The hospital smelled faintly of roses today—a strange contrast to the sterile air Reyan had grown used to. He'd been moved from the ICU to a private recovery room, white and quiet, with a window that spilled golden light across the floor. But it had been nearly a month since he had first opened his eyes—and in that time, the world had changed more than he could grasp.
Liora sat beside his bed, scrolling through her phone absentmindedly until she noticed him shift.
"Morning," she said softly.
Reyan blinked, confused. "...How long have I been here?"
She leaned closer, brushing hair away from his forehead. "A month. You've been asleep most of the time. But you're getting stronger now."
He looked around, gaze drifting to the flowers by the window. "Have you… been here the whole time?"
She gave a short, fond laugh. "Of course. I wasn't going to leave you again."
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but his brow furrowed instead. "I feel like I'm forgetting something important."
Liora hesitated, then took a breath. "It's okay. You don't need to rush. We'll tell you everything. Bit by bit."
There was a soft knock on the door. Liora's mother stepped in, guiding an older woman gently behind her. She had Reyan's eyes.
"This… this is your mother," Liora said quietly. "She's been staying nearby. She's the one who saved you—years ago. After your father…"
The older woman stepped closer. Her eyes brimmed with tears, trembling hands held against her chest.
"You don't remember me," she said with a broken smile, "but we lived here, in this town, after your father died. I… I had to leave you behind to keep you safe."
Reyan didn't respond right away. But something deep in him stirred. A warmth that flickered in his chest—an instinct that whispered, she's telling the truth.
Liora reached for his hand. "She owns the house next to mine. The one that's been locked all these years—it was hers. Yours. You'll be living there now."
The following weeks passed like gentle waves, slow but certain. Liora and his mother helped him recover. They told him only the good memories—about his favorite foods, about the time he once chased ducks into a pond, about how he used to draw stars on the walls with crayons. They painted a life that felt kind, safe, and real.
The past—the ritual, the mansion, the blood—remained in shadow.
Until one evening, as the sky turned violet, Liora received a call.
She frowned, stepping out of the room. It was a number she hadn't saved. The voice on the other end made her freeze.
"Liora," the man said. "I'm your uncle… Reyan's uncle. There's something you need to know—about his father. About what really happened to his mother."
Her heart skipped. "What?"
The line went silent for a second too long.
"It's not just about the ritual. You've only scratched the surface."
She ran back into the house and found Reyan's mother sitting with a blanket across her lap.
"Did you know he had a brother?" Liora asked, breathless.
The older woman's eyes went wide.
"Yes," she said slowly. "But I prayed you'd never have to meet him."
Liora's pulse raced. She glanced at Reyan asleep on the couch.
"I need to go," she whispered. "To Sahana. There's more. And I'm going to find it."