The barn was cold, but the small fire in the stone fireplace offered a fragile comfort. Caitlin Paine, barely eighteen, leaned against a bale of hay, the quiet crackle of burning wood a welcome sound after weeks of chaos. Outside, the March snow continued its relentless fall, mirroring the upheaval in her life.

Across from her, Caleb, still and serene, slept. His pale, chiseled features seemed sculpted, a stark reminder of his 3,000-year existence. She, already feeling ancient at eighteen, watched him, a strange peace settling over her. He was why she was here, why she felt safe. He had saved her, risked everything. And she, in turn, felt an overwhelming desire to protect him.

Her journal lay open on her lap, a pen in one hand, a glass of red wine in the other. She hadn’t been able to write since the world had tilted on its axis. The events of the last few days were too raw, too unbelievable. But now, in the quiet sanctuary of the barn, with Caleb’s silent presence, she felt an urgent need to process it all. To begin at the beginning. To understand what she had become.