Part 1 - Traces
The smell.
That was the first thing he noticed when he woke up.
Not the metallic, viscous scent of the alley. Not death's warm breath. It was something else. Familiar.
Jasmine perfume.
He opened his eyes slowly, the brightness of the white hospital ceiling spilling over his retina like a silent blade. The air conditioning blew a breeze too gentle to be real. Clean sheets. A steady beep signaling that his heart was still there, still fighting.
For a moment, he thought he had died. That it had all been a feverish hallucination.
But then he saw the backpack in the corner. Olivia's jacket thrown over the armchair. The half-full glass of water with lipstick stains.
She'd been there.
He sat up slowly, and the pain came immediately. Not intense — but widespread, like his body was still trying to understand what it had survived.
I killed someone.
The memory returned in fragments.
The daggers.
The cuts.
Calil's eyes begging not to die.
The hot taste of a strange energy flowing into him. Something that wasn't his. Something that... screamed.
Thomas brought his hand to his chest.
His heart was beating strong, but something inside echoed.
A dense silence. As if something else lived there now.
The door opened. He looked.
Olivia walked in, her eyes puffy from sleep, hair tied back messily, but with the same tired glow that made him feel at home.
Gabi, their daughter, stood beside her, wearing the confused look of a child sensing something isn't right.
Olivia froze at the door when she saw him awake.
And ran.
— Thomas! — she whispered, hugging him gently, as if he were glass about to shatter. — Oh my God, my love... you're alive...
He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the warmth, the touch, the scent.
— I'm here, — he said, voice still hoarse. — I'm here...
She pulled back slightly, her eyes brimming with tears.
— What happened to you? What was that, Thomas?
He hesitated.
His hand trembled on the bedsheet. His eyes searched for answers where only chaos lived.
— I... I don't know how to explain. I saw two men fighting against something… a giant creature. And then... they killed each other. One of them saw me. And… he…
His breath caught.
— He tried to kill me, Olivia.
— Oh my God...
— I tried to run, but... I couldn't. And suddenly, I... I did something. Something I didn't understand. I just felt anger. And…
The door opened again.
A tall man entered, light brown skin, shaved head, and a dark trench coat. His steps were calm.
His eyes were sharp as blades.
Olivia turned immediately, tense.
— Hector.
Thomas's eyes widened.
— You know him?
— He's the one who found you in the alley, — Olivia explained. — He brought you to the hospital. Said he found you bleeding and called emergency. But...
She looked at Hector with suspicion.
— He knows more than he lets on.
Hector raised his hands in a gesture of peace.
— I just want to talk. I can speak in front of her, if you want, Thomas. But… the problem is Gabrielle.
— What about Gabi? — Thomas asked.
— What we're going to talk about… is not something children should hear. And if you want to keep your daughter's sanity intact, it'd be better if we spoke alone.
Olivia narrowed her eyes. Her body tensed. But there was something about Hector's presence... something that made it feel like he wasn't just some stranger.
— If you hurt him in any way, Hector… — Olivia said in a low tone. — I swear on everything sacred...
— I didn't come to hurt him, — Hector replied with cold calm. — Just to talk.
Thomas touched Olivia's arm.
— It's okay. I'll listen.
She nodded, reluctantly. Before leaving, she stared at Hector with a gaze that was almost a sentence.
The door closed.
Silence fell like a veil.
Hector approached the window, pulled a chair, and sat down calmly.
— So… do you remember everything?
Thomas nodded.
— I saw those two guys fighting that creature… I saw one of them die… and then… I…
— You absorbed his Ayvu… — Hector completed, not blinking. — Like an ancient demon. Or a desperate Yandu.
Thomas leaned back slightly.
— I don't know what happened. I've never done anything like that. I've never seen anything like that. I just… didn't want to die. I thought of my daughter. Of Olivia. I just wanted to survive.
— And you did, — said Hector, meeting his eyes. — And apparently... more than you should have.
The silence between them was thick.
Hector crossed his arms, observing Thomas with the calm of someone who had seen death so often, it had become part of the furniture. The room was still the same — white, clean, cold — but tension filled the air, as if something unseen coiled between the unsaid words.
— I want you to tell me exactly what happened, — said Hector finally. His voice was deep, but not aggressive. Like he was used to resistance.
Thomas took a deep breath. His chest ached. Not physically — it was something else. A weight. A residue.
— I heard noises, — he began, voice raspy. — I was coming back from the market, saw that thing, that... being. Two men were fighting it. It was too fast. Too strong. It wasn't human.
Hector nodded briefly, saying nothing.
— They killed it. But then one of them killed the other. Like they had been enemies from the start. I was hiding. Thought it would end there.
He lowered his gaze, staring at his fingertips.
— But the one who survived — I think his name was Calil — he saw me. Even half-dead. He... he came for me.
The air grew heavier.
— He started cutting me, — Thomas continued, voice shaking. — Slowly. Like he was playing. Torturing me. Said I knew too much to stay alive. I tried to run... but I couldn't. My body froze. I felt like the poison was burning me from the inside. He kept stabbing me. Legs, back, chest…
Hector didn't look away.
— And then?
Thomas looked at him. Eyes hollow, dim.
— I remembered my family. Olivia. Gabi. I didn't want to die there. Not like that. And… I don't know what happened. I screamed. I grabbed his arm. And something... came out of me. Or into me. I felt like… I absorbed him. His life. His energy.
Hector leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly — as if confirming something.
— And what did you feel? When you pulled that out of him?
Thomas hesitated.
— Pain. Panic. A rage that wasn't mine… but somehow was. And… after that… I knew. I knew how to use those daggers. As if I had always known. As if… something of his had transferred into me.
— You assimilated his life, — Hector murmured.
Thomas narrowed his eyes.
— Why do you want to know this? Who are you? And why do you sound like you already knew this would happen?
Hector stayed quiet for a moment. A dense silence, loaded with more than words.
— Because what you did there… — he finally said, in a low voice — wasn't supernatural. It wasn't magic. It was real. Tangible. Ancient.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, as if he were about to reveal a long-kept secret.
— And you just awakened something that some people spend their entire lives trying to reach. An energy that's existed for centuries. Maybe millennia. A force many have used — and still use — to hunt creatures like that one. The Yandus.
Thomas blinked, surprised.
Yandus.
The word sounded strange. Wild.
— But what are they? — he asked, almost whispering.
Hector stood up slowly.
— I'll explain everything. But you have to be ready. Because from now on, Thomas... nothing in your life will ever be normal again.
Part 2 - The Order of the Moon
Hector walked slowly to the hospital room window and opened the blinds slightly. The sunlight filtered in, casting an amber, almost aged hue across the room. For a moment, the silence hung between the two — not as a pause, but as part of the conversation. As if the silence itself had something to say.
— Thomas... have you ever heard of the Order of the Moon?
Thomas just shook his head, slowly.
— No... sounds like a cult.
Hector laughed. A short, dry sound.
— Yeah… it does. But it's not. It's an old organization. Much older than it seems. And no... we're not monks or a cult. — He turned back around, arms crossed. — The Order is an international network. It's been active for centuries. And today it receives subsidies from several governments, including Brazil's.
Thomas frowned.
— So... it's government?
— Partially. Officially, we're a nonprofit NGO. Our main work is dealing with Yandus. Identifying, containing, and, when necessary... eliminating.
Thomas sat up straighter in bed, still with effort.
— Eliminating?
Hector nodded.
— Yes. Creatures like the one you saw. And many others. They've existed for a long time, Thomas. They're real. Mutants, parasites, abominations... call them what you like. Some irrational, others more lucid than you or me. But all dangerous. Or... so we're told.
The atmosphere turned cold.
Hector took a few steps, pacing slowly through the room.
— Parts of Yandus are valuable. Extremely. Regenerative tissue. Bones with impossible physical properties. Toxins. Energy cores. — He glanced sideways at Thomas. — You saw Calil's daggers. Did you know the bone used in them goes for over twenty grand in private auctions?
Thomas's eyes widened.
— That's... legal?
— Legalized? No. Allowed? Depends. Ignored? Always.
He paused.
— Governments look the other way. They use the Order in exchange for favors. Partnerships. Weapons. War, Thomas... never really ended. It just changed its face. And now... it uses monster parts.
Thomas leaned back against the pillow, trying to process.
— But... what does that have to do with me?
Hector stopped beside the bed.
— Everything. Because now you're part of this too. Whether you want to be or not.
They fell into silence for a moment.
— From the moment you absorbed that man's Ayvu... and activated your own Vekatu... — he took a deep breath — you left a signature. Something other creatures will sense. And you know what the problem is?
Thomas didn't respond.
— Your wife and daughter carry that mark too. The energy signature spreads by touch, by scent, by bond. A sensitive Yandu could smell your daughter from miles away. Could know she's yours. That you exist. That you have something it can devour.
Thomas felt his chest tighten.
— No... no. That can't be real. I did this to them?
— Yes. It's real. It's inevitable. But it's not your fault…
— That doesn't matter! — Thomas snapped, feeling an unbearable weight of guilt.
Hector stepped closer and placed a folded card on the bedside table.
— What you did, Thomas, is rare. Many train for years... and never come close to accessing what you accessed.
— What are you trying to say? — Thomas asked, demanding clarity, seriousness in his gaze.
— ... that maybe you have a role in all of this. — Hector shrugged. — Or maybe not. But what is certain... is that now you're a target. And your family is too. So, no matter how much you want your old life back... it doesn't exist anymore.
Thomas stared at the card. His hands still trembled.
— And how do I fix this?
Hector walked to the door.
— Be patient.
He opened it, but paused before leaving.
— When you're ready, call me. If you want... I can train you. The Order has a recruitment process. But it's... complicated. And... — he hesitated — it has age limits. You're past the ideal profile. But with training, discipline, and a little luck... you might qualify for a higher-level role. With pay. With protection.
Thomas narrowed his eyes.
— Are you... offering me a job?
Hector smiled. For the first time, a genuine smile.
— I'm offering you a chance to keep your daughter alive.
And then he left, leaving only the distant beeping of the heart monitor — and the weight of the world sitting on Thomas's chest.
Thomas remained silent for long moments, staring at the card Hector had left on the table. The golden light of dusk spilled through the window, falling over the folded paper and making the embossed seal of the Order of the Moon glow with a faint, metallic shimmer.
In bed, Thomas's chest rose and fell slowly.
It was a lot.
The death.
The blood.
The power.
The threat.
And now... a proposal?
He slowly turned his body to the side, resting his elbow on the mattress. He was about to reach for the card, but before he could touch it, the door opened again.
Olivia.
— I heard everything, — she said, voice low.
There was no anger. No shock.
Only a deep understanding. Almost... frightening.
She walked over to the bed and stopped beside him, eyes locked on her husband's.
— I'm not going to ask if it's true, — she said after a moment. — Because I know it is. There's no such thing as "normal" for us anymore, is there?
Thomas pressed his lips together. His heart ached more now than when it had been pierced by daggers.
— I'm sorry. I... didn't want to drag you into this.
— I've been involved since the moment you first looked at me. — She sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand. — But listen to me, please.
Thomas looked at her intently.
— You don't have to sacrifice yourself for anyone, — she continued. — Not for me. Not for Gabi. You're not a weapon, Thomas. You're not a tool. You're the heart of our family. And I won't let this new world turn you into something else.
His throat tightened.
— I just... I can't let anything happen to you.
— I know. But promising to protect us doesn't mean you have to die trying. You understand?
Thomas nodded, slowly. He squeezed her hand tightly.
And in that silence, in that touch, he understood.
He was no longer fighting just to survive.
He was fighting for something bigger.
For love.
And also... for truth.
If Hector was telling the truth — and everything pointed to yes — then Thomas needed to know more. He needed to understand. He needed to prepare.
Because monsters were real.
And they were hunting.
And now... he was the target.
Part 3 - Traces of Awakening
Three days later... The hospital room was the same, but the light was different.
No monitors beeping. No sharp smell of alcohol. No doctors walking around.
Just the morning sun coming through the window.
Thomas was standing — for the first time.
His legs still ached, as if they remembered nearly being torn apart. His left arm throbbed, and the right side of his torso felt like it had been glued back together with hot resin.
But he was standing.
And that... was everything.
Olivia was asleep in the armchair nearby. Legs tucked in, face resting on a makeshift pillow.
Gabrielle wasn't there — she had gone to stay a few days with her grandmother.
Thomas took a deep breath.
Took one step.
Then another.
The silence was almost sacred.
He approached the counter, where a plastic cup, a bowl of sliced fruit, and a blue pen were arranged like part of an ordinary morning scene.
But normal... was something else now.
Thomas reached out. Touched the pen.
And something inside him… reacted.
It was subtle. Almost imperceptible.
A soft warmth rose through his palm, and a thin line of energy formed between his fingers and the object.
For a moment, the pen trembled.
Floated just over two centimeters off the surface.
And fell.
The sound was barely audible.
But the meaning… was deafening.
Thomas walked to the window.
Looked out at the world.
Cars. Pigeons. People. Life.
But now he saw beyond.
There was something behind the scenery.
Something in the shadows. In the alleys. In the underground.
Something that breathed.
Hunted.
Waited.
And he was part of it now.
His hand clenched into a fist by his side. His fists, tight with resolve.
His eyes, steady, didn't stray from the horizon.
The world had changed.
And so had he.