Bring Me the Girl
Cleopatra’s POV
Darkness surrounded me.
It wasn’t the kind that simply came with sleep or shadows. No. This darkness was heavier—alive. Breathing. Watching. It stretched endlessly in every direction like the womb of something ancient and waiting.
I felt Jayden before I saw him—his laugh, light and innocent, echoing across the stillness. My chest instantly warmed with relief. Then the world shifted.
A lake materialized beneath my feet, glassy and calm, framed by tall trees and crowned by a pale, silver moon. The wind whispered across the surface, soft and strange, like it knew secrets it refused to share.
And there they were.
Jayden stood at the edge of the lake in a white shirt and soft cotton pants, the picture of childhood joy. His curls bounced as he turned to someone beside him—a little girl.
She was smaller than him. Maybe two. Maybe three. Her hair was a silvery white-blonde, flowing down her back in perfect waves. Her dress was delicate, almost ceremonial, like something handwoven by spirits.
But her eyes—
Gods, her eyes.
Violet.
Brilliant. Piercing. Just like in the infirmary.
Just like the vision.
I opened my mouth to call Jayden, but no sound left my throat. My voice had vanished like breath stolen in winter.
They stood together, side by side, facing the lake. The girl looked up at him and smiled.
That smile.
It was soft. Innocent. The kind that should come with giggles and daisy chains and lullabies. But beneath it, something shimmered. Something wrong.
Something cruel.
I stepped forward instinctively—but I couldn’t move. My legs didn’t respond. My feet felt fused to the earth, as though something unseen held me in place. I struggled, panic rising.
Then—
Without warning, the little girl reached out and shoved Jayden.
Hard.
He stumbled forward, his arms windmilling as he tried to catch himself—but the slope was too steep, too slick. He fell.
Straight into the lake.
A splash echoed across the clearing. Water surged. Then silence.
“Jayden!” I screamed, or tried to, but again—no sound. My throat burned with the effort.
He surfaced once. His eyes wide. His mouth open. Gasping. Reaching.
He was drowning.
“Jayden!” I tried again. Still nothing. My arms thrashed at my sides, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t save him. I could only watch.
His small body fought the water, churning, twisting, struggling against something unseen pulling him down.
The little girl just stood there.
Watching.
Her violet eyes glowed like twin torches in the dark. Her expression unreadable. Not angry. Not delighted. Just... still. Unapologetic. Indifferent.
Tears blurred my vision.
I roared again, willing my limbs to obey, but they wouldn’t. My feet were stone. My fingers numb. My heart shattered with every second he slipped beneath the surface.
His voice came next, small and terrified.
“Mama! Help me!”
Gods, no.
“No!” I choked, trying to scream through a throat that refused to open. My body jerked, but the invisible chains held fast.
Then everything shifted.
The lake went still again—eerily still—until blackness swallowed the world whole. The girl’s form melted into the void. Jayden vanished.
And I was alone.
Utterly.
Then I heard it.
A voice—neither male nor female. Just wrong. A voice that slithered through the darkness like oil.
"Bring me the girl… or your son dies."
It wasn’t a whisper.
It was a command.
The darkness pulsed around me, and I screamed—this time the sound finally erupted from my lungs.
I bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath.
My body was soaked in sweat. My heart hammered in my ribs like it wanted to escape my chest. I clutched at the sheets, trying to remember where I was—when I was.
Moonlight filtered through the curtains.
Our bedroom.
Safe. Warm. Real.
My eyes darted immediately to the bed.
Williams lay on his side, one arm curled protectively around Jayden’s tiny body. Our son slept with his face buried in his father’s chest, his hand gripping the fabric of his father’s shirt. His breathing was soft, rhythmic.
He was okay.
He was alive.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, choking back a sob as I slipped off the bed and sank to my knees beside it.
I needed to see him. Needed to touch him.
My fingers trembled as I brushed his curls from his forehead, pressing a kiss there so gently I barely made contact.
“Thank the Moon,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.
Williams stirred slightly but didn’t wake. His protective instincts had kicked in even in sleep. I could see it in the way his body curved around our son, how his hand flexed slightly as I got closer.
I rested my head on the edge of the mattress and let myself breathe. Just for a second.
But peace didn’t come.
Because it hadn’t been just a dream. I knew that. I felt that.
The voice. The lake. The girl.
Her smile.
Gods, her smile.
There had been something inhuman about it. Not in her shape or her skin, but in her intent. Like she knew what she was doing. Like she had been waiting for me to see.
Warning me.
Or threatening me.
I stood slowly, walking to the window, needing the cold glass against my forehead. Outside, the night stretched across the sky like a shroud. No movement. No sounds. Just stars and wind.
But I didn’t feel calm.
My thoughts spun, tangling into panic.
This wasn’t just fear. I’d had nightmares before. Visions. Premonitions.
This was different
This was familiar.
The lake.
I’d seen it before—years ago, in one of my earliest visions. The same body of water. The same moon. The same child.
But back then, the vision had ended with fire, not water. The lake had boiled. The trees had burned. And in the distance, a kingdom fell.
I never understood what it meant—until now.
Until her.
That girl.
Renée’s daughter.
The violet-eyed child with a soul too old for her skin.
Why is she in my visions after all these years?
Am I just being paranoid?
And why—why—did the darkness want me to bring her?
I crossed the room again and sat at the edge of the bed, watching my son sleep. My hands shook as I reached out, pulling the blanket a little higher over his small body.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I whispered. “I swear it. No matter what it costs.”
Because some part of me knew—
That voice wasn’t done.
That dream wasn’t finished.
And the lake hadn’t claimed my son… yet.
I looked at Williams again, his brow furrowed even in rest. I’d tell him. Not now—he needed the sleep. But soon.
He needed to know everything I saw.
We need to do something. Fast.
Because even if it sounded insane, even if it sounded like a mother unraveling under the weight of fear, there was something deeper in that dream. A seed of truth wrapped in the skin of horror.
A prophecy whispered in darkness.
One I couldn’t ignore.
I slid under the covers again and pulled Jayden into my arms, holding him close. He shifted, murmuring something unintelligible, and nuzzled into my shoulder.
He didn’t know.
He shouldn't know.
That something was watching.
Waiting.
Plotting.
And I couldn’t protect him if I didn’t understand what was coming.
My buried magic had stirred the moment that child opened her eyes.
My soul had remembered something my mind refused to recall.
And now the nightmares had returned, not to haunt me—but to warn me.
Bring me the girl… or your son dies.
I clenched my jaw and buried my face in Jayden’s hair.
Not my son.
Not ever.
But, I can’t hand over Alex and Renee’s child too. They are family.
If the darkness wanted war, it would get one.
But first, I had to find out who—what—all this meant.
And why the universe had decided to use my child as the price for their cause.
Because it wasn’t just a dream.
It wasn’t just a fear.
It was a warning.
And I had to listen. Somehow.
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