The cold fluorescent lights of the hospital buzzed softly overhead as midnight blanketed the sleeping city. In a quiet corner of the public hospital, nestled between long-forgotten patient records and silent monitors, something stirred. After twenty long years, Alex opened his eyes.
His crimson irises shimmered faintly as he blinked against the harsh light. Everything felt foreign. The stale scent of antiseptics. The subtle hum of machines. The weight of stillness that had endured two decades.
He tried to move but found his muscles slow, his body weak. He looked at his arms—slender, pale, but with a strength that defied their fragile appearance. He felt his heartbeat—not rapid, not panicked. Calm. Measured. Controlled.
He was alive.
A soft knock interrupted the silence as a nurse entered, oblivious to the change. When she saw Alex sitting upright, her tray crashed to the floor.
"Oh my God... you're awake!"
Her voice echoed down the hall, triggering alarms and a sudden rush of footsteps. Doctors, nurses, even janitors gathered. But amid the chaos, Alex said nothing. He was too busy piecing together time.
Twenty Years Earlier
Nathaniel Winchester, a once-famous monster hunter, had pulled Alex's broken body from the river. His three-year-old daughter, Elara, had stood on their small boat, eyes wide with worry as she watched her father dive into the icy water. They were hiding from the world—the kind that hunted monsters and the kind that hunted those who knew too much.
When Nathaniel saw the bullet wound in Alex's skull, he didn't hesitate. He took him to the local public hospital, demanded emergency surgery, and leaned on old contacts to keep things quiet. Alex had no records, no identity. But Nathaniel forged one—Alex, age 14, orphan, no surname. It was the best he could do.
The surgery took twelve hours. A team of stunned surgeons removed the bullet and stabilized Alex. But the damage was extensive. His mind, already extraordinary, clung to life with a tenacity no one understood. They called it a miracle. Nathaniel knew better.
With no records to trace, the government ended up footing the bill. Alex was officially a forgotten orphan—just how Nathaniel needed it.
The First Ten Years
Each year, on New Year's Day, Nathaniel and Elara visited. Nathaniel, gruff and weary, sat beside the bed and recounted tales of his youth:
"Vampires in Prague. Witches in Cairo. I once stared down a Wendigo in the Yukon. It blinked first."
He'd glance at Alex's unmoving form, then continue:
"Your body should've quit years ago. But you're still breathing. You've got something in you, kid. Something the world should be scared of."
Selene, always chipper despite her training, brought books, snacks, and endless chatter.
"I made two friends at school, Lucy and Ray. Lucy gave me this fairy tale book. I think you'd like it—it's kinda dark."
She left the book in the drawer.
"Dad's training is rough, but I can throw knives now! He says it's to protect myself, but I think he just likes making me run laps."
Together, they laughed, told stories, and celebrated birthdays and New Years with a boy who never responded.
Then, one day, they didn't return.
Ten More Years Passed
Only nurses came now. Machines beeped. Time marched on. The world changed—new governments, new organizations, wars whispered and forgotten. But Alex remained. His body healed. His brain, reconstructed by the serum he once created, slowly mended itself.
Present Day
After the initial shock of Alex's awakening, the hospital tried to assess him. But within days, he vanished.
He slipped into the night, moving like a shadow. His body was taller—1.85 meters, lean from decades without real food, but every step radiated strength. He looked like a man in his prime, his features more refined, more striking.
In a dimly-lit cyber café, he hacked into the banking system, created an anonymous account, and siphoned enough money to survive. Then he forged documents—realistic ones—based on the fake identity Nathaniel had given him.
He purchased a smartphone, a laptop, clothes, and vanished again.
Now, age 34 on paper, Alex wore the body of a man—but he was still catching up with time.
Back in his hospital room, beneath a dusty tablet, he found an envelope sealed in wax. The symbol on it—a thorn-wrapped cross—caught his attention. Inside were two letters.
From Nathaniel Winchester:
Alex,
If you're reading this… then you finally woke up.
I don't know how long it took, but knowing the fire in you, I always believed it would happen. You don't know us, but we know you. I pulled your body from the river twenty years ago. You were a breath away from death, bleeding from a hole in your head, but something inside you kept fighting. My name is Nathaniel Winchester. I'm a monster hunter—was, at least. I used to chase the shadows this world denies, but when they killed my wife, I left the hunt to protect my newborn daughter, Elara.
For ten years, we visited you. I told you stories of my youth, of creatures I fought—vampires, witches, beasts you can't imagine. I didn't know who you were, but I knew you were dangerous to someone. And anyone they want this badly must be someone special.
I left you in the care of this hospital, faked a name for you, and gave the system just enough to keep them from asking more. I couldn't do more, not without exposing you or my daughter. If the wrong people ever knew you were alive... well, maybe by the time you read this, they already do.
You're not alone, Alex. Even in silence, someone was rooting for you. The world is darker than ever, and I fear you'll walk into it alone—but maybe you were meant to.
Good luck, son.
—Nathaniel Winchester
From SELENE:
Hi Alex!
I don't know if you'll even read this… or if you even care. But I wanted to say goodbye properly. My name is Selene Winchester. I was three when we found you, and thirteen when we left. You were asleep the entire time, but I used to sit next to you and talk about school and training and life. My dad made me train every morning—knives, tracking, cryptid anatomy. He said the world doesn't wait for innocence. But even then, I always felt safe around you. You never woke up, but it was like you were still there, listening.
I told you about my first friend, Lucy, and how she gave me a book of fairy tales. I left it in the drawer by your bed. I hope it's still there. I wanted to believe in good things too.
Dad says we have to run. The bad people are sniffing too close. But if you ever find this letter, know that someone out there still thinks of you.
We'll be watching the skies and praying you stayed strong.
Maybe someday, we'll meet for real.
—Selene
Alex held the letter for a long time, his fingers trembling.
He wasn't alone after all.
The world didn't know he had returned. But soon… they would.