Chapter 6: Breaking Point
Aria jolted awake, heart already racing like it had never stopped beating from some forgotten nightmare. Her breath came fast, damp hair clinging to her forehead. The rain outside was still going, soft now, more like static against the glass than an actual storm.
Her apartment smelled like damp earth and charged air — like the ground right before lightning hits.
She sat up slowly, wincing. Her limbs were stiff, like she'd slept with tension coiled too tight. She looked toward the window.
The flowers were different.
The four glowing red blossoms — the ones that had pulsed gently for weeks, always four, no more — had changed.
There were six now.
Two new petals had unfurled overnight. Quietly. Without warning.
She blinked, breath catching. The fifth looked newer, less confident in its shape, but the sixth… The sixth pulsed stronger than the others. Brighter. And underneath that red light, the glass of the window had started to fog.
She moved closer, barefoot on the cold floor. The window fog wasn't condensation — it moved too slow, like it was breathing. A haze from the other side. From whatever those flowers were tethered to.
Her eyes drifted down to the cracked mirror on the wall across from her.
The crack had widened again. It looked deeper now. Not just fractured — hollowed out. Like something had carved into it from the inside.
She reached out without thinking, fingers brushing the nearest flower. The pulse beneath her skin surged like electricity.
A whisper tickled her ear. Not a sound. Just a pressure in her bones.
Bloom.
She ripped her hand back like it burned.
Her phone buzzed, the vibration a violent shock in the quiet room.
Jules: Still feeling it?
Aria: Worse. Two more petals bloomed. It's changing again.
Jules: Meet at the market. Let's see if anyone else's reacting. Niko's already there.
She hesitated, then typed:
Aria: On my way.
She didn't bother changing. She grabbed her jacket, yanked on her boots, and left the apartment without looking back — the soft glow of six petals behind her casting sharp red shadows across the room.
By the afternoon, the market was buzzing — but not in the usual way. The energy was off. People moved like they were underwater, eyes unfocused, conversations quieter, nervous. Like the whole place was glitching and everyone could feel it, but no one wanted to say it out loud.
Aria walked slowly between stalls, scanning faces, watching the way people moved. She couldn't explain what she was looking for. A pattern maybe. Something off that matched what she was feeling inside.
She passed a fruit stand. The peaches were stacked in messy pyramids, skins dappled with light from the flickering overheads. She reached out to touch one, not really thinking, just needing to feel something grounded.
But it wasn't right.
Her fingers brushed the skin — and felt something shift.
Tiny threads beneath the surface moved. Not in the air. Inside the fruit. A shiver ran through her hand, up her arm.
She yanked her hand back instantly, like it had bitten her.
The vendor gave her a side - eye. "You okay?"
She forced a quick smile. "Yeah. Just… startled myself."
He looked her up and down like he didn't buy it but didn't care enough to say more. "Peaches aren't cursed, you know."
She gave a dry laugh, already backing away. "Hope not."
She kept walking, trying to ignore the crawling sensation still clinging to her skin. Everything around her felt off — too still, too tense. Even the usual rhythm of vendors shouting and kids running between legs was muted.
Then a scream shattered the quiet.
It came from the center of the market — near the old stone fountain. Everyone's heads snapped up at once. The sound wasn't just fear — it was pain, and something worse: knowing.
Aria was already moving before she realized it.
A woman was on the ground, her body jerking unnaturally, like strings were pulling her from the inside. Her legs kicked once, then twisted, folding in ways that didn't make sense. She gasped, her throat constricting around something she couldn't cough up.
Aria froze as the woman's head snapped back. Her eyes flew open — not wide, but impossibly black. Liquid black. No whites. Just void.
Aria took a step closer, breath locking in her chest.
The woman's gaze landed on her. Didn't move.
That stare was suffocating. Like being seen and swallowed at the same time.
Someone behind Aria gasped. "Is she… having a seizure?"
"She's possessed," someone else muttered, backing away. "I'm telling you. That's not normal."
The woman opened her mouth.
Blood spilled out.
Not a spray — a stream. Thick and slow, running down her chin, pooling on her shirt.
A child screamed. Vendors dropped crates, apples rolling across the concrete. Someone shouted for a medic.
Still, the woman stared at Aria.
Then, she whispered something. Barely audible. Just a scrape of sound against the chaos.
"Bloom."
Aria staggered back like the word had struck her.
And then the woman collapsed fully, her body going limp, arms splayed at unnatural angles, blood still leaking from her mouth.
People swarmed, but kept their distance. Phones came out. A man crouched and touched her wrist, then quickly stood, shaking his head.
"She's gone."
Aria's fingers dug into her jacket, anchoring herself. The edges of the market blurred. The sky felt too low. Her phone buzzed again.
Jules: Get out of there. Something's spreading. You feel it, right?
Aria: I was there. I saw it. She looked at me. Said Bloom.
Jules: Damn. Go. Now. Don't go straight home. I'll send a pin. Head north.
Aria didn't answer. She was already moving.
Her legs burned like fire, every muscle screaming in protest, but Aria didn't slow down. The rain hammered down around her, relentless and cold, soaking her jacket through to her skin, drenching her hair until droplets slid down her face and neck. Her sneakers squelched against the wet pavement, water pooling inside them, but she didn't care.
She couldn't stop now.
Stopping wasn't an option.
Something was waking up — in the city, in the people, in her. Six petals didn't just mean danger.
It meant the countdown had started.
The city felt strange tonight, as if it had shifted subtly while she wasn't looking. The usual bustle had drained away; the streets were nearly empty, slick with rain and faintly shining under the sputtering streetlights. Shadows stretched and flickered against the concrete walls, and the wind carried a sharp bite that stung through her soaked clothes. People moved past her with heads down, hurrying inside cars or rushing to wherever they thought would keep them safe and warm. No one made eye contact. Everyone seemed like they were trying to disappear.
Her backpack thumped heavily against her back with every step — the weight a reminder of everything she wasn't ready to lose. Notebooks filled with messy sketches of that impossible crimson bloom that haunted her thoughts. The backup phone she'd turned on after the last one died mysteriously. A few old keys she didn't even remember what they unlocked. And her oldest, most precious possession — a worn, dog - eared sketchbook she'd carried for years, pages yellowed and edges frayed.
None of it mattered anymore. Not really. But she wasn't ready to throw it all away. Not yet.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, misting in the cold night air. Her heartbeat hammered like a drum in her ears — loud, fast, frantic. She barely noticed the rain soaking through her clothes and chilling her skin to the bone. She only knew she had to get home. She had to find Piper.
The little black cat. Dominic's cat. She'd promised to take care of her until he was ready to come back, but the past few days had spiraled out of control, and Aria had almost forgotten. Now, it was the only thing grounding her. The one thing she had left that mattered.
The building loomed ahead — familiar and grimy, a squat concrete block wrapped in cracked sidewalks and rusty chain-link fences. It looked tired, like it had seen better days decades ago, but it was still home. She pushed through the heavy glass doors, the cold, stale air of the lobby hitting her like a wave. The flickering fluorescent light overhead made the peeling paint and cracked tile look worse, casting shaky shadows that crawled across the walls.
No one was there. No security guard. No neighbors. Nothing but the silence, broken only by the sound of her own breathing and the drip - drip - drip of water falling from her soaked hair onto the floor.
She didn't expect to find anyone. Not tonight.
She sprinted up the stairs, two at a time, adrenaline dulling the ache in her legs. The elevator was almost certainly broken — as it always was. The stairwell smelled of damp concrete and mildew, and her shoes squeaked against the wet steps.
Her apartment door was cracked open. The lock was busted, shattered — obviously forced.
Her breath hitched and her heart stopped for a fraction of a second.
"Piper?" she whispered, voice trembling.
No answer.
The silence swallowed her words. The cold quiet made her skin crawl.
She stepped inside carefully, clutching her phone like a lifeline. The apartment was cold and dark, smelling damp and stale — like something had been left to rot. Rainwater dripped from a corner near the window, splashing quietly onto the faded carpet, leaving dark, sticky stains.
The scratching came next — soft, hesitant, almost scared.
She followed the noise, every step cautious, every sense alert, until she reached her bedroom.
There, perched on the windowsill, was Piper. The little black cat's green eyes were wide with fright, her fur wet and matted against her thin frame.
Relief washed over Aria like a wave. She crouched down slowly, careful not to startle the trembling animal.
"Hey, baby," she whispered, voice soft and soothing. "It's okay. I'm here."
Her hand reached out, fingers gentle as they stroked Piper's slick fur. The cat's heart beat fast under her palm — a tiny, frantic drum — but she didn't try to escape.
A sudden noise from the living room made Aria freeze. A slow scrape echoed through the quiet space, like metal dragging against the floor.
She whipped her head around.
There, framed by the dim glow from the hallway, stood a woman. Tall and slender, wrapped in a soaked leather jacket that gleamed wetly. Her hair was cropped short, silver - blonde like strands of moonlight, and her eyes were sharp — a piercing forest green that seemed to cut through the gloom.
Aria froze, clutching Piper tightly to her chest.
"Who are you?" Her voice cracked with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
The woman didn't flinch or blink.
"Selene," she said simply, calm and matter - of - fact.
Aria swallowed hard, scanning the stranger's face for any sign of threat, mercy, or truth.
"I'm here because you're in danger."
Aria's heart jumped, thudding painfully in her chest.
"Danger? What kind of danger? What are you talking about?"
Selene took a slow, measured step forward, eyes locked on Aria.
"The bloom inside you — it's waking up," she said softly, almost like a warning. "You don't understand what that means yet, but others do. They're hunting you."
Aria's fingers clenched tighter around Piper, whose green eyes flicked nervously between the two women.
"I don't get it," Aria whispered, voice shaky. "What bloom? Hunting me? This sounds insane."
Selene's gaze didn't waver.
"It's not insane. It's real. And it's only going to get worse if you stay here."
Aria's eyes darted around the apartment — the place she'd thought could still be her safe haven — but it no longer felt safe. Not with someone else in the shadows, and not with those words ringing in her head.
"Why should I trust you?" Her voice shook, barely above a whisper.
Selene's lips pressed together for a moment, then softened.
"Because I saved you once," she said quietly. "And I'll do it again if I have to."
The silence between them thickened, heavy with unspoken fears.
Aria felt trapped, caught between disbelief and desperate hope. She didn't know what to believe anymore. The weight of everything — the bloom, the danger, the strange new reality — pressed down on her.
Finally, she let out a shaky breath.
"Okay," she said. "What do I do?"
Selene nodded once, sharp and deliberate.
"Come with me," she said. "There's a place you need to see. A place where you'll start to understand what's happening to you."
Aria looked down at Piper, curled up against her chest. The cat let out a soft, encouraging meow.
Taking a shaky breath, Aria squared her shoulders.
"All right," she said. "Let's go."
Selene stepped aside with a faint smile, motioning for Aria to pass.
Together, they stepped out into the cold rain, the city lights blurring in the wet night.
Aria's mind was a whirlwind of questions and fears. What was this "bloom" inside her? What did it mean that it was waking up? Why did she feel like something inside her was splintering apart?
As they walked, Selene broke the silence.
"You don't have to do this alone," she said quietly.
Aria shook her head. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
Selene's eyes softened.
"You will," she promised. "But first, you have to face what's coming."
Aria swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words settle over her like the rain soaking through her jacket.
"We're not going back," Selene said, glancing over her shoulder at the dark city around them.
Aria shivered, cold settling deep in her bones.
"No. We're not."
The chill seeped deeper, but something else stirred inside her — something dark, raw, and unyielding.