the legacy of A Past Life

Rafael ran ahead, pushing open the creaking cabin door with one swift movement. The structure was small and run-down, with weathered plank walls covered in moss and a broken window that let in dim light filtered through the surrounding trees. The wooden floor was covered in dry leaves and dust, and the air carried a damp, musty smell. In the corner of the cabin, Landon Kirby sat, his face pale and his eyes wide with surprise and relief at the sight of Rafael.

— Rafa! Damn! — Landon exclaimed, standing up quickly and running to hug Rafael tightly, almost knocking him over. — How did you find me, man?

Rafael returned the hug for a moment, relieved, but soon pulled away, his expression serious.

"There's a bunch of witches after you, Landon," he said, his voice firm. "And there's a busload of burned people. What have you done, man?"

Before Landon could respond, Hope entered the cabin about ten seconds after Rafael, her determined footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. Her eyes flared with anger as she muttered a low spell, a soft light emanating from her hand to illuminate the interior. Ethan followed close behind, his backpack slung over his shoulder, watching everything with a mixture of curiosity and tension.

"So who was it?" Hope asked, her voice sharp as her eyes fixed on Landon, who was still standing near Rafael.

Rafael turned to Hope, hesitating for a moment.

"You said three minutes," he retorted, his voice thick with frustration.

Hope gave a slight wry smile, crossing her arms.

"I told you everyone lies," she replied, her tone mocking. Without giving him a chance to explain further, she reached out her hand and shouted, "Motus!"

An invisible force struck Landon like a blow, ripping him from Rafael's grasp and slamming him against the cabin wall with a loud thud. He was pinned there, his feet dangling a few inches from the ground, his body immobilized by Hope's magic. Landon let out a groan of pain, his eyes wide with shock.

Hope stepped towards him, fists clenched, anger written all over her face.

"Where's the knife, Landon?" she asked, her voice icy, her eyes narrowed as she stared at him.

Landon, still pinned to the wall, was breathing heavily, his face contorted in pain and fear.

— No… I don't have it… — he stammered, his voice trembling. — I… I must have lost it…

Hope interrupted him, her voice sharp as a blade.

"Did you lose after you burned the bus?" she asked, accusation dripping from every word.

Landon shook his head frantically, his eyes wide with despair.

"It wasn't me!" he exclaimed, his voice hoarse. "I almost didn't get out of there alive… I swear, Hope!"

Rafael took a step forward, his expression torn between concern and frustration.

— Hope, wait! — he begged, raising his hands in a gesture of supplication. — Let him speak, please. He's telling the truth, I know Landon!

Hope gritted her teeth, but took a step back, her eyes still fixed on Landon.

"So who was it?" she asked, her tone thick with suspicion.

Landon took a deep breath, still pinned to the wall, and replied, his voice shaking:

— There was… there was a girl… — he began, hesitantly. — She spat fire from her mouth… set the bus on fire… and all the people…

Hope's eyes narrowed further, her mind reeling from Landon's words. Before she could respond, Landon turned his head to Rafael, desperation evident on his face.

— Rafa, help me, please! — he begged, his voice full of fear. — I didn't do any of this, I swear!

Rafael took another step forward, his expression tense, clearly torn between loyalty to his friend and pressure from Hope.

"Hope, please let him go," Rafael said, his voice firm but with a hint of pleading. "I believe Landon. He's telling the truth."

Ethan, who had been watching from the doorway, stepped into the cabin, his eyes fixed on Landon. When he met the boy's gaze, something in Landon's expression—the raw fear, the genuine desperation—made Ethan's chest tighten. He wasn't an expert in magic or the supernatural, but he could read people, and in that moment, he knew Landon wasn't lying. There was truth in those eyes.

"Hope, I… I don't think he's lying," Ethan said, his voice hesitant but firm as he looked from Landon to Hope. "He looks… I don't know, really scared."

Hope glared at Rafael and Ethan, clearly irritated by the interruption.

"Do you really believe that a woman breathed fire and set an entire bus on fire?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she glared at Rafael.

Ethan shrugged, a playful smile appearing on his face, trying to ease the tension.

— I don't know, there are all kinds of crazy people out there, aren't there? — he said, laughing lightly. — It wouldn't be too difficult, would it?

Hope turned to Ethan, eyes narrowed, irritation evident.

"Is it just Landon who was spared?" she asked, her tone sharp, turning her attention back to Landon.

Rafael answered before Landon could speak, his voice firm.

"He ran away," Rafael said, crossing his arms. "Conveniently losing the knife along the way, what a thing, huh?"

Landon shook his head, still pinned to the wall, desperation rising in his voice.

"She ran after me!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide. "She was burning everything in her path… I barely managed to escape!"

Hope crossed her arms, her expression still full of distrust.

"Do you want to start by explaining why you stole the knife?" she asked, her voice cold, pressing Landon once more.

Landon hesitated, breathing heavily, before answering:

"I… I don't remember stealing the knife," he said, his voice shaking, almost begging to be believed.

Hope snorted, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Of course not," she said sarcastically, shaking her head. "And why not pretend you were hypnotized too?"

Landon swallowed, his eyes darting from Hope to Rafael, seeking support.

"It was to avoid being thrown into the dungeon again," he replied, his voice thick with frustration.

Hope raised an eyebrow, immediately correcting him.

"Transition basement," she said, her tone dry.

"Small spaces," Landon said, his voice rising. "Hope, please listen to me. Mr. Saltzman said I wouldn't stay at school. If I said anything, he'd lock me up. There was no happy ending for me in that place. I didn't want to steal from you…or have a fire-breather after me!"

Rafael took a step forward, his expression determined.

"Landon's not lying," he said, his voice firm, looking directly at Hope. "I know him. If he says there's a fire-breather out there, there must be one."

Before Hope could respond, the cabin door banged open, and Alaric rushed in, his face flushed and his breathing labored. His eyes swept the scene quickly, the tension palpable in his posture.

"There's a woman breathing fire in the forest!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with urgency.

Ethan, who had been holding back his laughter until then, could no longer contain himself and let out a loud laugh, doubling over slightly as he held his stomach.

"Your appearance is convenient, Mr. Saltzman!" he said with a laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "You arrived just in time for Hope to almost rip Landon's head off!"

Hope turned to Alaric, her expression serious.

"Ric, she wants the knife," she said, pointing at Landon.

Alaric sighed, looking at Landon with a mixture of exasperation and concern.

— Well, where is she? — he asked, his voice firm.

All eyes turned to Landon, who was still pinned to the wall. He shook his head, his despair evident.

— I don't know… I lost it on the way — he said, his voice trembling. — I ran all night looking for a place to hide…

Alaric rubbed his temples, trying to remain calm.

"Okay," he said, his voice firm. "Well, let's find the knife before the witch… and before she turns everyone here into barbecue."

Wasting no time, the group ran up the stairs, emerging from inside the cabin into a larger shed. There, they came across the "woman". She stared at them with half-closed eyes, her posture tense, the air around her charged with a threatening energy. Alaric raised his hands, trying to calm the situation.

"We don't want any trouble," he said, his voice calm but firm.

The woman reached out toward Alaric, her eyes fixed on him for a moment before sliding to Landon, a dangerous glint in her gaze. Rafael frowned, taking a step forward.

"What does she want?" he asked, his voice thick with caution.

Landon shook his head, his breathing quickening.

— I don't know what she wanted… — he murmured, his fear evident.

Hope crossed her arms, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe she wants the knife you said you didn't have," she said sarcastically, giving Landon a challenging look.

The woman's expression changed instantly, her eyes now blazing with anger. She opened her mouth, clearly about to spit fire, when Alaric shouted, "

— Everyone run for cover, now!

The group ran toward a makeshift shelter in the shed, but the woman breathed a blast of fire that hit the shelter door, blocking the entrance with intense flames. Alaric turned to Hope, his voice urgent.

— Hope, help with the door! — he asked.

Hope held out her hands, muttering a spell, and the fire disappeared in the blink of an eye. She dropped her hands, breathing heavily.

"It won't last long," she said, her voice strained.

Alaric nodded, looking around.

"I need a cell phone," he said, his voice firm.

Landon pointed to a barrel full of belongings in the corner of the shed.

"You can choose," he said, his voice shaking.

Ethan approached the barrel, curious, and picked up one of the bracelets, bringing it to his nose to smell it. His eyes widened as he noticed the golden glow.

"Dude, what the hell is this?" he exclaimed, holding up the bracelet. "This is gold!" He looked at Landon, his surprise evident. "Where did this come from?"

Landon shook his head, eyes wide.

"I don't know anything," he said, his voice nervous. "These things were already here when I arrived…"

Rafael and Alaric approached the barrel, examining the contents. It was a mix of bracelets, jewelry, and cell phones, along with a few scattered ID cards. Hope frowned, stepping closer.

"Whose things are these?" she asked, picking up one of the cards.

Rafael looked at the items, his expression grim.

"They were from the people on the bus," he said, his voice low.

All eyes turned to Landon, who raised his hands in defense.

"I didn't catch any of that!" he exclaimed, his voice full of panic.

Hope took a step forward, her tone threatening.

— If you say 'I swear' one more time, I'll kill you — she retorted, her eyes flashing.

After a few minutes, Alaric, who had found a cell phone in the barrel, called one of his students. He explained the situation in detail, describing the fire-breathing woman and the warehouse full of contraband. The boy on the other end of the line listened intently, and Hope added:

—Landon Kirby's sly hand claims he didn't steal any of it.

Rafael intervened, trying to calm the tension.

"There's a fire-breather out there," he said. "She should focus her anger on it."

The guy on the other end of the line hesitated before saying something about "dragons?" Ethan, who had been listening to everything, was stunned, his eyes wide.

"Does that exist?" he asked, his voice full of disbelief. "Are dragons real?"

Alaric rolled his eyes, his voice firm.

"Dragons don't exist," he said. "And they certainly don't look like normal people."

The boy on the other side retorted, his tone sarcastic.

—They've said the same thing about vampires, and look where we are — he said.

Alaric turned his head, shaking it as if trying to process the idea, before letting out an exasperated sigh.

— Okay, she's a dragon-human. That's great. What now? — he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

As they talked, Ethan felt something strange inside him. It was like something was banging against a wall or a cage, wanting to get out. His chest began to tighten, and his heart raced, his breathing becoming faster. No one seemed to notice, and he forced himself to turn his attention back to the group. Hope said something and, to everyone's surprise, pulled a knife from behind her, holding it tightly.

Ethan couldn't resist and scoffed, a crooked smile on his face.

"Wow, was I with you the whole time, Hope?" he said, his voice breathless as he tried to hide his discomfort.

Hope looked at Ethan, noticing he was panting, and frowned.

"What's going on, Ethan?" she asked, her voice worried. "Why are you panting like that?"

All eyes turned to Ethan, who held up his hands, trying to downplay it.

"It's nothing," he said, his voice shaking. "You guys should focus on the… 'dragonoid' or whatever."

Alaric raised an eyebrow, the irony obvious.

— Dragonoid? — he repeated, almost laughing.

Ethan, still panting, gave a weak smile.

— It was the best name that came to mind right now — he joked, trying to compose himself.

Hope brushed the comment aside and walked out of the shed, her eyes fixed on the dragon woman. With a swift movement, she cast a spell, knocking the woman away with a magical force. Ethan and Rafael ran out after her. Inside Ethan, something seemed to howl, as if it were preparing to come out, but he tried to ignore it.

The dragon woman stood up, her eyes blazing with anger, and spat a blast of fire towards Hope. Quickly, Hope raised the knife in front of her, and the fire stopped in midair, as if the blade had some kind of magical protection. When the fire died down, Rafael picked up a rock from the ground and threw it at the woman, distracting her.

Ethan, seeing the opportunity, turned to Hope urgently.

— Give me the knife! — he asked, his voice tense.

Hope was taken aback, hesitating for a moment, but then she threw the knife at him. Ethan caught it in midair and suddenly ran at superhuman speeds toward the dragon woman. With one precise movement, he stabbed her right in the heart. The woman fell, and Ethan stood there for about ten seconds, staring at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. For some reason, everything inside him calmed down, as if a storm had dissipated.

Hope, Alaric, Landon, and Rafael stood there, staring at Ethan's back, perplexed. Hope was the first to break the silence.

"Ethan, are you okay?" she asked, her voice thick with concern.

Ethan didn't answer right away. For a brief moment, his eyes—which no one saw—both turned green with black rims, before returning to their normal color: one blue, one green. He turned to the group with a forced smile.

"It's okay," he said, his voice a little shaky, but trying to sound casual.

Everyone sighed in relief, but still confused. Hope, Rafael, and Landon went downstairs to find a shovel and bury the dragon woman, while Ethan stayed behind, alone. He felt something different inside him, an energy he couldn't explain, but he decided to keep it to himself for now.

No one knew it, but the woman Ethan had just killed could, in her true form, transform into a huge dragon. There was something peculiar about her: in order for her to truly die, the knife had to either penetrate her heart directly or be imbued with a massive amount of magic and pass through her neck. Ethan had instinctively made sure that the blow was accurate, hitting the woman's heart without hesitation. That's why she lay dead on the ground, her body motionless, with no chance of regenerating or revealing her draconic form. The mystery would remain hidden for now.

After a few moments of tense silence, Hope and Rafael reappeared, coming down from the shed with a shovel in their hands. Hope held the shovel tightly, her eyes still full of concern as she approached Ethan. She stopped in front of him and, with a hesitant movement, extended the shovel toward him.

"Here," she said, handing the shovel to Ethan. Her voice was soft, but there was a note of seriousness. "How do you feel about all this? You… killed someone."

Ethan picked up the shovel, his fingers gripping the wood as he stared at the woman lying on the ground. He didn't really know how to feel. There was a part of him—oddly exhilarated by the adrenaline of the confrontation, by the inhuman speed that had shot through him, by the power he'd felt as he'd driven the knife home. But there was also the weight of reality: he'd taken a life. Or something. It was all so confusing, so far outside his normal comprehension, that he fell silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the body.

"I… I don't know," he finally admitted, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I was a little excited, you know. I've never been on a magical adventure before? This whole thing… was intense. But… I killed someone. Or something. It's weird."

Hope nodded, her eyes softening as she sat down beside him, the floor cool beneath her feet. Rafael and Landon walked away slowly, while Alaric busied himself examining the shed.

"The feeling of killing someone is really bad," Hope said, her voice thick with an experience Ethan didn't yet understand. "It doesn't matter what it was. It stays with you for a while. Sometimes forever."

Ethan turned his head toward her, his heterochromatic eyes searching hers. There was genuine curiosity in his expression, mixed with the confusion that still gripped him.

"What was your first kill like?" he asked, his voice hesitant, almost as if he feared the answer.

Hope took a deep breath, her eyes wandering for a moment to the horizon, as if reviewing painful memories. She hesitated before speaking, her voice low and thick with emotion.

— It was a few years ago — she began, her hands gripping her knee. — I was angry, my mother had just died and I needed to take it out on something or someone, so there was an opportunity for this to happen and I did, but... I ended up killing a human in the middle of that crossfire and I ended up activating the werewolf curse in myself. 

Ethan listened in silence, his eyes fixed on her. The intensity of Hope's story hit him like a punch, but it also made him feel a strange connection to her. He looked down at the shovel in his hands, then down at the dragon woman's body, and felt a lump in his throat.

"I don't know if I feel bad," he admitted, his voice barely audible. — Maybe I should. But… I also feel strong. As if I had done what needed to be done.

Hope placed her hand on his shoulder, a gesture of comfort coming from her.

"It will haunt you, Ethan," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "But it also shapes you. Just…don't let it define you."

Rafael approached, breaking the moment of introspection.

"Let's bury her," he said quietly, looking at Landon, who nodded silently.

The group began to organize, but Ethan remained silent, his mind spinning. Something inside him still felt different—a latent energy he couldn't explain. His eyes glowed a steady green for a moment before returning to their natural color, but no one noticed. He gripped the shovel tighter, trying to focus on the task at hand, as the weight of what he had done began to settle on his chest.

The burial was silent, except for the sound of the shovel cutting through the earth and the occasional rustle of leaves around it. Hope led the effort, the movements mechanical, Ethan, who seemed lost in thought. Alaric had headed toward the car earlier. When they were finished, Ethan and Hope covered the grave with dirt and stones, marking the end of a confrontation no one had expected.

After a while, exhausted and silent, they began to walk back to the car parked a few meters from the cabin. Hope approached, her eyes still filled with a mixture of anger and introspection.

"Where are Landon and Rafael?" she asked, her voice sharp, breaking the silence.

Alaric pointed to the car's windshield, where a folded letter was stuck under the wiper.

"They're gone," he said, his voice neutral. "They left this for you."

Hope grabbed the letter with a jerky movement, unfolding it quickly. The words were short but charged with emotion—an apology from Landon, a promise from Rafael to return when everything was safe. The sentimentality of the message hit Hope like a punch. Her anger had been fading for some time—but she understood that this was all her father's doing, the revenge that consumed her, the same fire that had driven her out of control years ago. She knew this feeling well, this desire to punish, to make someone pay. Maybe she needed to adjust her thoughts again. 

In the car, during the drive back to the Salvatore School, Hope didn't say a single word. Sitting in the backseat, arms crossed and staring out the window, she ignored both Ethan and Alaric, letting the silence weigh like an invisible barrier. Alaric drove attentively, occasionally casting worried glances in the rearview mirror, but not daring to break the stillness. Ethan, beside her, felt the weight of her silence, but was also lost in his own thoughts.

When they arrived at the Salvatore School, the car stopped, and everyone got out in silence. Alaric went to his office, carrying the weariness of yet another resolved crisis. Hope walked toward the dorms, her steps heavy, as if carrying the weight of her inheritance. Ethan, in turn, headed to his room, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

He closed the door behind him and set the shovel against the wall, his body falling back onto the bed with an exhausted sigh. Everything that had happened swirled in his head—the adrenaline of the fight, the inhuman speed, the moment he'd plunged the knife into the dragon woman's heart. He'd killed someone. Or something. Even if it wasn't actually human, her presence, the way she'd seemed human until the very last moment, carried the same weight he imagined taking a human life would feel. Ethan had never killed anything beyond the occasional bug or rat that had wandered into his house. Nothing had prepared him for this level of violence, for the blood on his hands, for the strange mix of strength and guilt that consumed him.

His feelings were a mess. Part of him still vibrated with the excitement of adventure, the discovery of a power he didn't understand. But another part—bigger, heavier—felt an emptiness, an echoing question: What had he become? He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, and decided to sleep, hoping that rest would bring some clarity. But as sleep took him, the image of the woman falling and the green glow in his own eyes continued to haunt him, like a secret he wasn't yet ready to face.

He closed his eyes, trying to push his thoughts away, and decided to sleep, hoping that rest would bring some clarity. But as sleep took him, the darkness of his mind gave way to a nightmare that tore him from any peace.

In his dreams, Ethan found himself in a dark void, the air heavy and cold against his skin. Before him, a huge figure emerged from the shadows—a colossal being, with enormous claws that tore at the earth and razor-sharp teeth that gleamed in a ghostly light. Its deep green eyes were mirrors of his own, one blue, the other green, but filled with a savagery that made him freeze. The creature opened its mouth, and a deafening sound escaped—a guttural howl, like a wolf's, echoing through his soul, filled with fury and power. Ethan tried to scream, but his voice was drowned out by the roar, and the being lunged forward, claws outstretched toward him, before he woke with a start, his heart pounding and sweat beading on his forehead.

He sat up in bed, panting, his eyes wide as he tried to catch his breath. The image of the being and the howl still echoed in his mind, mingling with the memory of the dragon woman and the green glow he had seen on himself. Something inside him seemed to stir, a secret he did not yet understand, but which frightened him more than anything he had faced that night.