Fangs Across Eternity

The weight of awakening

“Ready, son?”

Adrian’s father’s voice cut through the crisp morning air. They stood outside their small home, the faint silver glow of the moons still lingering above the rooftops. Despite the early hour, the streets were already alive with vendors setting up stalls, workers rushing toward their shifts, and the distant clatter of carriage wheels on stone.

A horse-drawn carriage slowed to a stop in front of them, the coachman raising a brow.

“Zion Street,” Jorden said.

The man tipped his hat. “One Ceira note.”

Adrian’s gaze lingered on the folded paper his father handed over.

This world uses banknotes that are stamped with golden sigils. A hundred Lira makes a Ceira. A thousand Ceira for a Pound. ‘Quite strange for a medieval age to be using currency notes’

They climbed inside. The ride stretched long, hours slipping by until a massive iron sign loomed into view, 'MoonBrook Station'.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of ink, sweat, and polished wood. Officers hurried about, the echo of boots on stone blending with clipped conversations.

“Wait here,” Jorden told his son before vanishing toward the changing rooms.

When he returned, his broad frame was wrapped in a crisp blue uniform, the badge at his chest gleaming: MBPF ‘MoonBrook Police Force’.

“Jorden, is this your boy?” one officer called out, smirking at Adrian.

“Yes,” his father said, pride edging his voice. “Taking him to see the boss.”

The man snorted. “Looks like a scholar. Probably end up buried under paperwork at the counter.”

Jorden chuckled, ruffling Adrian’s hair. “Follow me.”

They stopped at a heavy wooden door. His father knocked.

“Come in,” a gravelly voice answered.

The office smelled faintly of tobacco and old parchment. Behind the desk sat a stout man, cheeks flushed, belly straining against his belt, despite his chubby look, his eyes are sharp and piercing.

“Good Morning, sir” His father saluted the chubby man sitting at the chair in front of them.

“Don’t you feel embarrassed doing this in front of your child?” the chief asked, his laughter booming.

“Why should I?” Jorden replied evenly. “This is how I put food on the table.”

The man’s gaze shifted, settling on Adrian. A frown cut across his face.

“…Boy. You carry a strange aura.”

Adrian stiffened, ‘Has he discovered me?!’

The chief leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Tell me, have you awakened?”

The words struck like a hammer. Adrian’s breath caught, then released in a shaky sigh. At least he wasn’t exposed for something worse.

Jorden’s expression froze. Pride flared first in his eyes, his son, awakened, a transcendent in the family. But the glow was quickly drowned by fear. He knew what that meant.

“Chief …..surely my son can….”

“No.” The man’s tone cut like steel. “An awakened person cannot live as ordinary. Your boy must report to the Special Unit.”

“Special Unit?!” Father and son spoke together, disbelief crashing through the room.

Adrian’s mind raced, ‘The Special Unit… the ones who guard the city at night? The same from my dream?’

“Sir, there must be another way, he’s too young, he can refuse…” Jorden’s voice cracked with desperation.

“Refuse?” The chief’s voice dropped, low and firm. “Do you not understand? An uncontrolled transcendent is a danger to all. Once awakened, spiritual sensitivity rises. You see things others can’t. Hear whispers no human should. Without training, you don’t become a man… you become a monster.”

The words pressed against Adrian’s chest like chains.

“All awakenings must be recognized by the government or the churches,” the chief continued, eyes hard. “Unregistered, you’re a threat. Nothing more.”

His stare lingered. “If your power proves harmless, like mine, perhaps you’ll return to the police. Mine only lets me glimpse auras. But most aren’t so lucky.”

Adrian’s thoughts swirled, ‘So my peace is gone. My life… over. All because of that ritual’.

“Enough,” the chief grunted, reaching for a stack of reports. “You may leave.”

Outside the office, Jorden’s hand tightened on Adrian’s shoulder. “When did it happen?”

“…Yesterday,” Adrian muttered. He remembered the splintered wood, the strength he shouldn’t have had.

Another officer passed, shaking his head. “Jorden, did you hear? A demon in human form appeared last night. The Special Squad engaged it, but it slipped away.”The man then walked off, returning back to his duty.

Jorden’s face was drained of color. He forced a weak laugh, though his eyes betrayed the fear inside.

“Your mother’s going to kill me.”

Adrian’s heart pounded, ‘So last night wasn’t a dream after all…I thought as much’

Jorden dragged him aside, away from prying ears. His grip was iron, trembling slightly.

“Adrian… listen to me. Whatever you see, whatever you feel, don’t speak of it outside this house. Not to friends, not to neighbors. Do you understand?”

Adrian nodded stiffly, though his throat was dry.

His father’s eyes were shadowed, voice low. “The Special Unit isn’t like us police or civilians. They don’t see sons or families. They see only weapons, tools to fight monsters and demons.”

Adrian’s chest tightened. He thought of his siblings, Theron buried in his books, Lydia with her sharp tongue, Clara’s bright smile and even Orion the second male Child of the family that he hasn't met yet. How long before they looked at him the way that criminal had… with fear?

“Father,” Adrian asked quietly, “what happens if I… refuse the Unit?”

Jorden’s silence was answer enough. His father’s jaw worked, but no words came. The truth was clear: refusal wasn’t an option.

The bustle of the station continued around them, boots thudding, papers shuffling. Yet Adrian felt as though the walls were leaning closer, suffocating him with each passing second.

A shrill whistle tore through the station. Officers surged toward the courtyard.

“Report from the town gate!” a voice roared. “Monsters attack!”

The chief burst out of his office, barking orders. “Guns ready. Head to the town square! We have to protect the civilians! and hold those beasts back until the Special Squad arrives!”