown.

 

A little further ahead, Fleur was standing in line for popcorn, still amused by Hadrian's reaction to Garth's obvious interest in Zain. She had never seen the immortal show signs of insecurity or jealousy. Zain brought out deeply human aspects of her friend's personality that she had never thought existed given his cold and reserved nature, and it made her smile.

As her turn was approaching, a hand rested on her shoulder, and just from the sensation, she recognized him immediately, almost taking her breath away.

"Fleur..."

The red-haired witch turned around, finding herself face to face with Elliot. Seeing him again after his betrayal was always a bittersweet feeling. An endless internal battle between the love she felt for him and the disappointment she harbored.

"Elliot, what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep her composure.

"I came to see Simonne. Since I found Conrad, she's finally letting me be her big brother again..."

"Glad things are getting better between you two."

Elliot looked at her, heartbroken. The distance that had settled between them was unbearable for him.

"Listen, Fleur... saying that I regret what happened would be the biggest understatement ever... I don't have the words..." he began, confused.

"I don't think a high school game is the best setting to talk about the state of our relationship ," she replied, visibly shaken by the interaction.

"I know... but I wanted to tell you that this whole witchcraft, supernatural thing, as disturbing as it was to discover all that the way I did ... it doesn't change my feelings for you."

"Elliot, what happened in the woods when I came back from Paris, all the violence that ensued..."

"I know... and I will regret for the rest of my life allowing Marsha to manipulate me like that..." he admitted, his heart pounding.

"I know you're sorry, I know you're not a bad person, Elliot, but I really don't see how we can get past what happened," Fleur confessed, pouring out her thoughts as they came to her.

Elliot, with his sincere and piercing eyes, looked at her, destroyed by the consequences of his actions before saying, "Take all the time you need, Fleur, but know that I love you, and being away from you... I just miss you more than I ever thought possible."

Elliot gave her a tender smile before walking away, while the young woman was in the fight of life trying her best to mask the distress and confusion that engulfed her in waves. She wished she could find the strength to fix things between them, though she doubted she would ever be able to.

"I miss you too..." she murmured helplessly, as Elliot had already disappeared into the crowd.

On the field, the crowd roared louder with each passing minute, the excitement palpable as the match reached its climax. Zain, dressed in his bright red jersey, stood ready at the center of the field, his sharp eyes scanning his opponents. His body was tense like a bow, every muscle prepared to spring at the slightest opportunity.

The whistle blew and the game resumed. The oval ball was launched into the air, and Zain, with astonishing precision and speed, caught it before the Redsticks could react. His movements were fluid, almost dance-like, as he dodged the opponents' interception attempts. His technique, infused with fleeting memories from his original world where a similar game reigned supreme, gave him a distinct advantage. He spun, changed direction with disconcerting agility, leaving a trail of bewildered defenders in his wake. Hadrian and Garth were glued to the action in the stands, hanging on to his every move.

Dyson, driven by rage, lunged at him, his powerful arms reaching out to grab him. Zain anticipated the move, and with a graceful pirouette, he was behind Dyson in a split second, leaving him growling in frustration. Kyle and Cook quickly conferred, deciding to surround him. They charged in tandem, hoping to trap him by surprise. Zain, however, had already predicted their maneuver. With a skillful feint, he pretended to go left, then abruptly pivoted right, causing the two players to collide heavily with a thud.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Zain sprinted towards the goal line. He felt the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, each step bringing him closer to his objective. The voices of his teammates encouraged him, and he could hear the desperate shouts of the Redsticks trying to catch up. But it was too late. With a final burst of speed, he dove to the ground, the ball firmly clasped against him, crossing the goal line with unmatched grace.

In the stands, Hadrian was torn between pride and fear. Unlike his performance with the cheerleaders, this sport was violent, brutal. Each attempt to tackle Zain made his heart clench inexorably. Even though the boy had shown enough agility to counter the attacks, the emotional rollercoaster induced by the game's aggressiveness created a deep unease within him.

Seeing Zain dodge the blows, weaving between the opposing players with almost supernatural agility, still wasn't enough to ease his worry. Each collision, each fall, caused a dull anxiety to rise within him, a tight knot in his chest. Hadrian clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, trying to stay calm. Even the sight of Zain in his rugby uniform, with his short sports shorts, didn't manage to dissipate his tension. The contrast between Zain's apparent vulnerability and his brilliant performance on the field made the situation even harder to bear.

As Hadrian tried to calm his growing anxiety, Garth, caught up in the action on the field, blurted out, "The kid might actually give them their first win in months."

Overwhelmed by his emotions, Hadrian couldn't hold back his frustration any longer and snapped, "Do you like him?"

Garth turned his gaze away from the field to face Hadrian, an irritated expression on his face. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Hadrian."

The immortal did his best to channel his frustration but seemed to be failing. "Considering we're seeing each other, I think it does concern me a bit."

Garth looked surprised before replying, "Oh... I didn't know you were officially together."

"I'm not sure if we can really speak in those terms..." Hadrian stammered, taken aback.

"Are you exclusive then? A real couple?" Garth questioned.

"We care about each other, but we haven't really talked about those details..." the immortal replied, flustered.

"Hadrian, Zain is a good kid, on the other hand we have you and all your emotional baggage, not to mention the curse.Most people see you as a hero, but in my eyes, you're more of a selfish, self-destructive, unreliable guy..."

Hadrian's face froze in the face of Garth's barrage of insults. He knew the Kinnara resented him for his past absence in town, which had left Tucker free to persecute supernatural creatures, but he sincerely thought things had been settled between them after the sheriff's death.

"I do like Zain , and even though I won't do anything to get in your way, you should know that I'll be there when you inevitably mess things up between you two, and that unlike you, I'll do my best to make it work," Garth declared confidently, before standing up and exiting the stands, leaving Hadrian stunned by the interaction, plunged into the depths of his own insecurities about his troubled romantic past.

Fleur returned to the stands, her bucket of popcorn in hand, as Garth walked away, looking frustrated.

She sat next to Hadrian and asked, concerned, "Is he leaving already?"

Hadrian mechanically shrugged, and turned back his attention to the game, but his mind remained fixated on Garth's words and what they implied.

The final whistle blew, its sharp note cutting through the electric atmosphere that enveloped the stadium. 25-20, in favor of Redwaters High! Instantly, a wave of euphoria swept over the field.

The Redwaters supporters let out roars of joy, their cheers resonating through the stands. Confetti swirled through the air. At the heart of the triumphant fervor, Zain and his teammates embraced each other, their faces lit up with joy. Coach Anderson, filled with infinite gratitude, shook Zain's hand in a gesture full of significance.

The Redwaters cheerleaders stormed the field, their dazzling smiles illuminating the starry night sky, while their victory cries echoed like a sweet melody filled with emotion. Simonne, Ruby, Diamond, and Emerald rushed to congratulate Zain, ecstatic over the team’s surprising victory, which he had undeniably facilitated.

Meanwhile, in the shadows of the defeated, Dyson, Kyle, and Cook were enveloped in a veil of rage. Their piercing gazes cut through the darkness, their bitterness saturating the air. The defeat was unbearable, especially when inflicted by Zain, and their desire for revenge burned fiercely in their chests.

Zain couldn’t help but smile, a whirlwind of excitement and emotion swirling in his heart. Against all odds, the passion of the game had ignited his spirit, shaking all his certainties, and as he moved away from the tumult of the field, his eyes instinctively searched the stands where Hadrian and Fleur were waiting for him.

Covered in mud, his face speckled with sparkling confetti, Zain radiated an electrifying aura, his eyes burning with an unquenchable desire. Without hesitation, he rushed towards Hadrian, capturing his face in his hands and kissing him with a consuming passion, oblivious to the world around them. Hadrian let himself be swept away by this fiery embrace, savoring every moment, every breath shared.

When their lips parted, Fleur finally congratulated him on his performance. "Zain, what a night! Great dance, great game!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with camaraderie.

"I’m so glad you guys came! I thought I saw Garth too. Has he already left?" Zain asked, searching for his friend.

Hadrian felt his heart pinch slightly, but he kept his smile. "Yes, something came up." he replied, skillfully concealing his own turmoil.

"Zain, congratulations again. I'm going to head out too! Go Redwaters High!" added Fleur before slipping away, leaving the two men alone.

"So, were you bored out of your mind having to watch a high school game?" Zain teased, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"Don't worry about me, I know how to be versatile..." Hadrian replied, a playful wink accompanying his words.

"I can't wait to see that..." Zain murmured, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, before moving closer again to capture Hadrian's lips in a kiss.

It was a moment suspended in time, filled with undeniable magic, and Zain wanted to savor every second.

"Shall I take you home?" Hadrian offered, eager to finally be alone with him.

"The team is celebrating the victory at Simonne's place, they're heading there right away. I’ll change back into my cheer uniform and check it out, but I'll meet you afterward?" Zain announced, sharing his plans with the immortal.

"Yes, go ahead, enjoy yourself, you deserve it!" Hadrian replied, understanding.

"I'll see you later then," Zain murmured as he turned away, but then he stopped midway and added, "It really means a lot to me that you came."

Hadrian gave him a tender smile as Zain walked toward the locker rooms.

——————————-

After a quick shower, Zaïn finally found himself back in his cheerleader uniform in the silent locker room. The other players had preferred to head straight to the party after the game, but for him, it was essential to wear the outfit of the team in which he truly felt like himself. The familiar fabric against his skin brought undeniable comfort.

He was glad to have contributed to his teammates' victory through his intervention, but as for the rest of the season, he planned to stay on the sidelines, cheering his teammates from the edge of the field, where he felt like he truly belonged.

Zain stuffed his clothes into his backpack as the distinct sound of a text message snapped him out of his reverie; Simonne had just sent him the location of the party. As he made his way to the parking lot, before ordering his Uber, he promised himself not to linger at the celebration. One thought haunted him: reuniting with Hadrian.

Zain's muffled footsteps echoed in the deserted hallways of Redwaters High, enveloped in the darkness of nightfall. It was his first time venturing there after sunset, a stark contrast to the daytime bustle. As he turned the corner, a dull noise broke the silence, making Zain shiver with apprehension.

Caught off guard, he turned around, scanning the shadows to ensure he was alone. But to his dismay, he found himself surrounded by Dyson, Kyle, Cook, and their cronies, who had patiently awaited his arrival since the end of the game. Their discontent hung in the air, charged with electricity, transforming the corridor into a sinister arena.

The hostile faces of the boys, illuminated by the flash of a phone brandished to capture the impending confrontation, seemed to meld into the surrounding darkness.

Dyson, the leader of the pack, fixed him with a palpable challenge, ready for a blood bath.

"You really thought we'd let you insult us, beat us on the field, and get away with it, you little fag?"

Zain couldn't believe it. The group encircled him, at least six or seven of them, their hatred seeping like poison into the air, infiltrating his soul.

"Six against one? Is that your idea of a fair fight?" Zain asked in a disillusioned voice.

"We're going to fuck you up so bad that the only thing left of you after tonight, little shit, will be the video of your humiliation!" spat Cook.

"You really want to film a hate crime?" Zain shot back, trying to remind them of the gravity of their actions.

The only response was a punch from Dyson that exploded against his jaw, splitting his lip in a spray of blood. The metallic taste filled his mouth as he staggered.

The Redsticks' laughter echoed like the howls of hyenas in his ears. Rage boiled within him, raw and primal, like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

Kyle shoved him violently against the lockers, the impact resounding through the hallway.

Cook delivered a punch to his abdomen, doubling him over in pain.

The blows rained down relentlessly, each impact resonating in his body like a hammer on an anvil. The camera flash crackled, capturing every moment of this carnage.

Zain was suffocating, his lungs on fire, each breath a torment. Four of them started kicking him as he lay on the ground, each kick sending waves of pain through his body. They screamed

"faggot" with each impact, their voices filled with pure hatred. His mind began to dissociate, desperately seeking to escape the reality of this agony.

He laye there on the ground, surrounded from all sides, and for what? Seven teenagers were relentlessly beating him, without a shred of remorse. High schoolers enraged, furious over a stupid lost game , over his difference... Just like that horrid night when Tucker and his gang of Rednecks besieged the mansion, torches in hand, ready to kill them all.

It was sensless , revolting, and as his body contorted under the violence of their blows, he was overwhelmed by much more than the brutality of their kicks and insults: he felt all the malevolent energy emanating from them.It was a visceral, gut wrenching blind hatred.

And in that moment, as each blow seemed to crush not only his body but also his soul, something within him shattered irreparably and he snapped.

The visceral impulse took over. Zain performed a spectacular kick-up, standing up in an instant, his eyes burning with rage. The bloodied boy stared down his attackers, his gaze dark and determined.

He turned to the guy filming the horrible act, spat blood in his direction, and said in an icy voice:

"Showtime.“

Without another word, he violently grabbed Cook by the collar and, in a burst of unleashed strength, lifted him off the ground. Cook screamed, his arms flailing, before Zain hurled him with inhuman power. Cook flew through the air, slamming violently into the ceiling before crashing heavily to the floor, his body lying inert like a broken doll.

Without missing a beat, Zain turned to Kyle and another of his attackers. With lightning speed, he grabbed them by the heads and smashed them together with brutal force. The sinister crack of their skulls echoed through the hallway, and they collapsed, unconscious, blood flowing from their open wounds.

Zain kept going, advancing toward another player, his footsteps echoing heavily on the floor. With cold precision, he delivered a devastating kick to the groin. The player screamed in pain, doubling over, before Zain sent him flying down the hallway with a powerful kick. The player's body hit the wall with a dull thud, leaving a trail of blood as he slid slowly to the ground.

Finally, Zain approached Dyson, who was backing away on the floor, terrified.

Dyson mumbled inaudible pleas, his eyes wide with fear. Without mercy, Zain spat blood in Dyson's face, the reddish liquid smearing his skin. Then, with implacable coldness, he delivered a knee to Dyson's head, the dull sound of the impact resonating in the oppressive silence.

Turning finally to the boy who was filming, now seemingly paralyzed and entirely traumatized by the sudden turn of events and the utter violence of the scene, Zain raised his middle finger in a provocative gesture to him and the camera. A predatory smile on his lips, he noticed the cameraman trembling and wetting his pants out of fear, the growing stain on his crotch as evidence.

Without a backward glance, Zain walked out of the school with cold confidence, leaving behind a trail of violence and battered bodies, his eyes darkened by a nearly demonic veil.

——————————————————-

 

The Other Side of the Portal - Zain's dimension

In the arid desert mountains, where the Dazaris toiled tirelessly, the Black Stone of the Decipherer suddenly blazed to life, its beams of light converging towards a point inside the mountain cave. They struck the cavern wall with titanic force, triggering seismic tremors and a continuous roar of ancient mystical powers.

The Dazaris halted their efforts, captivated by the emanating power, while Bashar wore a satisfied smile. Raad rushed to his father, his face marked with concern at this manifestation of Zain's powers.

The Stone shone intensely, its rays piercing the cave wall to form a breach, a portal to the unknown.

"We'll be able to recover your brother sooner than expected," Bashar exclaimed with a mix of wonder and determination.
"But this portal cannot transport an army, Father..."

"I’m aware. I will go myself," he replied in a menacing tone.

"Zain was already problematic before his dark powers awakened, before mother hid him away from our world. His strength already defied understanding, facing this shadow titan with mere force would be folly. If we want to bring him back so the Dazaris can seize him, we must pull other strings, touch his soul. I am his older brother; I will know how to manipulate him and make him follow me back willingly ."

Bashar looked at him, impressed by this insight, a proud glow lighting up his face. The intensity of the magic stone's light began to wane, every second counting.

"We must act quickly," he murmured, his voice tinged with urgent resolve.

Raad, the eldest son, had his hands trembling in apprehension. He stared at the portal, a shimmering mysterious vortex. His mind was a whirlwind of doubts and fears. Where would this path take him? And what about the insane quest imposed by his father and the Dazaris? Capturing his own brother... The very idea repulsed him, but he knew this was not the moment to be overwhelmed by his feelings. The time had come to prove his worth.

"Raad," Bashar's voice grew more pressing, almost desperate.

"Go! Honor me and our family! You are the last hope of our people, do not disappoint us!" The cry echoed in the cavern, amplifying the urgency and pressure on the elder son's shoulders.

The light of the magic stone flickered dangerously, the window of time to act shrinking to a fraction of a second. The ethereal and trembling portal began to close against the cave wall. The sounds of the barbarian army grew more intense, urging him to act without delay.

Raad cast one last look at his father, his face marked by fierce determination. He glanced at the army of Dazari warriors around him, then ran toward the vortex with all the energy of despair. He plunged into the luminous whirlwind just as the portal closed, the stone losing its incandescent glow behind him. The transition was brutal, a blinding flash of light followed by absolute darkness.

————————

Darcey sat in her immaculate white ensemble on the steps in front of Hadrian Manor's entrance. She sought the strength to go inside, to cross that threshold separating her from Ouray and all he represented to her. The starlight gently caressed the gardens below, tinting the landscape with a palpable melancholy. The trees whispered secrets carried by the wind, as if to remind her of years gone by.

Mourning Carolina after all these years had put things into perspective for Darcey. Witnessing her daughter's finally peaceful face in death haunted her thoughts and revealed a truth she had long refused to see. The idea of leaving things unsaid with Ouray,undeniably the love of her life, weighed increasingly heavily on her. She was unfamiliar with uncertainty, with doubts. Darcey had always been a woman of action, seizing every opportunity, showing courage and resilience. She had led her life with unwavering determination, braving storms and obstacles without ever faltering.

But something within her had changed today, a subtle yet profound transformation had occurred, altering her perspectives and how she now viewed her existence. The certainty she once had, that impenetrable armor of convictions and firm decisions, had cracked. Sitting on those steps, she felt vulnerable, exposed to the winds of doubt and regret.

The large metal gate groaned slowly, revealing a silhouette emerging from the darkness of the night. Darcey squinted to make out the figure looming : It was Zain, the young man she had only met the day prior. Every step he took seemed burdened with an invisible charge, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

She thought about their brief encounter and the surprising revelation of his relationship with Hadrian. In nearly fifty years of camaraderie with the immortal, Darcey had never seen Hadrian become attached to anyone. Zain must truly be special for Hadrian to get close with him the way she saw them be.

When Zain finally reached her position, Darcey was struck by his appearance. Wounds marked his face and arms, and his gaze, filled with suffering, broke her heart.

"What happened, kid?" she asked with a voice full of concern.

"Bad night," he simply replied, collapsing on the steps beside her with an exhausted sigh.

Darcey reached into her handbag and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it under Zain's curious gaze, who timidly asked, "Can I have one?"

She considered the request for a moment, then handed him a cigarette, lighting its end for him. Zain took a first puff, but a violent cough shook him, and he disgustingly crushed the cigarette on the step.

They remained there, in a silence filled with emotions, while the starry night enveloped them with its gentleness. Each lost in their thoughts, an uncanny connection forming between them.

Darcey took a drag from her cigarette in the silence when Zain threw an unexpected remark: "What are you doing outside, dressed in that gorgeous suit, Dior archive 1980?" he asked, his keen eye noticing.

Darcey's eyes lit up with surprise. "Not bad for a youngster, you've got quite the eye!" she first complimented him.

"Is that sharp eye what got you in trouble tonight?" She continued.

Zain's mind was muddled. The aftermath of the violence he had endured, the violence he had inflicted, so far from his own nature, his feelings for Hadrian, and his fear of exploring their relationship further, all weighed heavily on him. But something about Darcey, in that moment, seemed to reassure him, to calm him a little, something …maternal.

"I don't understand anything about this world," he confessed, looking dejected.

Darcey smiled as she took a drag from her cigarette before replying, "I've lived on this earth much longer than you, and I can tell you that I don't understand much of it either."

Zain looked at her intensely, finally seeing an opportunity to converse with someone who could impart wisdom upon him, alleviate his doubts: "People let themselves be consumed by hate, violence…"

"You know, kid, there's something common to all these strong emotions you describe, they're often fueled by fear. Fear drives us to different extents, I've been a victim of it more than I'd like to admit... But it's not the most powerful feeling I've experienced in my life."

Zain looked at her, confused, before she continued: "You asked me what made me waste this gorgeous suit on these steps? It's regret. If I have one piece of advice for you, never let regret consume you, because nothing in this world is more paralyzing than that feeling, and sometimes, it's simply too late," she said, her thoughts drifting to Ouray, but also Carolina and Fleur, and all the mistakes made that she could never take back.

Zain looked at her, fascinated by her presence, grateful for this exchange which had managed, despite his current state, to somewhat clear his mind.

"Thank you…" he said before standing up, ready to go inside.

Darcey smiled at him before replying, "Take care, kid."

—————————-

Hadrian stood by the fireplace, bathed in the golden glow of the dancing flames, his whiskey glass in hand. In the privacy of his room, he was alone with his troubled thoughts. The conversation with Garth, like a sinister specter, kept haunting him, insidious and persistent.

It wasn't so much self-doubt that tortured him, but the nagging fear that his painful past might compromise his future with Zain.

Each sip of whiskey fueled his inner torment, intensifying it with every drop.. And while Zain seemed to radiate happiness that evening, truly in his element, Hadrian couldn't help but fear that their budding romance would be marred by the dark threats already looming over them.

Yet, in the heart of this turmoil, a flicker of hope remained, fragile but tenacious.

The thought of Zain, that unique young man he had met under improbable circumstances, who had the power to soothe his woes with a simple glance, gave him a glimmer of courage.

The door to the room opened softly, allowing Zain to enter. Hadrian's heart lit up with a smile at the sight of him, but he froze immediately upon noticing the injuries that marked the young man's face and body. Abandoning his glass, he rushed toward him, stomach knotted with anxiety.

"What happened?!" he exclaimed, eyes wide with terror, running his hand over Zain's bruised face.

"You should see the others guys..." Zain tried to joke, but Hadrian trembled at the thought of anyone daring to hurt him.

"Who did this?! I'll kill them! I’ll fucking kill them!" he roared, fists clenched.

Zain grasped his hands in his own,

his voice calm and reassuring.

"Calm down, it's not necessary. Just some homophobic thugs from the opposing team. I took care of it, and I promise they'll think twice before trying again after my retaliation."

Hadrian trembled with all his might, his eyes scanning Zain's injuries, imagining the horrors inflicted by those cowards. His anxiety threatened to overwhelm him, amplified by the curse weighing on him, and Zain understood it immediately. He tightened his grip on Hadrian's hands, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Hadrian, calm down... everything is fine. Look at me, I'm here, I'm okay.Nothing will happen to me, I promise."

The immortal’s breath was shaky,too affected to pull himself together.

His heart raced, his hands trembled uncontrollably , intertwined with Zain's. In a moment of panic , the boy saw only one way to end his torment: he kissed him.

Hadrian, overwhelmed by a torrent of conflicting emotions, initially pulled away, his eyes darkened by the pain the injustice Zain had suffered inflicted on him. But Zain was undeterred and moved closer again, kissing him with irresistible passion.

Hadrian, initially consumed by rage, eventually got carried away by the embrace, which, as their intimacy grew, transformed into a devouring passion. They were glued to each other like magnets, unable to separate. In a surge of ardent desire, Zain pressed Hadrian against the wall, his hands confidently undoing his pants while the immortal, burning with lust, removed the boy’s uniform with a gesture both brusque and precise.

The fireplace casted an intense heat onto their bodies, almost incandescent with desire. Zain's gaze was unequivocal, his doubts dispelled, as there was no room for regrets. Zain propelled Hadrian onto the bed, their clothes torn hastily strewn across the room, their bodies taut under the weight of their insatiable appetite for each other. They were in their simplest form, intertwined, and each of their movements caused such stimulation that they seemed to merge before even mingling. In five hundred years, Hadrian had never felt such a devouring, all-consuming passion, powerful enough to be lethal .

Zain's lips... every inch of his body explored by Hadrian's hands like a map whose most intimate paths were instinctively known, and the undeniable skill with which the boy made his eyes flicker in their sockets by the sheer force of his tongue.

They lost themselves in each other with a fervor and intimacy they had never dreamed of experiencing..

an almost painful power that washed over them in waves as their bodies collided bathed in an almost divine ecstasy.

—————-

Darcey had finally gathered the necessary courage to cross the doors of the manor. As she advanced through the dark corridor leading to the library where she used to meet Ouray, her mind was overwhelmed by memories of their tumultuous history, of their painful separation. Each step brought her closer to the confrontation she had long avoided. She remembered the favor she once asked of him when she discovered his secret, his true identity, and his incredible abilities. Now, she finally understood why he couldn't accept, but in her distress, she hadn't been able to see beyond her own pain, her own perspective. She had condemned their love, closing her heart forever. But perhaps, after all these years, it wasn't too late for them...

Darcey pushed open the heavy door of the library, ready to engage in the conversation she had always refused since their separation, although she had always kept Ouray’s secret. But to her great astonishment, the room was empty.

"Ray..." she called out as she approached the whiteboard that dominated the room.

What were they working on? she wondered before reading the annotations on the board, curious.

"Zain" " Decipherer Prince " "Telekinesis..." Darcey's eyes widened as she read the notes taken by Ouray during his session with the boy that morning.

Zain's true identity, his powers, were all etched in black on white.

How could they have hidden such a thing from her and the Order?

 

 

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