Draven’s Short Story – “Winter Solstice”

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Hey, Strangers!

If you’re new to the Strangers universe, welcome! Draven is the antagonist of Book One, Strangers in Our Heads. So, this will solely be an introduction to him and his prequel, and if you feel so inclined, you can check out the book afterward.😊 It’s available right here on my website or anywhere books are sold online, and it’s also free on KU. Book Two, Strangers in Our Hearts, is also available.

And if you’re not new to the Strangers world, thank you so much for already reading! I hope this extra content gives you more insight into Draven and why he’s the way he is.

I appreciate all of the support. Your love for all the characters has filled my heart.

One small request is to leave a review if you can! Amazon, Goodreads, Storygraph, anywhere and everywhere your heart desires. Reviews help boost visibility so much for authors.

Also, feel free to reach out and let me know your thoughts on the short story, too! I love hearing reader feedback. ❤

But for now, I hope you enjoy… “Winter Solstice.”


Before

“Draven! Over here.”

My heart hammers as I turn around and catch golden blonde hair blowing in the wind, highlighted by the moonlight. Her green eyes remain hidden in darkness, but a dazzling grin spreads across her lovely face.

Belinda.

She pats the crimson cushion next to her that’s nestled into the snow. “We saved you a seat.”

We.

My pulse stops thundering.

Belinda sits with three others—the oversized brute next to her is her husband, Calvin. He offers a nod before taking a sip from his flask as if allowing me to join them.

I stiffen, clenching my hands inside my blazer pockets, but force my fingers loose.

After last night, it takes everything in me not to pulverize him—literally.

Against my better judgment, I step through the opening of their protection circle. Once I’m in, one of the others, Hiram, I think, closes the salt ring behind me. The salt slowly travels to the hard ground, melting through the ice.

Belinda grabs my hand, giving it a tight squeeze, and my heart lurches all over again. Her fingers are freezing, as cold as the air swarming around us. I don’t want to let go, but I have to. If I don’t now, I never will.

She grins at me as if our argument never happened. Like I didn’t catch her and her moron lover dabbling with blood magic less than twenty-four hours ago.

I slip my hand from beneath hers, stuffing it back into my pocket.

A candle sits in front of Belinda, a branch before Calvin, a feather ruffling near Hiram, or whoever, and a chalice filled with what I presume is water sits beside the last member—some older woman I don’t ever remember meeting in the past year or so I’ve been here. She must be one of the Coven members living outside the town who only came in for tonight’s celebration.

Her eyes narrow in on me as if sensing I’m not someone—or something—to trust.

My focus darts to the ground, finding nothing but an empty space. So, I must be representing the spirit. The irony isn’t lost on me. I remind myself to breathe.

I’m not God, but I’m not the Devil either.

I’m not a demon, but I’m certainly no angel.

To be honest, I have no idea what I am.

I woke up already grown, like a good little boy who ate all my veggies or something. I appeared to be eighteen, maybe? Judging by the humans around me, at least.

The only problem is that I haven’t aged a day in my life. Life—if that’s what you want to call it. Really, who knows if I have one of those?

Oh, I guess another thing to know about me is the unbelievable power I have running through my veins: the ability to kill with the slightest touch, the capacity to drain the life out of anything. I can turn trees to ash or shrivel a human and watch them wilt.

I don’t, though—of course, I don’t.

Most of the time.

If Calvin gives me one more excuse, though, I might just do it.

I’m mainly comprised of threats, loud bark, and all that.

Just don’t cross me.

But of course, they do. Humans have some sort of God complex themselves, making them extremely insufferable. Why do they feel so entitled to dissect what they don’t understand? They don’t have the right to pick me apart because I’m not like them.

So sometimes, I have a bit of fun.

If you think me a monster, I’ll show you something worse.

Frustration grinds into me as my fingers itch to break—

Stilling myself, I take another steadying breath and offer the stranger a tight smile instead. Her wrinkled face remains grave, utterly unimpressed by my offer of peace.

I shrug it off, my gaze drifting toward Belinda again, finally tuning into her instructions.

She pauses, tilting her face toward the moon. “Winter Solstice is a moment of stillness when, briefly, you can be hopeful of the future. You wait out the long night, when inevitably, the sun will rise again, bringing warmth with it, and you begin to look forward to another year. Reflect on the past, leave your guilt and worries behind, and shake off old grievances. Then move on.” She lowers her chin, making eye contact with everyone in the circle, before closing her eyes to begin.

Belinda seems so serene now as if she’s not hungry for more power. Like she didn’t try convincing me that we could be together, forever, if only I’d vivisect myself and pour out anything hidden deep within.

Could we be together, though? Would it even work?

We sit silently, the bonfire logs popping in the distance. I close my eyes, blocking the flames’ reflection dancing on Belinda’s tranquil face.

Settling into the darkness, my mind drifts further and further away. I can’t discern the others breathing around me anymore, the cracking fire diminishing into nothing.

Silence… there’s only silence.

I’m supposed to lament over losses from this past year, moving past them to look forward to a better year. Give my thanks to the universe that I’m alive, but…

Am I?

Ignorance is bliss—that’s the saying, isn’t it? I have no memories, no idea who I was or where I came from.

But still, I drift.

Floating along this ridiculous place called Earth and living my life.

The word ABOMINATION painted in red on my bedroom door this morning flashes to mind. It’s nothing new, nearly a weekly occurrence around here.

I toss the thought aside, trying to quiet my mind again.

The silence is suddenly too much, too thick. Most of the time, I welcome it, but this is different. I don’t feel… right.

Something seems wrong.

My pulse pounds, and I don’t want to do this anymore.

I have to think of something to release: a fear or a worry. Something I can write down on a piece of paper to throw into the fire. Watch it burn, releasing my unwanted thoughts as the smoke drifts away.

But what do I ask for?

What do I wish to abolish?

The stranger’s narrowed eyes spark within the darkness, her judging gaze.

ABOMINATION.

No, that’s not it.

I wouldn’t wish to be different. I like who I am, thank you.

Shadows dance around me, blending me with the darkness whenever I summon. I can go unnoticed, become one with the night itself if I wish.

I’m unstoppable.

The most powerful being there ever was.

Sweat beads on the back of my neck, in contrast to the biting chill in the air. 

I open my eyes, letting the gloom go, and study the faces closest to me. An aching dread builds in my chest when I peek at Belinda, her long dark eyelashes brushing her pale cheek as she grins at the moon.

The road she’s heading down will lead to nowhere good, but she doesn’t believe me.

She doesn’t listen when I tell her she needs to stop.

What she’s doing is dangerous. It’s going to catch up to her.

The Coven of Firelite Grove isn’t like me. No one’s like me. Most are eclectic witches, using different energy sources, like fire, earth, water, and air. Others… wish to be stronger. They’ve added blood to the mix to become invincible—to gain the power to control nearly anything.

It’s nasty work. 

Yet, I’m different from them all simply because I am not human.

Some of the witches here understand me, though. I’m not entirely alone. Belinda was the first person who hadn’t tried to kill me, study me, or use me—until her latest request, at least. But it’s only because she wants us to stay together.

We could be equals.

Calvin… tolerates me at best.

Is that enough to try to share what I have with them? Something I don’t understand myself? If I do this, though, then at least she’d stop trying to figure it out herself.

She’d be safe… perhaps.

I don’t know.

This is all uncharted territory.

Do I even want them around forever? So far, it seems like I’m not dying anytime soon. Forever can be an annoyingly long time with Calvin of all people.

And what about their children?

Ugh.

I shake off the impending chill. Not the one coming from outside but the one from within. Trapped. I’d be trapped with them. Like we’re a family or some equally awful thing. I don’t need people. I—

Belinda’s voice shatters my spiraling. I blink a few times, focusing on the box in her small hands.

My eyes dart to hers, and how she studies me is almost my undoing.

She has two young kids—Alicia and Jenna or something. As much as I’d like to turn Calvin to ash, I wouldn’t want anything to do with those leaky creatures. But I can’t kill them either.

Can I?

No, probably not.

Though… for Belinda?

I mean, if she asked…

If she didn’t have so many Earthly connections…

It does make me hesitate just for a moment.

I’d consider burning the whole world down for her when she looks at me like this—as if there’s no one else on the entire planet.

But then again, she probably wouldn’t ask me to murder her children.

Right, so the point is moot.

I take my hands out of my pockets, wiping the sweat off on my pants as she pulls the lid off the box, revealing a silver necklace with a solid circle dangling from the chain. The moon glyph for ‘blood’ is stamped on it.

“Belinda—”

“I know what you’re going to say, but you’re wrong.” She shakes her head, already cutting off my concerns about her using blood magic again. “It has nothing to do with that. We—” she stops.

She only says we because she has to. He’s sitting right here, watching. Otherwise, she’d say I got this for you.

“It’s an apology for last night,” she breathes out finally. “I know I asked for too much from you. It wasn’t right. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you or something. I love you, Draven. I wouldn’t—”

Relief ebbs slowly, but it’s almost too good to be true. Is she finally understanding? Is she heeding my warning? Still, I reach out a hand to stop her from saying anything more. An emotion that sort of feels like guilt worms through me. I’m thinking about obliterating her family as she mentions things like love.

Do I love her? Is that what this infatuation is?

Would you murder for someone you love? I mean, probably, I guess.

That’s a good sign, isn’t it?

“I didn’t get you anything,” I say instead.

“That’s okay.” She waves a hand. “Take it anyway. You forgive me, though, right?” 

I study her unwavering gaze, the way she bites her bottom lip in a hopeful smile.

“You’ll stop?” I cut a glance at the others in the circle, not wanting to finish the sentence, but Belinda only bows her head, understanding.

“Bee,” I start, my voice low.

I don’t want to start round two right here, right now, but I will. She has to understand that blood magic will only destroy her in the end.

The power isn’t worth the cost.

No amount of power is worth losing her.

Even if forever seems a bit long.

She peeks up at me, a resolve dimming the fire in her eyes. “I’ll stop.” Her voice sounds promising. “Only if you take my gift and accept my apology.”

The relief is stronger now as I grab the necklace, dangling it in the air between us. “I’m not much of a necklace guy…” My lip twitches when Belinda’s mouth opens to protest. “I’m kidding. Thank you.”

Her face lights up when I slip the chain around my neck, tucking it beneath my shirt. The cold metal bites into my skin, and I repress a shudder a second before Belinda leans forward to brush a kiss against my cheek.

“No, thank you,” she whispers.

***

Further behind the Roberts’ house is a decorated lawn leading into the woods, where the festivities continue. Green and red ribbons, gold and silver bells, and swaths of mistletoe and holly are pinned to any available surface.

A giant bonfire rages in the center, flames licking the sky, near where our protection circle finally disbanded after saying our blessed be’s, and so may it be, and thanks and all that.

Rows upon rows of mini booths are set up, offering drinks, candles, and homemade gifts to exchange with loved ones to celebrate the sun’s rebirth.

There’s even a Yule log decorating station to entertain the younger ones.

I continue to wander in no particular direction, holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate even though it tastes like mud to me. I don’t know why humans insist on drinking this crap.

But it helps me keep up appearances for the coven members who live out of town.

So, I drink.

The blank piece of paper is tucked tightly in my fist. The others went to burn their pasts already, but I still don’t know what to write.

What ails me? What holds me back?

A glass shatters to my right, wrenching me back to the present. A roar of laughter bellows over a few angry shouts.

I’d know that sickening, deranged laugh anywhere.

It’s Calvin—drunk again.

The guy with him is much smaller, cowering a little as Calvin yells at the booth attendee for one reason or another, his words slurring together too much to figure out.

“That was my last one,” the booth worker bites out.

“Bullshit,” Calvin counterpoints.

A very compelling argument; gotta give him that.

“Is there a problem?” I ask when I’m mere feet away. Strange, I didn’t intend to make my way over, but here I am.

“Stay out of this,” Calvin grumbles, casting me a death glare as the guy with him vanishes between the trees.

“Is there a problem?” I ask again, this time pointedly to the shopkeeper.

He keeps his eyes downcast, unable or unwilling to look at me.

Great, so one of those, then.

“Do you need me to get rid of him?”

Please say yes. I’d love nothing more than an actual reason to do so.

“No,” the man grumbles as he rips his apron over his head, tossing it onto the makeshift counter. “We’re closed.”

I slide my hand along the wooden stand, moving closer to Calvin. Something pierces my skin, but I don’t give Calvin the satisfaction of looking away as he stares me down, eyes darkening with each step.

My hand aches a little. It must be a splinter.

“Run along.” I give him a grin that will send him over the edge.

Fight me, I dare you.

Calvin sizes me up, crossing his arms, but suddenly, he smirks. “Maybe I will. I’d stay and see what you’re willing to do now that Belinda isn’t around, but it looks like you’ve already lost a bit of blood.”

My eyebrows furrow as I stare down at my hand. Blood drips freely, staining the white snow beneath me; there’s a clean slice along the side of my palm.

So, not a splinter, then.

I glance back down the wooden counter and spot a small piece of glass sticking out between the boards, barely noticeable.

Whatever. 

It’s not the end of the world, but my heart skips a beat as I clench my bleeding fist into my jacket pocket. Now probably isn’t the best time to put my hands around his throat and squeeze.

“Next time.” I salute with my uninjured hand, brushing past him and his insufferable snickering.

When I’m far enough away, I use the snow to clean off the wound, which has already stopped bleeding. It still stings, but the cut isn’t that deep.

Bad timing is all.

I need something stronger than hot chocolate, though.

Making a pit stop at the booth full of candles, I light one for the longest night and borrow a pen. I quickly jot down the only thing that ails me: Loneliness. I don’t even know where I come from or how I came to be, let alone find someone else like me out there.

I’m destined to be alone; the sooner I accept that, the better. 

At least I wouldn’t have to deal with the likes of Calvin anymore, just for attention from Belinda. I can rid myself of any extra baggage and move on.

I hold the scrap of paper to the candle and let it burn.

After the ashes disappear with the wind, I make my way further into the woods.

***

Hushed whispers circle me, bouncing off the frozen tree trunks.

I pause, craning my neck to get a better listen, but I can’t make out the muffled voices.

I head toward where I think they’re coming from, an icy finger running up my spine when the branches clear and the scene unfolds before me.

Belinda is on her knees, a boulder in front of her with an array of objects set upon it. A chalice, a dagger, crystals, and what appear to be animal bones. Clean, old. Surrounding them are candles, flames flickering in the wind.

The ground has lost all its snow. Instead, she’s kneeling in a mud pit.

Her eyes flicker over to mine, and there’s no hint of the earlier fondness she had. She clicks her tongue, but so much malice is etched across her face that my stomach twists.

“Oh good,” she states, sounding bored. “You’re here.”

She stands, brushing off her dirty hands, as I cast a furtive glance toward the others. Calvin takes another sip of his flask as his gaze drags up and down Belinda’s body.

My body involuntarily shudders. 

But two other males take a step closer to me. One of them was the cowardly one that ran off earlier. The other is the booth attendee.

That icy finger warning me before is now wrapping its entire fist around my throat.

This is a trap.

I don’t have much time to react, let alone think all of this through, so when the booth attendee rushes forward, I grab his arm, pull him closer, and snap his neck within seconds.

Belinda gives a soft gasp as Calvin finally sobers, reading the situation.

The cowardly one pulls out a knife—go figure—and circles me, but I don’t react. 

Instead, I stare Calvin down.

“Abomination,” the guy with the knife spits out. I spot him swinging it at me from the corner of my eye.

I catch his arm, snapping it beneath my touch. He howls in pain and drops to his knees when I don’t let go.

He pleads something, but it doesn’t land.

My gaze remains on Calvin as his friend disintegrates beneath my touch.

Something sinister is taking shape within me, and I’m sure it’s reflected on my face because only then does Calvin swallow, the first sign of doubt flickering across his stupid face.

Belinda whimpers, and it drags me out of that darker place. I blink a few times, returning to my body.

But no, something is wrong.

My body doesn’t feel right; it’s like I’m a stranger inside it.

“What have you done?” My voice grates over rocks on the way out.

Panic wells up inside me, but my body stands straight, unaffected. I can’t even snap my fingers.

Belinda’s whimpers turn to laughter when she holds up a piece of glass.

No.

That piece of glass is connected to a small vial, once that must’ve been hidden between the boards. It only contains a few drops, but that’s really all they need to…

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It was only a small cut—no big deal.

“You don’t have to do this,” I hiss. “Please.”

Belinda circles like a predator, stopping to scrutinize me, her worthless prey, with those piercing green eyes.

I try to summon the shadows to disappear into the night, but nothing comes. The darkness is within me now, spiraling as I drift further into the abyss.

My head fogs as I try to make sense of everything.

I want to ask why, but the words won’t pass my lips.

There’s nothing but silence.


Thanks so much for reading!! I hope you love Draven as much as I do. He’s a complicated being, to say the least. Let me know your thoughts!

Until next time, stay strange.
Bri

One response to “Draven’s Short Story – “Winter Solstice””

  1. Musing, Tidbits, and Other Strange Happenings From Bri Eberhart – January Newsletter – BRI EBERHART Avatar

    […] all about what happened to him pre-Strangers in Our Heads (Strangers # 1). You can read it for free here for more Draven content. […]

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