The Demigod's Reckoning

Chapter8: The Demigod's Reckoning

Chapter 8: The Intrusion

The golden morning sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of Zhariah’s room, creating soft patterns on the walls. The room smelled fresh, a mix of lavender soap and clean linen. Zhariah, or Zaya as her family called her, stood in front of her mirror, her towel wrapped tightly around her body and another turbaning her damp hair. She hummed softly, drying her locks while eyeing her desk, cluttered with half-written pages of her stories.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a bang.

“Eza!” Zaya exclaimed, clutching the edge of her towel. “You startled me!” She turned to see her little sister standing there, hugging a stuffed rabbit tightly to her chest.

“Sorry, Zaya,” Eza said in her tiny, innocent voice, her big brown eyes looking up apologetically.

“Next time, knock, sweetie,” Zaya said, her tone softening. She grabbed a brush from her vanity and began untangling her wet hair.

Eza tilted her head, her face serious in a way that was unusual for a child her age. “Is Mom going to be home late again?”

Zaya’s expression softened further, and she crouched to Eza’s level. “Don’t worry about Mom, okay? I’m here. I’ll take care of you, so don’t be scared.”

The little girl nodded but suddenly lit up with excitement. “Yesterday, I saw a prince!”

Zaya chuckled, standing up again. “A prince, huh? Like the ones in your fairy tales?” She turned back to the mirror, brushing her hair with rhythmic strokes.

“No, not like that,” Eza said, shaking her head. “He was real!”

Zaya paused, her brush hovering midair. The words made her stomach churn, an inexplicable unease creeping in. Turning around, she looked at her sister more seriously. “Wait… Are you saying this wasn’t a dream? You saw a real prince?”

Eza nodded vigorously. “He was here. At our house!”

Zaya’s fingers tightened around the brush. Her mind instantly went back to the previous day—to the expensive car, her mother standing with that strange man, and… him. The man with the cold, piercing gaze.

“Hold on a second,” Zaya said, leaning toward her sister. “Did this ‘prince’ come inside the house?”

Eza nodded again, smiling innocently. “Yes! He thought I was in trouble because I was screaming.”

Zaya’s heart skipped a beat. “Screaming? Why were you screaming, Eza?”

“I was playing!” the little girl said with a proud smile. “I was pretending to be in a scary movie.”

Zaya’s shoulders slumped in relief, but her confusion remained. She ruffled Eza’s hair gently. “Listen, sweetie, good guys knock before coming into someone’s house. So, next time, tell me if you see him again, okay?”

Eza nodded solemnly. “Okay, Zaya.”

“Good. Now, go play, and I’ll join you once I finish my book,” Zaya said, ushering her sister toward the door and blowing her a playful kiss.

Eza giggled and scampered away, leaving Zaya to close the door and lean against it with a sigh. She rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of her sister’s story.

Her thoughts spiraled back to the man she’d seen yesterday—the one with the unsettling presence. Was it just a coincidence, or was there something more to this “prince” Eza mentioned?

Before she could dwell on it further, she felt a shift in the air, a strange, electric sensation that made her skin prickle.

When she turned around, her breath hitched.

Standing in her room, tall and imposing, was a man in a black suit. A sleek mask covered most of his face, revealing only his sharp jawline and cold, piercing eyes. He stood still, his posture calm yet unnervingly confident.

Zaya froze. Her voice caught in her throat, and she couldn’t move—not even to scream. It was as if some invisible force had paralyzed her.

The silence stretched unbearably until the towel wrapped around her body slipped and fell to the floor.

Her gasp broke the spell, and heat flooded her cheeks as she quickly snatched the towel and held it against herself. The man, startled by the situation, averted his gaze and turned his back to her with surprising courtesy.

“W-who are you?” Zaya stammered, her voice shaking as she fumbled to secure the towel again. “If you’re here to rob us, take what you want! Just… just don’t come near me! And don't do such a scary thing!”

The man spoke, his voice deep and calm, laced with an unsettling nonchalance. “I’m not a thief. I came to talk to you.” He paused briefly, his tone softening. “I didn’t mean to frighten you... or see… that.”

Zaya felt her heart pounding in her chest. His tone seemed genuine, but there was something about him—something otherworldly and commanding—that set her on edge.

“Don’t come closer!” she warned, backing away toward the corner of the room. “I’ll call the cops, I swear!”

The man chuckled quietly, a cold sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Go ahead,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “It might be worth getting caught if it means seeing… that again.”

Zaya’s mouth dropped open in shock and indignation. “You’re disgusting!”

She lunged forward, aiming to slap him, but he caught her wrist with ease. His grip was firm yet surprisingly gentle.

“Calm down,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m not here to harm you.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Zaya felt herself being drawn into his gaze. His eyes weren’t just cold; they were deep, like twin voids that held centuries of secrets. Her anger faltered as an inexplicable heat blossomed in her chest.

“What do you want?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The man seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second, his grip on her wrist loosening. His eyes flickered with something unspoken before he straightened, his demeanor snapping back to its composed, detached state.

“That’s something we’ll discuss later,” he said cryptically, releasing her hand and stepping back.

Zaya blinked, suddenly aware of how close they had been. She pulled her towel tighter around her body, her mind racing with questions she didn’t dare ask.

The man adjusted his suit and turned toward the window. “You’ll know soon enough, and I'll come again to see you,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Her heart stopped. How did he know her?

Before she could demand answers, he opened the window with a single, fluid motion and disappeared into the morning light, leaving her standing there, stunned and breathless.

Zaya leaned against the wall, her legs trembling beneath her. The room felt empty and heavy all at once, and her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and something else—something she couldn’t quite name.

“Who are you?” she murmured to the empty room, her voice barely more than a whisper.

But deep down, she knew this encounter was only the beginning. And whatever answers this mysterious man held, they were bound to change her life forever.