The healer's clinic smelled of lavender and old parchment. Raina sat on the edge of the cushioned exam bench, legs dangling, hands folded neatly in her lap.
The room was too bright.
"You haven't been sleeping well," said the healer, eyes flicking through a glowing chart. "Circulation's uneven. Magical pulse is flickering."
Raina blinked once.
The woman nodded to herself, scribbled something, then continued. "Do you feel faint often? Shortness of breath? Chest tightness?"
One blink.
"Dreams? Night terrors? Increased sensitivity to magic?"
Raina hesitated—just for a moment—then looked sideways at Leon.
He was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, watching everything. He didn't miss a thing.
"She's been waking up shaken. Cold," he said before Raina had to blink again. "And she doesn't eat in the mornings."
The healer frowned. "Emotional state?"
Raina closed her eyes.
"She's dealing with it," Leon said evenly. "But if you find anything abnormal—anything new—I want to know. Now. Not six months later when she collapses on the Ministry floor again."
"I'm not collapsing," Raina murmured softly, barely audible.
Leon raised an eyebrow at her. "Sure. You just like falling down artistically, then."
She narrowed her eyes. Slightly. That was as close to a retort as she'd give.
The healer gave her a long look, then reached for a delicate silver wand. "I'm going to scan your core again. This may tingle."
Raina said nothing. She felt the pulse of energy slide over her ribs, her sternum, her throat. There was a flicker of something—it made her stomach twist—but she didn't flinch.
The healer paused. "Still… unstable. Your two bloodlines are fluctuating faster than expected for your age."
Leon straightened. "What does that mean?"
"Her body is trying to hold both magical strains in balance. But it's getting harder. She's... wearing out." The healer looked up. "Has she started binding spells yet?"
Raina blinked once. Yes.
"Keep doing it. Daily. Maybe twice. I'll prepare a stabilizer elixir, but it's only temporary." Her voice softened. "No hybrid's ever made it past thirty, you know."
Raina stared down at her knees. She already knew.
The clinic door clicked shut behind them. Leon didn't say anything at first.
Raina reached into her bag. "I'm going back," she said quietly.
"Nope," he replied instantly, snatching the folder from her hands. "You're coming home."
"Leon—"
"You fainted last winter, Rai."
"That was months ago."
"And you're dying," he said gently. "So, no, you don't get to spend the rest of today in your dusty research cave. You get one evening with your family. That's the deal."
She glared at him.
"Go ahead. Give me the silent fury stare. I invented it."
----------
The house smelled like warm bread and spice, and the moment she stepped into the hall, she was swallowed whole.
"Oh my stars, baby girl—Raina!" her mother cried, arms flung open, then wrapped around her like a second skin. "You left this morning without saying goodbye! I swear I didn't even hear your steps—have you been eating anything? You're all bones! And your eyes—look at your eyes, you're exhausted—"
"Mom—let her breathe," Leon muttered, trying to pull her off gently.
"No, you let her breathe! She's mine, and she disappeared like a ghost this morning! You didn't even call the family, Raina! What if something had happened—what if—"
Raina let her mother hold her. Eyes open. Arms still. She didn't pull away, but she didn't lean in either.
Her father stood nearby, arms folded, gaze thoughtful. When the hurricane of a hug finally ended, he approached.
"You look more like me every time I see you," he said, voice warm but dry. "Quiet. Hollow-eyed. Stubborn."
Her mother swatted him with a towel. "You call that affection? She's sick, and all you do is say she looks hollow?"
"She does," he said, deadpan. "Which makes her beautiful, by the way. All the best people are hollow. Means they've got space for light."
Raina blinked at him once.
That was the highest praise she'd gotten from him in months.
"Don't encourage her," her mother muttered, hugging her again from behind. "She's working herself to death."
Raina didn't argue.
Because her mother wasn't wrong.
In the kitchen, still stunned from the attention, Raina turned to reach for the kettle—
—and stopped.
He was there again.
Sitting at the far end of the room with a cup of tea, half-shadowed by a hanging fern. His gaze met hers immediately.
Still. Watchful. Quiet.
The same intensity from the night before, as if she were an unread sentence in a language he was desperate to translate.
Raina looked away.
Didn't speak.
She walked straight past him, heart tightening, and began to prepare the tea.
"Oh right," Leon said, snapping his fingers like he just remembered. "You haven't met him properly yet."
He pointed toward the stranger still seated at the kitchen table.
"Raina, this is Matthias. Caleb's friend. Mine too, now. He's been staying with us for a few days while the unit reorganizes."
Matthias stood up slowly. He didn't smile, but he bowed his head slightly—just enough to be respectful.
"Pleasure to meet you," he said.
His voice was low, even, polished. A voice made for secrets.
Raina stared at him for a moment. Then looked away.
"She's not rude, just... selectively silent," Leon added with a grin. "Don't take it personally. She likes no one."
"That's fair," Matthias said with a neutral nod.
His gaze lingered, just a little too long, before he sat back down.
Chaos arrived like a whirlwind in the form of Lucas—the youngest of her older brothers.
"Rainaaaa!" he bellowed as he barged into the kitchen, sweaty from sparring or jogging or possibly wrestling a mountain bear. "Where's my favorite gloom princess?!"
Raina flinched just before he wrapped his arms around her from behind in a crushing bear hug.
"You smell like outside," she muttered under her breath.
"Because I am outside! I live outside! Nature loves me!"
He ruffled her hair like she was five.
"Lucas," she said through gritted teeth, "stop touching me."
"But you love me," he sang. "You do. You just don't know how to say it. It's okay, I'll say it for you."
"Stop."
"Awww, Rai-Rai—don't you miss my voice? I have the best voice in the house. Admit it."
"Stop."
"Did you eat? Did Leon feed you? You look thinner than last week. Are you dying more?"
Leon shot him a warning glare. "Lucas."
"What? She's dying, not deaf."
Raina pulled her chair slightly farther from Lucas, inching closer to the safety of the table's edge—and the exit.
Lucas flopped into the chair beside her like a starfish.
Matthias sat silently across from them, a porcelain cup in his hand, watching the family dynamic with mild interest—like he was studying a foreign play.
He looked at Raina again.
She felt it instantly.
Like a wire pulled tight inside her chest.
His expression remained unreadable. Calm. Polite.
But his eyes—they didn't blink enough. They followed her movements like he was tracking patterns.
Like he was trying to understand something she hadn't said yet.
Leon didn't notice. He was too busy swatting Lucas with a tea towel and trying to protect Raina's tea from being knocked over.
Matthias lifted his cup again. Still watching.
She looked down at her hands, heart twitching.
Instinct whispered: danger.
But she said nothing.
And Matthias, the gentleman, kept his mask in place.
The dinner table was loud.
Not in volume, but in motion. Dishes passed back and forth, spoons clattered, Lucas knocked over his drink twice, and their mother kept trying to refill Raina's plate with things she didn't ask for.
"You haven't eaten enough," she said for the third time. "You're all air and shadows, darling."
"Mom," Leon warned gently.
"She's fine, she's just shy about it," Lucas grinned. "She eats in secret. Like a night goblin."
"She is a night goblin," Leon muttered.
"I heard that," Raina said quietly, poking at a slice of steamed rootfruit.
Across from her, Matthias sat with his posture perfectly straight, hands folded over his napkin. He hadn't spoken much, but he nodded and offered polite responses when addressed. Still water in a sea of noise.
"So, Matthias," their father said, gesturing with a fork. "How long are we keeping you?"
"A few more days, if that's still alright," Matthias replied calmly. "The restructuring in our unit's taking longer than expected."
"Ah, bureaucracy. The world's slowest form of torture," Leon muttered. "What exactly do you do again?"
"Specialized fieldwork," Matthias said simply. "Security, surveillance, magical anomaly containment."
"Sounds secretive," Lucas said with his mouth full. "Like a spy. Are you a spy?"
Matthias gave him a bland look. "No."
"That's exactly what a spy would say," Lucas whispered, then turned to Raina. "Don't trust him. He's got that spy face. Look at the cheekbones."
Raina didn't look up. She could already feel Matthias's gaze sweeping across the table like quiet radar.
"He's very polite, though," their mother said brightly. "And thank the stars for that, with the way you three turned out."
"Hey!" Leon and Lucas said at once.
Their father chuckled. "I like him. He doesn't talk too much."
"Unlike some people," Leon added, nudging Lucas.
"Oh, I talk too much?" Lucas gasped. "Sorry I'm the only extrovert in this entire cave-house."
Matthias's lips curled slightly—not quite a smile, but close. "It's been a very… colorful stay."
"That's a kind way of saying we're insane," Leon said, raising his glass.
"You're insane," Raina muttered.
"She speaks!" Lucas declared, throwing his arms up. "The ghost has a voice!"
Raina sent him a look that could wilt flowers.
Matthias, across the table, was still watching her. No one else seemed to notice.
But she knew.
She felt it like pressure behind her ribs.
He wasn't leering. Wasn't rude.
Just… too quiet. Too aware.
As if he was waiting.
For something only she didn't know yet.