A Spark In The Shadow

CHAPTER - TWENTY ONE

The small village of Havenwood groaned under the weight of its hurts. Broken wood lay scattered where shops once stood, and the smell of ash still hung in the air, mixing with the wet dirt. The horror of the vampire attack, the sight of Duskiel, the quiet boy, letting out dark power, and Kael's sharp words, all weighed heavily on Brianna's heart. She felt a deep, twisting worry for Duskiel, who had been taken by the hunters. How could he be a vampire? she kept asking herself, her mind spinning with confusion and a fierce loyalty. He saved us. He couldn't be a monster. She moved through her house, helping her mother clean up, her hands restless, her face wrinkled with worry.

Her house, though not burned, had been messed up in the panic. Furniture lay on its side, and dust covered everything. Her mother, her face showing how tired she was, sighed as she pushed a heavy, wooden box in the attic.

"Oh, goodness, Brianna," she said, her voice strained. "Could you help me with these old boxes? We need to clear this corner. So much to do. My back is aching something fierce."

Brianna nodded, thankful for something to focus on. Her thoughts kept going back to Duskiel: his pain, the strong power she had seen, the cold look in Kael's eyes. She felt a mix of fear and a strange pull towards him, wanting to understand his secret, wanting to believe Kael was wrong.

"Of course, Mama," she replied, pushing aside a stack of dusty, old chairs. Tucked deep in a dark corner, almost hidden, was a wooden box. It was small, but heavy. Brianna pulled hard, bringing it out into a thin beam of moonlight that poked through the dirt on the attic window.

She wiped a thick layer of dust from its lid with her sleeve. The wood was dark, smooth in places, almost like polished stone. It had strange, curving lines carved into its lid, like twisted plants, or perhaps tiny, swirling stars. She’d never seen anything quite like it before. It felt old, very old.

"Mama, whose is this?" she asked, her voice soft, her interest sparked by the strange carvings.

"It's so old, and I've never seen it before."

Her mother glanced over, her mind still on a pile of old blankets.

"That old thing? Oh, that was one of your grandfather's odd finds. He used to bring home all sorts of strange things, you know. He always said this one felt 'alive' somehow, but he never did open it, or at least, not that I ever saw. Never really knew what was in it, honestly. Probably just old papers or some forgotten little things. Be careful with it, dear, it looks easy to break."

Brianna set the box gently on the dusty floor. The lock, old and rusty, clicked softly as she pushed it. She lifted the lid slowly. The air inside was still and cool. It didn't smell like dust, but of something else – a faint, sweet smell, like dried wildflowers and very old, dry paper.

The first thing she saw was a layer of soft, dark velvet cloth, folded carefully. She gently pulled it aside, her fingers touching the soft surface. Underneath, settled among other small, forgotten things, was a book. It wasn't a schoolbook, or a storybook. It was small, no bigger than her hand, and covered in soft, dark leather. The leather was smooth in places, as if it had been held often, loved often. It had no title on its back, no words on its front cover. It looked plain, almost unseen, yet it drew her eye.

Brianna reached for it, her fingers touching the soft leather. It felt cool at first, then surprisingly warm, almost alive, in her hand. A faint beat seemed to thrum from its center, too light to be truly felt, but clear enough to make her stop. A strange feeling, a familiar spark, like the one she'd felt when she pushed back the vampire during the attack, flared briefly in her chest.

"Mama," she whispered, almost to herself.

"This book... it feels strange."

Her mother, deep in her own task, only hummed in reply.