Chronicles of a vampire hybrid

STORMS OF SECRET

"You can't just claim you're a descendant of the White Tiger and automatically become the next priestess without proof," Helen said, her voice calm but firm.

The sun was slowly rising in the sky, casting a soft golden glow on the dewy grass. Birds chirped around them as Elias and Helen stood near a quiet stream just behind her little wooden cottage. The scent of damp earth and wildflowers filled the air.

"What's the proof then?" Elias asked, raising an eyebrow.

Helen looked at him with serious eyes. "You must pray until it rains."

Elias blinked. "That's it? That doesn't sound too hard. It's the rainy season, isn't it? We can just analyze the weather and pick the right day."

She shook her head. "It's not that easy, Elias. The rain must come not by chance, but by divine will. Only the true heir of the White Tiger can call the rain through prayer. If you fail, everyone will know you're a fraud."

Elias sighed and looked away. "Please, Helen... I can't be discovered. I need to stay in the palace if I want to have any chance of winning this battle."

Helen studied his face for a moment, then finally nodded. "Alright. But be careful."

"Thank you so much," he said, pulling her into a quick, tight hug. "I'll come and get you when the time is right."

She nodded again, silently watching as he walked away, disappearing into the morning mist.

Back at the palace, the sun was already high in the sky. Elias rode in through the gates, his horse's hooves kicking up dust on the stone path. A worried servant stood waiting by the entrance.

"Where have you been, my prince? "Your master has been looking for you everywhere," the servant said nervously.

"Master?" Elias echoed.

A loud voice echoed from behind them. "It's time for your martial arts training, my prince."

It was Master Ben and the prince’s martial arts instructor. The older man had a strong build and a sharp gaze. He tossed a wooden sword toward Elias, who caught it with ease.

"Follow me," Master Ben ordered.

Without a word, Elias followed him to the training ground.

"The king has commanded that your training continues," the master said firmly.

Elias rolled his eyes. "I don't think I need this."

Master Ben raised his brows. "What did you say?"

"Forget it," Elias muttered, then walked over to the weapons rack. He picked up two real swords and threw one toward the master. "Why don't we train for real and see who's lacking?"

As they faced each other, the king happened to pass by the training ground. Curious, he stopped to watch from a distance, hidden behind a wall.

Without waiting, Elias lunged forward. His movements were fast, sharp, and confident. After only two strikes, Master Ben's sword flew from his hand and hit the ground. Elias pointed his sword at him and smiled.

"See? I don't need any training."

He turned and walked away, leaving the shocked master behind.

The king, hidden from view, stood still. His heart pounded. This can't be... My son could barely lift a sword before. Has he been pretending? Or... is something else going on?

"Has the prince recalled any of his memories?" he asked a servant nearby.

"No, Your Highness," the servant replied, bowing deeply.

That night, under a sky full of stars, Elias sat quietly on the rooftop of the west wing. The cool wind brushed against his face. The palace grounds looked peaceful, with soft torchlight glowing at every corner.

Then he noticed something odd. A figure was sneaking out of the palace…wearing a maid’s clothes and covering her face with a scarf. The way she moved was too graceful for a maid. Elias narrowed his eyes and smiled slightly. Seraphina.

He stood and silently followed her from the rooftops.

She left through a small back gate and walked toward the thick forest behind the palace. The trees here were tall and old, their branches twisted like arms reaching for the sky. Crickets chirped, and the moonlight barely touched the ground.

After walking for a while, she arrived at a hidden cave. Vines and moss grew around the entrance, and faint glowing stones lined the path inside.

Two men were already waiting there. She handed them a small scroll wrapped in a red cloth.

"Make sure you deliver this safely," she said in a low voice.

Suddenly, an arrow shot from the darkness, striking one of the men in the neck. He fell without a sound. Another arrow flew and hit the second man in the chest.

"Seraphina!" Elias shouted, seeing the next arrow flying straight at her.

He jumped from a tree branch, landed beside her, and caught the arrow midair with his bare hand. The force made his palm bleed slightly, but he didn’t flinch.

Seraphina gasped. He caught an arrow? With his hand? My brother could never do that... What’s going on?

Before she could process it, figures in red cloaks appeared from the shadows. Ten assassins surrounded them.

"Stay behind me. "I can handle this," Elias said calmly, drawing his sword.

She nodded, too shocked to speak.

Elias moved like a storm. He dashed forward, slicing through the assassins one by one. The sound of metal clashing and bodies hitting the ground filled the air. Within seconds, only one assassin was left.

The last one pulled out a bow and shot an arrow at Seraphina.

"No!" Elias shouted, rushing to push her out of the way.

The arrow hit him instead, piercing his right arm.

The assassin turned to run. With a burst of pain and fury, Elias threw his sword like a spear. It spun through the air and landed straight into the assassin’s skull, ending it instantly.

"Are you okay?" Elias asked, breathing heavily.

Seraphina nodded, her chest rising and falling fast. She looked at his arm. The skin around the wound was turning a strange purple color.

"You're poisoned!" she said, her voice shaking.

Elias pulled the arrow out and groaned in pain. The poison worked fast.

His knees gave out, and he fell to the ground.

"Brother... "Brother, stay with me!" she cried, holding him close.

But his vision was already fading. Darkness crept into the corners of his eyes.

Seraphina cried, her voice trembling with panic.

She dropped to her knees beside him, holding his upper body in her arms. His skin was cold, and sweat had already broken across his forehead. His breathing became shallow, uneven. The purple color around the wound was spreading fast, and that terrified her.

“No… no, no, no... please don’t die...” she whispered, brushing his hair from his face. His eyes flickered open for a second.

“Seraphina…” he whispered weakly, his voice barely audible. 

Tears ran down her cheeks as she looked at his face—so pale, yet still trying to stay strong.

“I have to get you help,” she said, her hands trembling. She looked around, unsure what to do. They were deep inside the forest, and it was far from the palace. The moon above was partly hidden by clouds, casting dim silver light through the trees. The wind rustled the leaves above them, and the air had grown colder.

She tried to lift him, but he was too heavy for her. His body leaned against hers, almost lifeless.

“Think, Seraphina, think...” she muttered to herself, trying not to break down completely.

Then she remembered—there was a healer who lived near the edge of the forest. An old woman who once served in the palace many years ago before choosing to live in peace.

“I’ll get help,” she whispered. “Just hold on.”

She carefully laid him down and took off her outer robe, folding it as a pillow under his head. Then, with one last look at him, she turned and ran.

It felt like forever as she ran through the dark woods. Her chest burned, and her legs ached, but she didn’t stop. Not even once. Branches scratched her arms and face, but she didn’t feel the pain. All she could think of was her brother—bleeding, poisoned, dying.

Finally, a flicker of warm light appeared ahead.

The old healer’s hut.

Seraphina banged on the door, panting. “Please! I need help! Someone’s dying!”

An old woman opened the door, wearing a thick shawl and holding a small lantern. Her eyes widened the moment she saw the panic on Seraphina’s face.

“Where is he?” the woman asked, not wasting a moment.

“In the forest! "Not far!” Seraphina cried. “He was shot with a poisoned arrow.”

Without another word, the healer grabbed a small leather bag full of herbs and bottles, then followed her.

Back in the forest, Elias was barely conscious. The stars above him were blurry, dancing in circles. His body felt numb, and the pain in his arm was now crawling to his chest.

“Seraphina…” he mumbled again, trying to move but failing.

Then he heard footsteps. Two people. One of them is familiar.

“I’m here!” Seraphina called out. “He’s here!

The healer bent down beside Elias quickly, checking his wound. “This poison is not common… 

She pulled out a small curved knife and some herbs.

“What are you doing?” Seraphina asked, eyes wide with fear.

“I have to cut around the wound and suck out the poison… or he won’t see morning.”

Seraphina covered her mouth, watching as the woman worked. Elias gritted his teeth when the blade touched his skin. Even in his state, the pain made him gasp. The healer worked fast, her hands steady. Then she spat out the poison, wiped her mouth, and poured something over the wound that made his whole arm twitch.

Finally, she wrapped it tightly with a clean cloth and gave him a bitter herb to chew.

“He needs rest,” the healer said. “The poison’s not all gone." But he’ll live—if he stays warm and still.”

Seraphina sighed in relief, falling to her knees.

“Thank you…” she whispered, looking at the woman with grateful eyes.

Elias tried to speak again. “Thank you 

Seraphina leaned in close. “You’d do the same for me, right?”

His lips curved into a faint smile.

“You’re... warm,” he whispered.

She blushed, brushing his hair again.

“Just sleep now. You’ll be okay.”

The forest was quiet again. The danger had passed… for now.

But Seraphina couldn’t forget what she saw.

Her brother had changed. He moved like a warrior. He caught arrows with his bare hands. He fought ten assassins alone.

what secret was he hiding?