Hybrid !

Aegon Vandaryn

Aegon stood motionless in the middle of a battlefield that stretched far beyond the horizon. The ground beneath him was soft and slippery, each step sinking into a pool of thick, dark red that clung to his boots like a living thing. The smell of iron was suffocating, mingling with the acrid tang of burnt flesh. The sky above was an unnatural shade of crimson, swirling with black clouds that twisted and coiled like restless serpents.

Aegon's breathing came in ragged gasps as he looked down at his hands. They were drenched in blood—sticky, warm, and fresh. It dripped from his fingers, staining the hilt of the sword he didn't remember holding. The blade was jagged, like it had been broken and reforged a hundred times, and it pulsed in his grip as though alive.

The bodies surrounded him. Donna was the first he saw, her lifeless form crumpled a few feet away. Her pale face was frozen in an expression of sheer terror, her hands clutching at her throat as though she had tried to stop something from tearing it open. Her chest was caved in, her ribs exposed like shattered glass piercing through her skin.

Diego lay not far from her, his body twisted unnaturally. One of his arms was missing, severed cleanly at the shoulder, and the jagged stump oozed blood onto the soaked ground. His eyes were closed, his face almost peaceful, but Aegon's stomach churned when he saw the deep claw marks running across his torso, as if some monstrous beast had toyed with him before delivering the final blow.

Bonnie's body was slumped over Enzo's. Her hair, usually wild and defiant, was matted with blood, sticking to her bruised face. Aegon took a step toward her, his heart hammering in his chest, but his foot splashed into the blood, sending ripples across the crimson sea. He stopped when he saw her hand—a single, delicate hand clutching Enzo's arm, as if she had died trying to protect him.

And then there was Enzo.

His unshakable cousin, the one who always stood tall, lay still as stone. His face was turned upward, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the blood-soaked sky. A gaping wound ran down his chest, as though he'd been split open from his neck to his stomach. His cast—the one he had been wearing after breaking his hand—was shattered, the fabric stained and shredded. Aegon's knees buckled at the sight, and the sword fell from his trembling grip.

But the worst was Attius.

Pinned to a tree at the far end of the battlefield, his body hung lifelessly, impaled through the chest by a blackened, twisted spear. Blood cascaded down the bark, pooling at the roots of the tree that seemed to writhe and twist unnaturally beneath him. His head lolled to the side, his face pale and streaked with crimson tears that had run from his lifeless eyes. Around him, the tree's branches stretched like skeletal arms, adorned with other lifeless forms—faceless, shadowy figures that seemed to mock Aegon with their silent screams.

Aegon wanted to scream, but no sound came. His legs felt like lead, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the eerie silence around him. And then he heard it—the voice.

"You did this."

The words were a whisper, yet they cut through the air like a blade. Aegon spun around, but the battlefield was empty. The voice came again, louder this time, dripping with malice.

"This is your destiny, Aegon Vandaryn. Their blood is on your hands."

He looked down at his hands again, and this time, the blood wasn't just there—it was seeping from his skin, bubbling up from beneath his flesh. He clawed at his arms, desperate to rid himself of it, but it only spread, crawling up his neck and staining his vision red.

Then, the ground shook.

A towering figure rose from the sea of blood, its form cloaked in writhing shadows. Its face was an abyss, save for two glowing golden eyes that burned with unspeakable hatred. The being stretched a clawed hand toward Aegon, and the earth seemed to shatter beneath its power.

"You are nothing," it hissed, its voice a cacophony of screams and whispers. "You will fall, and your bloodline will burn."

The creature lunged, its claws closing around Aegon's throat. He tried to fight back, but his limbs wouldn't move. Pain exploded in his chest as the claws pierced his skin, and the last thing he saw before the darkness consumed him was the faces of his family, lifeless and broken, staring up at him in silent condemnation.

Aegon jolted awake, his scream frozen in his throat. His eyes were wide open, staring at the dim ceiling of his room, but his body refused to move. His chest heaved as though an invisible weight was pressing down on him, pinning him to the bed. The room felt suffocatingly quiet, save for the faint pounding of his heart that echoed in his ears.

He tried to move his arms, his legs—anything—but it was as if his body wasn't his own. Panic surged through him, and his breaths became shallow and erratic. It was only a sleep paralysis, he told himself. Just a sleep para…. But then he saw it.

The figure was there, standing at the foot of his bed.

It was the same monstrous being from his dream, draped in shadow and blood, its molten golden eyes glowing like twin flames in the darkness. Blood dripped from its skeletal hands, pooling on the floor, and spreading toward him like tendrils. Aegon's breath hitched as he realized the pool of blood was rising, slowly climbing up the walls like veins pulsing with life.

The walls began to crack, deep fissures forming as the blood seeped through, dripping down in thick, viscous streams. The once-familiar room twisted into a grotesque, pulsating chamber. The ceiling seemed to lower, bending inward as if it were alive, suffocating him further.

"You thought you could wake," the creature hissed, its voice slithering into Aegon's ears like a venomous serpent. "You thought you could escape me."

Aegon's throat tightened as the blood pooling around his bed thickened, bubbling like molten lava. The figure took a step forward, its clawed feet leaving burning prints on the floor. Its movements were slow, deliberate, like it enjoyed watching Aegon struggle.

"I am waiting for you," it said, its voice reverberating through the room, shaking the walls. "In the upside world."

Aegon wanted to scream, to break free, to do anything to stop this horror, but his body was frozen in place. The blood reached the edges of the bed now, soaking into the sheets and crawling toward his chest. His breaths came in shallow gasps as he felt the icy cold of it creeping over his skin, burning and freezing all at once.

The figure leaned closer, its face now mere inches from his. Its breath reeked of decay, and its eyes seemed to pierce straight through his soul. Its blackened, bony hand reached out, its fingers dripping blood that sizzled as it fell onto Aegon's paralyzed form.

"You cannot run. You cannot hide," it whispered, its voice filled with dark glee. "You will come to me, Aegon Vandaryn. And when you do, your blood will flow just like theirs."

The creature's other hand reached toward the walls, and with a single swipe, the blood-soaked cracks burst open. Torrents of crimson poured out, flooding the room. Aegon's mouth opened in a silent scream as the blood reached his neck, choking him, pulling him under. He could feel it in his lungs, thick and heavy, as the creature's laughter echoed louder and louder.

And then, everything stopped.

The blood. The creature. The suffocating darkness. It all vanished as though it had never been there. Aegon was left staring at the ceiling, gasping for air, his body still trembling and drenched in cold sweat. He bolted upright, clutching his chest, his breaths ragged and shallow.

The room was normal again—or at least it looked that way. But deep down, Aegon knew the truth. That wasn't just a nightmare. That wasn't his mind playing tricks on him. The figure was real. And it was waiting for him.

Aegon looked around, his breaths still ragged, his heart pounding in his ears. "It wasn't a nightmare," he muttered, his voice trembling. "It was real."

The figure wasn't gone.

It lingered there, half-shrouded in shadow, its golden eyes burning into him.

"I'll be waiting," it whispered once more, before vanishing into the darkness.

Donna Vandaryn

Donna woke to the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic beeping of machines. The room was quiet, but it carried a strange energy, like the walls themselves buzzed with life. She blinked, disoriented for a moment, before remembering where she was.

The organization.

Enzo had convinced her to stay the night. "It's safe," he'd said, flashing one of his rare smiles. "You'll see, it's not all boring rules and procedures. You might actually enjoy it."

She hadn't believed him at first—Enzo always had a way of spinning his plans to sound better than they actually were. But the truth was, she was curious. There was something about this place, something hidden beneath the layers of shiny tech and smiling faces in white coats, that Enzo wasn't telling her.

Donna stretched and got out of the bed. The guest quarters were sleek but surprisingly cozy, with a soft mattress and thick blankets that smelled faintly of lavender. She quickly dressed, brushing her fingers through her hair as she stepped into the hallway.

The organization was alive with activity, even this early in the morning. People in white lab coats hurried past her, some nodding in acknowledgment. A few even greeted her warmly.

"Morning, Donna," one of them said as they passed, holding a clipboard filled with complex-looking diagrams.

She raised a hand awkwardly. "Uh, morning."

It had only been a few days, but Donna had to admit she was starting to feel… comfortable here. There was so much to do—far more than she'd expected. Enzo hadn't been lying about that part.

She'd spent yesterday exploring the facility: lounging by the pool that shimmered with crystal-clear water, testing out futuristic gadgets that looked like they came straight out of a sci-fi movie, and even sneaking a few minutes on the PS5 in the entertainment lounge. It was like a dreamland for anyone with a love for tech and adventure.

And then there was the gym.

Donna made her way there now, curiosity tugging at her. She'd heard someone mention Enzo was working out this morning, which was surprising in itself. He'd never been one to hit the gym seriously—not like Diego or Attius.

The gym was enormous, its walls lined with high-tech equipment that looked more like advanced machinery than traditional weights and treadmills. The smell of metal and faint sweat hung in the air, and the low thrum of music played in the background.

And there he was.

Enzo stood near the bench press, gripping a barbell stacked with more weight than she thought he could handle. His muscles strained as he lifted it with perfect control, his form surprisingly solid. But that wasn't what caught Donna's attention.

It was his face.

Something was different. He wasn't wearing his glasses.

Donna froze in the doorway, watching him. Her brother had always needed glasses—he couldn't see much of anything without them. Yet here he was, moving confidently, his eyes sharp and focused as he shifted from one exercise to the next.

Her mind raced. Was it true, then? The stories Enzo had hinted at but never explained fully? That awakening their hybrid powers could enhance their abilities?

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe as she watched him. "Show-off," she muttered under her breath, but there was no malice in her tone.

Enzo finished his set and turned, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel. When he spotted her, a grin spread across his face. "Morning, Donna."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Morning. What's with you?"

He raised an eyebrow, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

Donna gestured vaguely at his face. "You're not wearing your glasses. You always wear your glasses. You can't see without them."

Enzo shrugged, though the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth told her he was enjoying this. "Guess I don't need them anymore."

"That's it? That's all you're gonna say?"

He smirked. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Donna rolled her eyes, but her curiosity only deepened. She wasn't sure how she felt about all of this. The powers, the changes, the strange place they now found themselves in—it was all too much to wrap her head around.

But as she watched Enzo pick up the weights again, lifting them with ease, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of something else.

Hope.

Donna stared at the barbell in her hands, the one Enzo had been lifting just moments ago. She hadn't planned on trying it—it wasn't her thing, really—but something about watching Enzo so effortlessly handle the weights sparked a surge of determination in her.

If he could do it, why couldn't she?

With a quick glance at Enzo, who was busy adjusting another set of weights, Donna reached down and grabbed the barbell. She braced herself, expecting it to feel impossibly heavy, but as she lifted, her brow furrowed in confusion.

It didn't weigh anything.

It was light .

She held it above her head, blinking in disbelief. "What the—"

Enzo turned at the sound of the barbell clattering to the floor. He arched an eyebrow as Donna marched over to the dumbbell rack, a mix of confusion and exhilaration coursing through her veins.

She reached for a 45kg dumbbell—Enzo's weight of choice—and hoisted it off the rack with one hand. It was... nothing. Effortless. Like picking up a loaf of bread.

Donna stared at the dumbbell in her hand, her heartbeat quickening. Her body felt strange—lighter, stronger, as if an electric current buzzed beneath her skin.

"Donna," Enzo's voice cut through her thoughts, steady but sharp.

She looked up to see him standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowing slightly.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone less casual than before.

Donna nodded, though her voice betrayed her uncertainty. "Yeah... I just... feel weird."

Enzo sighed, dropping the towel over his shoulder as he approached her. "Weird how?"

"I don't know. Like… my body isn't mine. Like something's different."

Enzo's gaze sharpened, and he nodded knowingly. "That's because it is. You're stronger now. You've started to awaken."

Donna blinked. "Awaken? HOW—"

Enzo cut her off, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her toward the far side of the gym. "If you're awakening, you need to learn control but even I don't know. Come on."

"Control?" Donna stumbled after him. "Enzo, what are you talking about?"

"You'll see."

Donna followed Enzo through the sleek double doors, the quiet hum of the gym fading behind her. She didn't know what she had expected on the other side—maybe a standard training room with mats and punching bags. But as the doors slid open with a soft hiss, she froze.

The room was massive, stretching farther than her eyes could follow. A faint golden glow from overhead lights illuminated rows upon rows of weapons, neatly displayed on black steel racks and hanging elegantly on the walls. The air inside was cool, carrying the faint metallic tang of steel mixed with something older, something ancient.

Her eyes widened as she stepped inside, her boots clicking softly against the polished floor.

The walls were lined with swords of every kind imaginable: curved blades that shimmered with an almost mystical light, straight longswords with intricately engraved hilts, and massive greatswords that looked too heavy for any human to wield. Each weapon seemed to tell a story, their surfaces marked with battle scars, chips, and faded engravings. Some were polished to a mirror finish, while others carried the dull, menacing glow of age-old craftsmanship.

Above her, on high racks, hung daggers of every size and shape, their gleaming edges catching the light. Some were simple, their designs utilitarian, while others had hilts encrusted with gemstones, their blades etched with strange runes that seemed to pulse faintly.

On another wall, an array of staffs and spears stood proudly. The spears ranged from slender javelins to thick, menacing polearms, their shafts adorned with ornate carvings. A few of the staffs glimmered faintly, as though infused with dormant magic, their tips capped with glowing crystals that bathed the nearby weapons in a soft, eerie light.

Her gaze moved to the center of the room, where a display case stood. Inside it rested chains and flails, their heavy, spiked ends hanging ominously. The chains were blackened and thick, coiled neatly like sleeping serpents. One flail had an end shaped like a jagged star, its edges glinting dangerously even in the subdued light.

"This… this is insane," Donna whispered, her voice barely audible.

Enzo smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Welcome to the arsenal."

She walked deeper into the room, her footsteps slowing as she passed racks of bows with intricately carved limbs and quivers full of sleek black arrows. Some of the bows were simple, their designs precise and functional, but others were works of art, adorned with silver inlays and inscriptions in languages she couldn't understand.

Her hand brushed against a rack of daggers, and she paused, lifting one carefully. It was cold to the touch, its blade light but perfectly balanced. The hilt was wrapped in smooth leather, with a small emerald embedded at its base.

"Careful with that," Enzo said, walking past her to grab something from another wall. "Some of these are sharper than you think."

Donna set the dagger back in its place, her fingers lingering on the hilt for a moment before turning to face him. "How… how did all of this get here?"

"The organization's been collecting for centuries," Enzo replied, his tone casual as he pulled a wooden sword from a nearby rack. "Most of this is stuff they've confiscated or recovered. They don't even know where half of it came from."

Donna's gaze fell on a pair of massive battle-axes mounted on the wall, their edges gleaming like they had just been sharpened. "And they just… let you use these?"

Enzo chuckled, tossing her a wooden sword. She caught it instinctively, the lightness of it almost disappointing compared to the weight of the real weapons. "Not exactly. But we're not starting with the real thing. You'd probably chop off your own foot."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Donna muttered, rolling her eyes.

Enzo walked to the center of the room, motioning for her to follow. "Trust me, you'll thank me later. This isn't just about swinging a sword around—it's about control. Balance. You're stronger now, and if you don't learn how to handle that strength, you're going to hurt yourself. Or worse."

Donna hesitated, glancing at the weapons around her again. The wooden sword in her hand felt almost laughable in comparison. "So, what's the plan? You're just going to teach me how to sword fight?"

Enzo smirked, positioning himself in a defensive stance. "Something like that. First lesson: don't overthink. Just move."

Donna mirrored his stance, gripping the wooden sword tightly. She swung at him, testing the waters, but he sidestepped effortlessly, his own sword tapping hers lightly out of the way.

"Too stiff," he said. "Loosen up. And don't look at the sword—look at me. Watch my shoulders."

She swung again, this time faster. He blocked her easily, stepping back.

"No, no, no. Foot to the left when you swing," he said, his voice sharp but calm. "Your balance is off."

Donna adjusted her footing, feeling the awkwardness of the new position, and swung again. Their swords clashed, the wooden blades echoing in the quiet room.

"Better," Enzo said. "Again."

They moved across the room, the clack of their swords growing louder as Donna found her rhythm. Each time she swung, Enzo corrected her, his voice steady and precise.

"Good. Now faster."

"Don't hesitate. Commit to the swing."

"Block! Step back! Now forward—good!"

Donna's muscles burned, sweat dripping down her forehead, but she felt alive. Each strike, each block, brought a strange sense of clarity, as though her body was waking up to a strength she hadn't known she possessed.

Finally, Enzo stepped back, lowering his sword. "Not bad," he said, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Donna lowered her sword, panting slightly. "Not bad? I practically kicked your ass."

Enzo laughed, shaking his head. "You wish. But you're getting there."

She glanced around the room again, her eyes lingering on the gleaming weapons hanging on the walls. For the first time, the sight didn't intimidate her—it excited her.

Enzo's grin widened as he gestured to the weapons around them. "Pick something real. It's time to see what you can do."