Chapter 13.
The air in Falco Valuare's house smelled of old wax and buried secrets. The walls, covered with family portraits whose eyes had faded, followed Aisha's every move like jealous specters.Falco's disciple, a man with calloused hands and an icy gaze, threw the keys at her feet.
—Do whatever you want —he said, pointing to Falco's pocket watch hanging from his neck, its ticking synchronized with Aisha's heartbeat—. But if you open the basement door, what you find there will be your coffin.
The chest beneath the bed did not only guard coins: among the gold gleamed wolf's teeth set in silver, each engraved with runes that matched Rasen's scars.
In the following days, the pages of Falco's diary released a scent of saffron and rust. Aisha discovered that when dampened with tears, hidden phrases appeared:"Your blood is not yours, sister. He watches you from the broken mirror."
On the last page, a lock of hair, white as snow —Sanathiel's, perhaps— marked a disturbing passage:"Itzel swore to avenge the White Wolf… but it was her daughter who paid the price."
It was then that she found the old cell phone in Steven's drawer. It bore a faded sticker with the logo S.S.V. (Sanguis Sanathiel Vincit). When she powered it on, the ringtone was a distorted howl.
—Aisha! —Steven's voice thundered from the dining room.
He expected her to sit with him, like a false family gathered around a table too silent.
—What do you plan to do with me? —she asked, barely able to steady her voice.
Steven let out a short, bitter laugh. He sipped his coffee and replied with disdain:—If you want, leave today, Aisha, but don't expect Rasen to return for you.
The air caught in her throat. His cold stare was a reminder: she was trapped.
That night, desperate for a breath, Aisha hid on the rooftop. The icy wind caressed her face as Steven found her there, tracing invisible constellations with his finger. His breath smelled of mint and poison.
—Falco believed your blood could awaken what Arceo tried to bury —he whispered, showing a scar shaped like a serpent that writhed under the moonlight—. Did you know your brother Falco traded his soul for yours on the night of the fire?
Before Aisha could respond, his lips pressed against her forehead. Where he kissed, her skin turned translucent, revealing bones inscribed with golden runes.
—You helped Arceo erase his trail! —she shouted, striking him with a candelabrum whose candles lit themselves—. You are one of them!
Steven caught her wrist, and the blood seeping from his skin was black.
—Falco was not your brother. He was your jailer… and my master. And now, I will be the key to your cage.
His words thundered in her mind, but another voice broke through.
"Wake up, Aisha."
It wasn't Steven.It was Sanathiel.
His voice burned beneath Arceo's skin, tearing at invisible chains, struggling to break free.
An unbearable pain made her collapse. She rolled down the stairs, and in the impact she not only felt bones shatter: she saw foreign memories.A child —Steven?— crying before a wounded White Wolf.Falco signing a pact with ink made from cypress roots.The shadow of Arceo emerging from Itzel's broken mirror.
When she opened her eyes, in her palm lay an illuminated scroll she did not remember holding. It marked a map of the desert, pointing to the location of the lost girl.
Sanathiel was still alive.And she knew it.
—Damn it… that dog managed to accelerate the process —Steven muttered under his breath, filled with rage.
I laid her down on the nearest bed, pressing on her chest and stomach, but she could not escape the trance. Everything became confusion.
Meanwhile, Rasen continued his journey after escaping the boarding school, and this was only the beginning. He wandered alone through an unfamiliar desert, on a path that was not only sand:The dunes shone like serpent scales, shifting beneath the moon, guiding him toward Lord Lionel Ruanda.
Björn's "gift" had turned out to be a blue glass vial containing a tear of Sanathiel, which froze whenever it neared dark magic.
With the compass in hand, he marched on, straying only to survive. Reaching what would be his destination. One where he could neither see Aisha directly nor confront Steven.
"Find this woman."
Those were the only clear instructions, and one single command: "I do not accept refusals." For this, Björn had made things easier, with that strange envelope he had given as a gift —something useful. He only needed to arrive.
Hours passed, the night arrived earlier than expected. When he opened his eyes, dawn had already come. He kept walking until he sighted a small restaurant in the middle of the desert.
A waiter, upon seeing him, placed a pitcher of ice water on the table, allowing him to refresh his dry throat and bathe his sun-cracked lips.
The incandescent light of that day blinded any view, so he shaded his eyes with his hands. A shadow descended from a camel. Rasen wet his face and hair but never looked away. Golden hair that caught the sunlight, drawing all attention, approached his table. A pale-skinned man who never once removed his black glasses. His ostentatious bearing and reflection projected undeniable authority.
—Is it you? —he asked, adjusting his glasses, revealing an unusual eye color as he examined him from head to toe—. I am pleased you survived my hawks —said the Ruanda heir, pointing to two men with claw marks across their eyelids guarding the entrance.
One of Lionel's guards placed a laptop on the table. Rasen handed over the USB, which contained more than data: once inserted, Lionel's screen displayed a video of the girl singing in Latin, while behind her Arceo loomed, watching from a mirror.
Without waiting for an answer, Lionel turned and left the restaurant with the same authority with which he had arrived. Adding:—Rasen, isn't it? You will come with me. You don't need to dress like that. Hide that sword, and meet me at the plane. Speak to the stewardess, she will provide what you need.
Rasen, covering his katana with a black cloak, followed the stewardess's instructions. He took the time to clean up and, staring at his reflection, saw his sunburned and weathered face. "This will do," he thought, adjusting the coat before leaving.
In his private plane, Lionel reviewed the information on his laptop.—Relax, the trip will take no more than a few hours.
Rasen leaned back and closed his eyes, letting exhaustion overtake him for a moment. However, he woke abruptly at the sound of noise. Lionel was no longer there.
An older man greeted him upon disembarking.—This is for you, young Rasen. Lord Ruanda left instructions. Do not worry about your belongings, they will be taken directly to his hotel.
He handed him a coat with a card naming the hotel, and another with funds to spend at leisure.
—Enjoy your stay in France. Just be sure to arrive before young master Lionel. Be prudent. That is all.
The city dazzled with its beauty, a stark contrast to the desert's hostility. Before heading to the hotel, he chose to wander a bit, granting himself a brief distraction in the midst of so much uncertainty.
Meanwhile, Aisha awoke with her body stiff and sore. Morning light flooded the room, revealing drawers opened and rummaged through. Everything looked disturbed, as if someone had searched frantically for something. Turning to rise, she saw Steven asleep in a rocking chair, his face tense even in rest.
Aisha rose silently, hiding the phone tucked inside her pillowcase. Barefoot, she moved down the hall, stopping before Falco's portrait. Running her fingers over the painting, she shifted it, revealing a hidden compartment containing an obsidian dagger and a photo of herself with the girl, taken on a date she could not recall.
On the back, written in trembling letters:"When Arceo awakens, cut the silver threads. He will show you how."
The sound of breaking glass downstairs reminded her that Steven could wake at any moment. She hurried back upstairs and lay down just as he stirred."I went for water…"
Steven stood, left without a word, then called her: "COME DOWN NOW, AISHA."
A map and gold coins he had hidden slipped from his bag."You steal from me, foolish girl."
As he moved toward the kitchen, Aisha felt the weight of silence pressing in. Her steps were cautious, watched. Something inside urged her to act. Pulling out the phone, she powered it on in haste.
Her thumb trembled over the screen.If she sent this message, everything would change. There would be no turning back.But if she didn't… was there anything left to save?
#Lionel → Send message.
Aisha gripped the phone tightly, each second in that house stealing her breath, each moment an eternity. That message was a desperate attempt to escape her emotional and physical prison.
A few footsteps snapped her back to reality. She held back her tears as best she could, pretending nothing was wrong as Steven's voice reached her.
"You will be my puppet if I will it, Aisha… You are nothing more than a broken doll without memories, defective, for whom your elder brother died."
She heard him rant from the kitchen as much as he wished, but ignored him until the phone buzzed. She read the message quickly and hid it.
As she did, Steven's voice called again:—Aisha, the tea is ready.
She drew a deep breath and straightened her posture.She was no longer the same girl who had entered that house.She went out to face Steven… and the destiny awaiting her.
Post-Scene
The abandoned greenhouse whispered with a life of its own. Cracks in the glass let the moonlight in, but distorted it, casting broken shadows on walls covered with ritual symbols carved in dried blood.
The air smelled of damp earth, ashes, and a sweet, cloying perfume that did not belong to this world.
In a corner, a little girl in a white nightgown stained with soil hummed softly. But she did not sing alone.Her lips moved a moment before sound emerged, as if someone whispered to her from the other side of the veil.
Between her small hands she held two objects:Itzel's diary, open to a page where the ink looked fresh, as if someone had just written on it:"Only the blood of the innocent will break his chains."
And a gold coin, Aisha's mark, with a wolf's tooth embedded at its center. But the coin was not mere metal.
It pulsed.A tiny heartbeat ran through it, as if a miniature heart lived inside.
Song Lyrics (Latin):"Sanguis matris, osculum patris,Filia lunae ligat veritatem.Per hanc lacerem omnes catenas…"
Subtle Translation:Blood of the mother, kiss of the father,Daughter of the moon binds the truth.With this tear I break all chains…
The wind blew through the greenhouse's cracks.The coin shuddered.
The girl tilted her head, still humming. Then she closed her eyes and pressed the coin against her wrist.
The metal did not only melt.It became a thread of liquid silver that slithered across her skin, etching a pattern that glowed in the gloom.
Suddenly, a different whisper floated through the air.But it did not come from the girl.
"Per hanc lacerem omnes catenas…"
A woman's voice.A dead woman's voice.
The diary's pages floated around her, aligning like constellations. A star map began to form, marking three specific points:Falco's house, the desert where Rasen traveled, and an unnamed grave in Transylvania.
The girl smiled. But her reflection in the shattered glass was no longer her own. Shadows stirred. Red eyes gleamed in the dark. Yet the silhouette was not one. It divided.
On one side, a wolf, its fur as black as the night itself, fangs dripping with a liquid that had never been blood.On the other, a man, sharp-featured, with the same burning eyes, his form elongated by the distortion of moonlight.
But then…
"The wolf and the man were not two, but neither were they one. They were the reflection of a curse: Sanathiel chained, Arceo freed."
Only to separate again, as if two souls were trapped in an endless struggle.
The girl extended her hand.The man advanced.
—It is time —she whispered.
The wind blew out every candle in one breath.
A distorted echo resounded among the greenhouse ruins.—Find the woman, little one.He is hungry.
The girl did not react immediately.Her gaze drifted to the broken glass.
Now her reflection was Lionel's.Watching her from the other side, impassive.
She tilted her head, whispering without moving her lips.—He is not the only one.
On her wrist, the silver thread finished forming a knot in the shape of a wolf.A wolf identical to Rasen's scars.