A framed photo hung on the wall, her last picture. Fallen's mother, still smiling, frozen in time.
Fallen stood in front of it, taller now. He was seventeen, but today marked his eighteenth birthday.
"I wish you could've stayed with us longer," he whispered. "Spent more time… just one more day."
The door creaked open. His father stepped in, composed as always.
"Your car is waiting, Fallen."
"Okay, Father. I'm coming. Bye, Mom." Fallen turned and walked out.
"When you come back," his father called out, "we need to talk."
"Alright."
Fallen stepped outside and got into the taxi waiting by the gate. The vehicle pulled away slowly under the soft morning light.
Back inside, Fallen's father walked into his cabin. The room was silent, warm, and familiar.
Waiting inside was the same doctor from long ago—the one who had been there at Fallen's birth. He sat comfortably in a chair across the desk.
It was clear now—they were old friends.
"So," the doctor said, "today's the day. What you didn't tell your wife... you're finally going to tell your kid?"
Fallen's father remained quiet. "...Hmm."
Suddenly, footsteps echoed outside the cabin. Slow, deliberate.
Only a shadow appeared under the door. Heavy boots stopped just short of entering.
Then a voice—gravelly, cold—spoke:
"Long time no see... No.1."
---
*To be continued.*