Page 1 of Hexmate

Chapter 1

Caden

“What do you mean, you’re not my mother?”

I stood there, heart racing, staring at the woman who’d raised me my entire life. She was my mom, she always had been. So why was she saying this now, just after my high school graduation? It was only yesterday I’d donned my graduation gown and walked with my classmates out of the school, thinking I had nothing but a bright future ahead of me. Did I do something wrong? Were my grades not high enough? Had she secretly hated me the entire time and I just never knew?

“I was hired by your father to raise you,” she replied plainly, as if she wasn’t shattering my entire world with every word she spoke. “And now you have been raised, so it’s time for you to meet him.”

“Meet him?” I balked, taking a step back. “You said he was dead!”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, heavy with unspoken truths. My mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of my life that now felt like a lie. She—this woman who had been my mother, or so I thought—turned away, her expression unreadable. I wanted to scream, to demand answers, but my voice caught in my throat. What the fuck was going on?

Before I could muster the courage to speak, the room around me began to shift. The walls blurred, the floor tilted, and a sickening sensation of weightlessness gripped me. I stumbled, reaching out for something, anything, to anchor myself. But there was nothing.

When the world stopped spinning, I found myself standing in a grand, dimly lit hall. Towering stone pillars stretched toward a vaulted ceiling adorned with murals of creatures that defied explanation—wings, fangs, eyes that glowed like embers. The air was thick with the scent of old books and something metallic, like blood.

Fear welled up inside me, panic filling my chest so quickly that I found it impossible to breathe. My eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for an exit, a familiar face, anything to make sense of this nightmare. But all I saw were shadows dancing on the stone walls and flickering candlelight that cast an eerie glow over everything.

“Welcome home, son,” a deep voice echoed through the hall.

I spun around, heart pounding, to face the source of the voice. A tall, imposing figure emerged from the darkness, a lit cigarette glowing between his fingers. As he stepped into the light, I gasped. His features were hauntingly familiar—the same sharp jawline, the same blue eyes that I saw every time I looked in the mirror. But there was something inhuman about him, something that made my skin crawl.

“Who are you?” I managed to choke out, though I feared I already knew the answer.

He smiled, revealing too white teeth that glinted in the candlelight. “I am your father, Damien. And this,” he gestured broadly to the grand hall, “is where you truly belong.”

I shook my head, backing away. “No, this isn’t real. This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, but it is,” he said, moving closer. “You’ve reached adulthood and now it’s time for you to prove yourself.”

Damien’s eyes gleamed with a predatory intensity as he advanced towards me. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my feet remained rooted to the spot.

“Prove myself?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper. “What do you mean?”

He chuckled, the sound devoid of any warmth. “My dear boy, you come from a long line of powerful witches. But power must be earned, not given. You will face trials that will test your mettle, push you to your limits, and reveal your true potential.”

My mind reeled. Witches? Trials? This had to be some elaborate prank or a vivid nightmare. But the cold stone beneath my feet and the acrid smell of smoke in the air felt all too real.

“And if I refuse?” I asked, trying to muster some defiance.

Damien’s smile turned cruel. “Refusal is not an option. You will either prove yourself worthy of the Cromwell name, or you will be cast aside like garbage. I have no use for weakness in my bloodline, and I will not tolerate its continuation. If you refuse me, I’ll refuse your right to live. Plain and simple.”

A chill ran down my spine at his callous words. This man - my father - was clearly dangerous and unhinged. I had to find a way out of here.

“I-I don’t understand,” I stammered, trying to buy time as my eyes darted around for an escape route. “What kind of trials? And what do you mean by witches?”

Damien took a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing an unnatural purple in the dim light. When he exhaled, the smoke formed eerie shapes that seemed to move with purpose before dissipating.

“Magic, boy. Real, raw power that flows through our veins,” he said, his voice taking on an almost reverential tone. “The kind of power that can reshape reality itself, the kind our familyis known for throughout the world. But it must be honed, controlled. The trials will push your abilities to their limits.”

As if to demonstrate, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, writhing vines burst from the stone floor, coiling around my legs. I yelped in surprise and fear, trying to pull away, but they held fast, thorns digging through my jeans and into my skin.

“Stop!” I cried out. “I don’t have any powers! I’m just a normal guy!”

Damien’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. “Don’t lie to me, boy. I’ve been watching you. Those ‘lucky coincidences’ with plants growing unnaturally fast in your garden? The way animals seem drawn to you? That’s magic, raw and untamed.”

I froze, my mind racing. Those strange occurrences I’d always brushed off as flukes... could they really be something more? But before I could process this revelation, Damien continued.

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