The world was wrong. I didn’t know how I knew, but I felt it in my bones. The air was thick—too thick—pressing down on me like invisible hands, making every breath feel like I was inhaling water. Shadows stretched unnaturally along the cracked pavement, slithering and pulsing like living things. The alley was narrow, too narrow, and the buildings on either side leaned inward, as if the walls themselves were closing in to trap me.

  My footsteps echoed. Once. Twice. Then a third time, long after I had stopped moving.

  I froze.

  The chill that swept through the air was bone-deep, gnawing at my skin despite the heat that should’ve been rising from the ground. My breath fogged in the air, curling unnaturally, lingering too long before vanishing.

  Something was here.

  A low, guttural laugh echoed from the darkness behind me, slithering through the thick air like a snake. It crawled up my spine, cold and wrong, as if the sound itself was alive. “Nowhere to run, little one…” The voice was jagged, rasping, and impossibly deep. It echoed unnaturally, bouncing off the alley walls that seemed to grow tighter, pressing in with every word.

  I turned.

  The alley stretched endlessly now, yawning into an abyss of shifting darkness. But something moved. A hulking shadow seeped out from the blackness, its form unstable—flickering between shapes, never quite settling. One moment, it was a towering figure with jagged claws scraping against the concrete. The next, it dissolved into swirling mist, warping the space around it.

  My pulse thundered in my ears. I stumbled back, heart pounding against my ribs, but my body felt sluggish, like the air itself was weighing me down.

  Run.

  I didn’t think—I just moved. My feet pounded against the uneven pavement, the sound echoing unnaturally in the narrow space. The alley twisted and warped around me, shifting like a labyrinth with no exit. I turned left, then right, but no matter where I ran, the shadows followed.

  The laughter echoed again, closer this time. “Faster, little one… but you can’t outrun me.”

  Panic clawed at my mind as I pushed harder, lungs burning with each breath. But the ground beneath me rippled, warping like disturbed water. My steps faltered as the pavement buckled and shifted, throwing me off balance.

  I stumbled.

  The shadows surged closer.

  I turned a corner, expecting another alley, but instead… I was in the forest.

  The shift was sudden, jarring. Gone were the brick walls and flickering streetlights. Now, twisted trees rose like skeletal fingers toward the moonless sky, their branches reaching for me as if the forest itself was alive. The air smelled of earth and rot, damp and heavy, and the ground was cold beneath my feet, littered with decaying leaves that crackled with every step.

  My pulse skipped. My breath caught.

  How did I get here?

  My mind reeled, trying to make sense of the sudden shift, but my thoughts were slipping through my fingers like water. I turned in circles, eyes darting between the trees, searching for an escape.

  But there was no way out.

  A chill crawled down my spine, colder than the night air.

  “Nowhere to hide, little one…”

  The voice was closer.

  I spun around, and the shadow was there—towering over me, impossibly big. Its form flickered, shifting between monstrous shapes, but its eyes… Cold. Piercing. They locked onto mine, and the world tilted.

  I felt myself unraveling—pulled in different directions, fragments of me splitting apart, suspended between existence and oblivion.

  “A debt is due…”

  The whisper echoed in my skull, reverberating through every nerve in my body.

  “And you will pay.”

  The ground beneath me cracked. The trees bent inward, their branches reaching down like claws. My pulse hammered in my ears as I tried to move, to run, but my body refused to obey.

  “I’m coming for you.”

  The shadow’s jagged claws reached for me, slicing through the air.

  I felt the cold before it touched me. A soul-draining chill seeped into my skin, crawling deeper, anchoring itself in my bones.

  “Soon…”

  The world shattered. And I fell—into darkness.

  I gasped as I hit the ground, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs. A biting cold sank into my skin, sending a violent shiver through my body. The world was still spinning, but the harsh chill seeping into my bones told me something was wrong—very wrong.

  I blinked, trying to clear the haze from my vision. Moonlight reflected off the thick layer of snow covering the ground, making everything glow with an eerie silver sheen. Frost clung to the bare branches of nearby trees, and the air smelled sharp and clean, laced with the scent of winter. But there was something else—something damp and earthy beneath the snow.

  Dirt.

  My hands trembled as I pressed them into the cold, wet ground. Mud clung to my fingers, a gritty reminder that I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t in bed. I wasn’t in the mansion.

  Panic tightened its grip around my chest as I pushed myself up, my limbs stiff and uncooperative. My clothes were soaked through, clinging to my skin as icy wind cut through the fabric, making my body tremble harder. I was covered in grime—snow, mud, and dirt caked onto me like I had been… buried.

  How did I get here?

  My breath fogged in the frigid air, each exhale coming faster, more uneven. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out the silence that pressed in from all sides. The world around me felt too quiet—no rustling branches, no distant howls, no life. Just… silence.

  I wiped at my face, smearing dirt across my cheek as tears blurred my vision. My mind scrambled for answers, but all I could remember was the dream. The alley. The forest. The shadow.

  “I’m coming for you…”

  A tremor shook me to my core. My arms wrapped around my knees as I curled into a ball, trying to hold myself together. But the cold seeped deeper, anchoring itself in my bones, making it impossible to stop shaking.

  It wasn’t real.

  I told myself that, over and over, but it didn’t help. The nightmare’s grip was still too tight, and the icy ground beneath me was proof that something was terribly wrong. My body remembered the fear, the chase, the voice that echoed in my mind.

  But none of that explained how I had ended up outside.

  “Why…?” My voice was barely a whisper, lost in the stillness of the night.

  My chest tightened as another sob broke free. I couldn’t stop it. The fear, the confusion—it was too much. My breath hitched, and tears streamed down my face, hot against my frozen skin. My body shook harder, not just from the cold but from the weight of everything crashing down on me.

  I was alone.

  The mansion was so far away, and I didn’t know how I had gotten here. I didn’t know what was happening to me.

  Another sob wracked my body as I buried my face against my knees, trying to block out the world. I felt so small. So lost.

  And then…

  The lights.

  A soft glow pierced through the darkness, casting long shadows across the snow. My head jerked up, heart pounding as the light grew brighter—coming from the direction of the mansion.

  Someone was coming.

  My pulse quickened, but my limbs refused to move. My body felt like lead, too heavy and too numb to respond. I was still shaking, still struggling to breathe, but my eyes remained locked on the approaching light.

  The sound of footsteps echoed through the stillness. Slow. Measured.

  A shadow moved toward me, growing larger as it approached. I blinked, my vision still blurry with tears, but I recognized the silhouette instantly.

  Dr. Zaraki.

  He moved with calm, deliberate grace, his long coat trailing behind him as he crossed the snow-covered ground. His expression was unreadable, but his darkened eyes were locked onto me as if he had known exactly where I was.

  Relief flooded through me… but it was short-lived.

  As he drew closer, a wave of cold washed over me again. It wasn’t the winter chill—it was something deeper, more unnatural. The kind of cold that slithered through my veins and coiled around my soul.

  My body tensed, a fresh wave of fear gripping me. I wanted to call out to him, but the words wouldn’t come. My throat was raw, my voice lost somewhere in the mess of sobs and panic.

  Zaraki knelt beside me, his presence unnervingly still. His face was calm—too calm—but there was something in his eyes. Concern? Curiosity? I couldn’t tell.

  “Erika…”

  His voice was softer than I had ever heard it. No edge. No authority. Just quiet concern.

  I tried to speak, but my throat was too tight, my body too weak. I was shaking so hard that I couldn’t form the words. Tears still blurred my vision, and I could barely breathe.

  Zaraki’s hand reached out to touch me— And passed through me.

  I felt it.

  A cold, unsettling sensation that slithered through my skin like ice water. My breath caught, and my body went rigid. It was as if I wasn’t entirely… here.

  Panic surged again, tightening its grip as I fought to understand what was happening. I wasn’t dreaming, was I? The cold, the snow, the ache in my limbs—everything felt too real.

  Am I still trapped in the nightmare?

  Zaraki’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something crossing his face—concern, maybe even surprise—but he stayed calm, his voice steady.

  “Easy now,” he murmured, his tone barely above a whisper. “You’re safe.”

  The words should have soothed me, but they didn’t. I felt like I was slipping, teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t define. My heart pounded louder, and my vision blurred as I fought to hold on.

  Then… I blinked.

  The chill that had gripped me began to fade, and the world settled again. I was here. I was solid.

  This time, when Zaraki’s hand touched my shoulder, I felt the warmth of his skin—steady and grounding.

  I was real again. And I broke.

  A fresh wave of tears poured down my face as the tension left my body. I didn’t even try to stop it. I leaned into him, too exhausted and overwhelmed to care anymore.

  Zaraki didn’t speak. He didn’t ask questions or demand answers. He just… held me. His arms wrapped around me with a gentleness that I hadn’t expected, cradling me like something fragile.

  And for the first time since the nightmare began… I felt safe. The warmth seeped through the cold.

  I wasn’t sure how long I had been crying—minutes? Hours? It felt like forever. My body was still trembling, but the violent shivers had lessened. My breathing was uneven, and my chest ached from the weight of so many emotions crashing down on me all at once.

  But I wasn’t cold anymore.

  Dr. Zaraki’s arms cradled me, holding me against his chest. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a quiet, grounding pulse that anchored me in the moment. His grip wasn’t tight or suffocating—it was firm but gentle, like he was trying to hold me together without breaking me.

  I didn’t understand why he was being so… kind.

  This wasn’t the cold, calculating man I had met before. The man who spoke in measured words and looked at people like they were pieces on a chessboard. This was different. His touch was warm, his presence steady, and for the first time… I didn’t feel so alone.

  But I was still confused.

  Why was I outside?

  I didn’t remember walking out here. One moment, I had been in bed, and the next… the nightmare. But that didn’t explain how I ended up in the snow, covered in dirt like I had clawed my way out of the ground.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the questions away, but they wouldn’t leave. My mind wouldn’t stop racing, tangled in fear and confusion.

  “Easy now.”

  Zaraki’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but it carried an undeniable authority. It was the kind of voice that could calm a storm or command an army with the same measured tone.

  I felt him shift, his grip adjusting slightly as he lifted me effortlessly.

  “We’re going inside.”

  I was too exhausted to protest, too drained to even care. My body sagged against him as he carried me back toward the mansion. I barely noticed the cold anymore. My mind was still stuck on the nightmare, the shadow that had chased me… and the chilling words that echoed in my skull.

  “I’m coming for you.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, trying to block it out, but the memory lingered like a stain I couldn’t scrub away.

  The warmth of the mansion hit me the moment we crossed the threshold, a stark contrast to the freezing cold outside. The air was heavy with the scent of woodsmoke and something faintly sweet, maybe spices lingering from an earlier meal.

  Dr. Zaraki didn’t stop until we were in the kitchen, where the soft glow of under-cabinet lights illuminated the space with a muted, golden hue.

  He set me down gently on a wooden stool at the large kitchen island, his movements careful and precise, as if I might shatter if he let go too quickly.

  For a moment, he just stood there, watching me with an unreadable expression. His eyes, normally so cold and calculating, held something softer. Concern? Pity? I wasn’t sure.

  The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know how to ask the questions that were clawing at the back of my mind.

  Instead, I watched as Zaraki moved with quiet purpose, pulling a clean washcloth from a drawer and dampening it under warm water. His movements were precise, almost methodical, but there was no coldness in them.

  When he returned to me, he knelt down so we were eye level.

  “Hold still,” he murmured softly.

  I did.

  The cloth was warm as it touched my skin, and I flinched at first, the sensation catching me off guard. But Zaraki’s touch was gentle as he wiped away the dirt and grime, his movements slow and careful, as if he were afraid of hurting me.

  My tears had left streaks through the mud on my face, and he was erasing them—one stroke at a time.

  I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

  My throat felt tight, and the lump that had been sitting there since I woke up in the snow refused to go away. But for the first time since the nightmare, my breathing started to steady.

  Zaraki didn’t say anything as he worked. He was… quiet. And that was what unsettled me the most. I was used to people filling the silence with words. Reassurances. Promises. Lies. But Zaraki just… stayed silent.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  It was oddly comforting.

  The warmth from the cloth seeped into my skin, chasing away the lingering chill. My body relaxed—just a little—as the grime was slowly wiped away.

  But the questions still lingered.

  “Why…” My voice came out softer than I intended, barely above a whisper. I swallowed, trying to push past the tightness in my throat. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

  I kept my gaze down, watching his hands as he worked, afraid to meet his eyes.

  There was a pause, just long enough for me to wonder if he was going to ignore the question. But then, he spoke.

  “I’m not Father Reynaud.” His voice was calm, steady, but there was something in his tone that made me look up.

  My heart clenched.

  “I don’t stand by when someone needs my help,” he added quietly. His expression was unreadable again, but there was a weight to his words that made my chest ache.

  I didn’t know how to respond to that.

  Father Reynaud had been kind, yes—but never like this. His compassion had been distant, guided by duty more than genuine care. Zaraki’s kindness… felt different.

  I wasn’t sure if that terrified me or made me feel safer.

  For a while, neither of us spoke. Zaraki continued cleaning me off, his movements slow and patient. I sat there, too exhausted to think, too drained to process everything that had happened.

  The warmth of the kitchen, the quiet scrape of the cloth against my skin, and the steady presence of Zaraki were the only things grounding me.

  When he was finished, he set the washcloth aside and stood up, his expression unreadable once again.

  “Better?”

  I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

  But the calm that had settled over me didn’t last.

  The questions came crashing back, and this time… I couldn’t ignore them.

  I stared at the polished surface of the kitchen island, my mind spinning with everything I had seen, everything I had felt. The nightmare. The voice. The way Zaraki’s hand had passed through me before I became solid again.

  “What’s happening to me?” My voice was barely above a whisper, but it echoed in the silence.

  Zaraki didn’t answer right away. He stood there for a moment, his eyes watching me carefully, as if weighing how much to say.

  Finally, he exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough for me to notice.

  “I think it’s time we had that conversation,” he murmured.

  His tone was calm, but there was something beneath it—something heavier.

  A sinking feeling settled in my stomach.

  I wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever he was about to tell me.

  The scent of bacon and eggs began to fill the air, wrapping around me like a familiar comfort as Zaraki began to cook breakfast. I was still perched on the stool at the counter, my body finally warmed by the crackling fire in the next room, but the chill that had settled in my bones wasn’t so easily chased away.

  Dr. Zaraki’s movements were calm and precise as he moved, each flick of his wrist and gentle scrape of the spatula against the skillet controlled and methodical. I could tell he was giving me space, grounding me with the steady rhythm of the kitchen, but the weight of his words still lingered.

  “I think it’s time we had that conversation.”

  The words echoed in my mind, louder than they had been when he’d first said them. I knew he was giving me time to process everything, but the questions burned in the back of my mind, refusing to stay quiet.

  I stayed silent, watching as he cracked another egg into the pan, the yolk settling perfectly as if even that was part of his unshakable routine. He moved with a deliberate ease, but I wasn’t fooled.

  This was a distraction.

  He was buying me time—buying himself time.

  “The world,” he murmured softly, breaking the silence, “is far bigger than most people realize.”

  His tone was calm, but there was a weight to his words that made the air feel heavier.

  I frowned, my voice barely above a whisper as I echoed the word.

  Zaraki nodded, his eyes still on the skillet. “There are things that live in the shadows,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost as if the truth was something that needed to be spoken softly. “Things that don’t fit into the world you’ve known.”

  A chill crawled up my spine, and I hugged my arms around myself a little tighter.

  “Supernatural things,” I murmured, my throat dry.

  Zaraki paused for half a second, his hand hovering over the pan before he resumed cooking. “Yes.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to process his words, but…

  I already knew.

  “I know,” I whispered, my voice barely louder than a breath.

  That made him stop.

  Zaraki turned slightly, his hazel eyes narrowing just a fraction as he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Oh?”

  The single word was quiet, but I could hear the surprise beneath it.

  “Father Reynaud told me,” I murmured, my gaze dropping to the counter. “Before the monastery was attacked… he told me about vampires. Werewolves. The supernatural world.”

  Zaraki’s expression was unreadable as he turned fully to face me, his gaze studying me carefully.

  “Did he now?”

  I nodded, my fingers tracing the faint patterns in the stone as I spoke. “He always said that evil wears many faces. And that sometimes… the monsters aren’t the ones hiding in the dark.”

  A shadow passed through Zaraki’s expression, but he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he turned back to the stove, his movements slower—more deliberate now.

  “Father Reynaud tried to teach me everything he could before the attack,” I added softly, my voice barely above a whisper as it caught in my throat. “I… I even brought some of his tomes with me.”

  Zaraki’s hand stilled for a moment, and this time, he didn’t look up immediately. When he finally turned to face me again, his expression was thoughtful, but there was something else in his eyes—curiosity… and maybe a touch of concern.

  “You brought them with you?”

  I nodded, my throat suddenly tight. “They’re in my bag.”

  For a moment, Zaraki was quiet, his gaze lingering on me. Then, with a quiet exhale, he spoke softly.

  “James.”

  The word was barely louder than a breath, but it carried enough weight to make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

  I barely noticed the figure until he moved. Tall. Composed. Impeccably dressed. I hadn’t heard him approach. His presence was so subtle—so unnervingly silent—that I hadn’t even noticed him until he stepped into the soft light of the kitchen. But it wasn’t his sudden appearance that made my breath catch.

  It was his eyes. They were an unnatural shade of bright blue—so vivid they almost glowed in the dim light. Predatory. Cold. I froze, my body going rigid as a chill ran through me. Every instinct in me screamed that something wasn’t right.

  “Bring Erika’s bag,” Zaraki said softly, his gaze still focused on the stove. “From Star’s room.”

  The butler—James—inclined his head with a smooth, deliberate motion.

  “Of course, sir.”

  His voice was polite. Controlled. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching me. And then… he was gone. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I forced myself to breathe as I stared at the empty space where James had been. My mind was screaming that something was wrong—very wrong.

  A few minutes passed in near silence.

  I kept my gaze fixed on the counter, my mind still trying to piece everything together while the crackle of the bacon and the faint hum of the stove filled the air.

  What the hell was happening?

  The soft sound of footsteps broke the silence.

  James—the butler—returned, moving with that same eerie grace that made my skin crawl. He carried my bag in one hand, placing it gently on the counter beside me.

  “Your bag, Miss,” he murmured politely.

  I didn’t respond right away.

  My gaze was drawn to his eyes again—those unnatural, glowing blue eyes.

  I felt the chill settle deep in my bones, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

  Zaraki noticed.

  “Thank you, James.” His voice was calm, but there was a subtle authority behind it.

  James inclined his head slightly, but I could feel his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before he turned and disappeared from the kitchen, his movements as smooth and silent as before.

  I blinked, finally finding my voice. “His eyes…” I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.

  Zaraki’s attention shifted back to me, and I felt the weight of his gaze.

  “He’s a werewolf,” Zaraki said softly, his tone matter-of-fact.

  My head snapped up. “What?”

  Zaraki gave a small nod, his expression calm but watchful. “James is part of the local pack that lives on the property.”

  A pack… living here.

  My mind struggled to keep up. “You… have a pack of werewolves living on your property?”

  “Yes.”

  The simplicity of his answer left me momentarily speechless.

  “They work for me,” he added, his tone casual, as if he were talking about normal employees.

  “Oh…” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

  What was I supposed to say to that?

  The silence stretched between us again, and my thoughts spiraled.

  “Why?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why do you have a pack of werewolves working for you?”

  I couldn’t stop the question that followed.

  “Are they… your slaves?”

  Zaraki paused.

  And then… he chuckled.

  The sound was low, almost amused, but there was a sadness behind it that I couldn’t quite place.

  “Oh no,” he murmured softly, shaking his head. “Of course not.”

  I frowned, confusion swirling in my mind.

  “Their alpha is a dear friend of mine,” Zaraki continued, his tone quieter now. “A long time ago… I saved him. And since then, he’s sworn to stay by my side. Loyal to me.”

  My mind was spinning, but I forced myself to focus.

  “You’ve met him,” Zaraki added softly.

  I blinked, my brow furrowing. “What? Who?”

  Zaraki’s gaze met mine, and I saw something flicker in his eyes.

  “Stephan Staroko.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “Staroko? The same man that came with to get me?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.

  Zaraki’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

  “The very same.”

  My mind reeled. Staroko—the quiet, composed man I had met—was… a werewolf?

  “How… how is that possible?”

  Zaraki’s expression remained calm, but there was something almost amused in his eyes. “You’ll find that in this world… a lot more is possible than you think.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. As I struggled to process this revelation, another thought hit me.

  “What about Dr. Volkova?” I asked softly, my voice laced with uncertainty.

  Zaraki’s expression softened. “She’s a werewolf too.”

  My head spun. “They’re both…”

  “Yes.” Zaraki’s tone was calm, but I saw the weight behind his words. “And they’re a mated pair.”

  I blinked, confused. “A… what?”

  Zaraki turned back to the sink, picking up a tomato and rinsing it under the water.

  “In the supernatural world,” he murmured softly, “mated pairs are… more than just partners. Their bond goes beyond what humans would consider marriage. It’s deeper. Stronger.”

  He began slicing the tomato with precise, measured strokes, his movements fluid and controlled.

  “Their connection is… primal. Unbreakable.” His voice was quieter now, almost distant, as if he were remembering something.

  I watched him for a moment, my mind trying to process everything.

  “So… they’re… married?” I asked carefully, still not quite understanding.

  Zaraki glanced up, his eyes meeting mine.

  “In a way,” he murmured softly.

  The memory of the picture flashed in my mind—the one of Star and the woman. I remembered where I had been staying. Star’s room.

  “So then…” My voice was hesitant, almost unsure. “You’re… mated too? Or… you were?”

  For a moment, Zaraki’s hand stilled over the cutting board. I saw it then. Sorrow. It washed over his face, flickering through his expression like a shadow before he masked it with that same calm composure.

  “I was,” he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “At one time.”

  His gaze drifted, unfocused, as if he were looking at something far away.

  “But she’s gone now.” His tone was quiet, but the pain beneath it was palpable.

  “Lost to time… and pain.”

  The words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, the weight of his grief was almost suffocating.

  I didn’t know what to say. The heaviness in his voice… the sorrow that lingered in his eyes… it was more than I had ever seen from him. I stayed quiet, my gaze dropping back to the counter as Zaraki returned his focus to the tomato.

  His movements were slower now, more measured, as if the simple act of slicing the vegetable was the only thing keeping him grounded. I watched him in silence, the seriousness of his words settling over me like a heavy blanket. This world…

  It was so much bigger—and more dangerous—than I had ever imagined.

  The kitchen’s warmth lingered, but it did little to settle the tight knot twisting in my stomach. The silence between us wasn’t heavy, yet it carried the weight of questions I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers to.

  Dr. Zaraki had returned to preparing breakfast, the rhythmic chop of his knife against the cutting board the only sound that filled the space. But even that simple act did little to distract me. My thoughts were too loud, circling endlessly around the things he had said.

  Werewolves. Mated pairs. And the haunting sorrow in his voice when he spoke of someone he had lost.

  I needed something to focus on — something that wasn’t the heavy ache still lingering in the air. My fingers found the edge of my bag, the familiar fabric rough beneath my touch. Without thinking, I pulled it closer and reached inside.

  The thick leather tome was right where I had left it, its edges worn and cracked from years of careful study. It was Father Reynaud’s — a collection of everything he had gathered about the supernatural world. Holding it now brought a small wave of comfort, like a tether to the only home I had ever known.

  But as I lifted it from the bag, something else slipped free.

  A bundle of crisp bills tumbled onto the counter, the soft thud breaking the kitchen’s quiet.

  My stomach twisted.

  I had forgotten about the money Father Reynaud had pressed into my hands before I fled. But seeing it now, out in the open, felt… wrong.

  I quickly shoved the money back into my bag, my fingers trembling slightly. My gaze flicked toward Dr. Zaraki, half-expecting him to say something.

  He didn’t.

  His hands never faltered as he reached for the cutting board, but I didn’t miss the slight arch of his brow. The brief flicker of curiosity in his eyes was enough to make my face warm. He didn’t comment, though. He simply returned to slicing the tomato, his expression as unreadable as ever.

  I flipped open the tome, its familiar scent of aged parchment filling the air. My eyes traced the lines of delicate script, searching for the section that had drawn my attention so many times before.

  Echo Born.

  My pulse quickened as I scanned the page. The words detailed the abilities of those gifted — or cursed — with the power to exist in a state between worlds. They could shift through walls, become incorporeal, and sometimes appear in two places at once.

  I remembered the way my body had phased, how Dr. Zaraki’s hand had passed through me like I wasn’t even there. The chill that lingered after. The distant, echoing voice from my nightmare.

  This had to be it.

  I turned the book toward him, my voice hesitant. “I’m an Echo Born… aren’t I?”

  Dr. Zaraki’s hand paused mid-motion. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, a soft, almost amused sound escaped him.

  “Huh.” His eyes flicked toward the book. “I wondered where that went.”

  I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

  “The tome.” He gestured lightly with the knife, his tone dry. “It disappeared from one of my collections some time ago. I suppose now I know where it ended up.”

  The idea that this belonged to him — that he might have read these very words before — unsettled me. But I pushed it aside, focusing on the only question that mattered.

  “So… I am one?”

  Zaraki shook his head, his amusement fading. “No, Erika.” His voice softened. “You’re not an Echo Born.”

  The certainty in his words settled over me like a cold weight.

  “But I—” I faltered. “I phased through the mansion some how. You couldn’t touch me. That’s what they do. I—”

  Zaraki met my gaze, his expression unreadable. “Echo Borns are powerful, yes,” he said, his voice calm. “But they exist on the fringes of reality. Their abilities are predictable — explainable. What you did…” He paused, his dark eyes searching mine. “That was something else.”

  The knot in my stomach twisted tighter. “Then… what am I?”

  Zaraki placed the knife aside, wiping his hands on a towel. His movements were slow, deliberate — like he was measuring each word before he spoke.

  “You are a Veldrith.”

  The word hung in the air, unfamiliar and heavy. I frowned, the syllables lingering on my tongue. “A… Veldrith?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

  “You wouldn’t have,” Zaraki replied quietly. “Veldriths are… rare. So rare that most will never know of their existence. And those who do…” He exhaled softly. “They don’t forget.”

  A chill settled over me.

  “But what does that mean?” My voice cracked, the uncertainty clawing its way free. “What am I?”

  Zaraki’s gaze darkened. “You are a paradox.”

  He didn’t say it like an insult. It wasn’t cruel or mocking. But the weight of his words struck harder than any condemnation ever could.

  “Veldriths exist in a state of quantum superposition,” he explained, his voice low. “Alive and dead. Here and not here. Until observed or influenced, a Veldrith remains undefined. You are both and neither — a living contradiction.”

  My chest tightened. “That’s impossible.”

  Zaraki’s expression didn’t waver. “And yet… here you are.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but the memories slammed into me —the attack, the nightmare, the voice that whispered of debts and shadows. The way my body had flickered like a ghost, how the ground beneath me had felt both solid and intangible.

  No.

  It wasn’t impossible. It was real. And it terrified me.

  “Veldriths are not just rare,” Zaraki continued, his tone somber. “They are coveted. Powerful beings, feared and desired by those who seek to control the uncontrollable.”

  He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes never leaving mine.

  “You are something that defies the laws of existence, Erika. And that makes you… valuable.”

  The word Veldrith echoed in my mind, settling into the cracks of everything I thought I knew about myself.

  I stared at Dr. Zaraki, my throat tightening, but the words wouldn’t come. A Veldrith. Not an Echo Born. Not something that fit neatly into the pages of Father Reynaud’s tome. Something else. Something… impossible.

  I tried to make sense of it, but the more I thought about it, the less it made sense. Alive and dead. Here and not here. A living paradox? The ache in my chest tightened as my thoughts spiraled. I had always known I was different. Father Reynaud had sensed it too — that was why he had given me the tome and told me to study it. But this… This was beyond anything I had imagined.

  “Erika.”

  Zaraki’s voice was calm, but there was a quiet intensity beneath it that pulled me from my thoughts. I blinked, my gaze focusing on him again. He was watching me carefully, his expression unreadable, but I could feel the weight behind his eyes.

  “You’re not alone in this,” he said softly. “But you need to understand what this means.”

  My voice was barely louder than a whisper.

  “What does it mean… to be a Veldrith?”

  Zaraki’s jaw tightened slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. His gaze drifted toward the window, where the snow outside fell in slow, silent flakes.

  “It means,” he murmured, his tone quieter now, “that you are walking a very dangerous path.”

  A chill crawled down my spine, colder than the winter air seeping through the walls.

  “Dangerous?” The word barely escaped my lips.

  Zaraki’s gaze returned to me, and the calm in his eyes didn’t soften the weight behind his words.

  “Veldriths are unpredictable.” He spoke carefully, each word measured and deliberate. “Because of your nature — existing in multiple states at once — you’re capable of things that defy the laws of reality. But that power comes with… consequences,” Zaraki continued, his tone darker now. “And if left unchecked…” His voice trailed off, and I felt the air grow heavier. “You could lose yourself.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  “How?”

  Zaraki exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders barely easing.

  “Veldriths exist in a constant state of flux,” he said quietly. “Your body, your essence… they aren’t tied to a single reality the way most beings are. You shift between states, between possibilities. And the more you do it…”

  He paused, his gaze steady.

  “The harder it becomes to stay anchored.”

  My pulse pounded louder in my ears, my mind racing to process his words.

  “What happens if I… lose control?” I whispered, the weight of the question settling heavily in my chest.

  Zaraki’s expression darkened slightly.

  “You… fade,” he murmured softly.

  My throat went dry.

  “What… what do you mean?”

  Zaraki’s gaze lingered on me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke again.

  “You fall out of sync with reality,” he murmured softly. “A Veldrith who loses control… fades.”

  I swallowed hard, my throat tightening.

  “Gone?” My voice cracked slightly.

  Zaraki’s jaw clenched, but he gave a small nod.

  “Not dead,” he said softly. “Not alive, either. Just… gone.”

  A chill settled in my bones, and I hugged my arms around myself.

  “Has this happened before?”

  Zaraki’s expression shifted — not quite sadness, but… something close.

  “Yes.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  “There was another,” Zaraki murmured softly, his tone distant. “Before you.”

  I blinked, confusion swirling in my mind.

  “Another… Veldrith?”

  Zaraki gave a slow nod, his gaze far away, as if he was remembering something long buried.

  My throat tightened.

  “What happened to them?”

  Zaraki’s expression darkened, and for a moment, he didn’t speak.

  “He… vanished.”

  The single word sent a chill down my spine.

  “Vanished?” My voice was barely louder than a breath.

  “One day, he was here,” Zaraki murmured softly, his gaze distant. “And the next…” He paused, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

  “Gone.”

  The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken truths. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of what he wasn’t saying.

  “You don’t know… what happened to him?”

  Zaraki’s expression darkened slightly, and I saw the tension in his jaw.

  “No,” he admitted softly. “I have… theories. But nothing certain.”

  A shiver ran down my spine.

  “What do you think happened?” I asked, barely able to find my voice.

  Zaraki’s gaze was distant again, as if he was seeing something I couldn’t.

  “I suspect…” His voice trailed off for a moment before he shook his head slightly. “I suspect he may have… lost control. Phased too deeply… and was pulled somewhere beyond our understanding.”

  The silence between us grew heavier, but one question clawed at the back of my mind.

  “I… I didn’t see anything about Veldriths in the tome.” My voice was hesitant, barely above a whisper. “Why wasn’t it mentioned?”

  Zaraki’s expression shifted — just slightly — but enough for me to notice.

  “It wasn’t included,” he said softly, his tone carrying the weight of something unspoken.

  “But why?” I pressed, confusion swirling in my mind. “If… if there was another one before me, wouldn’t there have been something about it?”

  Zaraki’s gaze lingered on the tome, but his expression was distant, as if he was recalling something from long ago. Then, softly… almost reluctantly, he spoke.

  “Because I never wrote it down.”

  My heart stopped. The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

  “You… never wrote it down?” My voice was barely above a whisper, my mind struggling to process what I had just heard.

  Zaraki’s expression was unreadable, but the weight behind his gaze told me everything.

  “I didn’t have enough information,” he murmured softly. “Not after he vanished.”

  And Then… It Hit Me. I felt my breath catch, the realization slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave. He didn’t write it down. Not because he couldn’t. But because… This was his tome. I looked at the worn leather binding, the faded edges, and the meticulous handwriting I had skimmed through three days ago. It had felt ancient — as if it had been passed down through generations. But now… I knew it was his. Dr. Zaraki wrote the tome.

  “You… wrote this tome?”

  The words slipped out before I could stop them, barely louder than a breath. Zaraki’s gaze met mine, and for a moment, there was silence.

  “Yes,” he murmured softly.

  The weight in the room was suffocating, but Zaraki’s voice cut through it, steady and calm.

  “We’ll begin your training later today,” he said softly, his tone firm but not unkind. “But first…”

  His gaze drifted over me, and I felt the warmth in my cheeks return as I became painfully aware of how disheveled I still was — dirt and grime clinging to my skin, the remnants of everything I had just endured.

  “You need to go take a shower,” Zaraki murmured, his tone gentler now. “Get cleaned up. Then… we begin.”

  I nodded slowly, the weight of everything still pressing down on me. But beneath the fear, beneath the uncertainty… There was a spark. A quiet, flickering ember of determination that I wasn’t sure that I was ready for.