The sky over Paris still carried the dimness of dawn when Arion Kael sat at the edge of his hotel bed, his phone trembling in his hands. The feeling he had experienced during the day the silent streets, the distorted gazes, the strangeness in the air still lingered. More than ever, he knew he needed help, but not just any help: he needed someone who understood Seraya and, somehow, still carried memories of those old bonds.
His finger hovered over the screen, hesitant. The most obvious contact was Lior Blackwood, his and Seraya's childhood friend. Lior had always been the link that kept the three of them together, the rational voice amid the emotions and artistic adventures that Arion and Seraya shared. But it had been years since they last spoke. Since Seraya disappeared, Arion had plunged into deep silence, pushing everyone away. Pride and pain had kept him from reaching out to Lior, and now the weight of solitude and fear pushed him to break that silence.
He took a deep breath and pressed "call."
The phone rang several times, each tone amplifying Arion's nervousness, until a hoarse, tired voice finally answered:
— Hello? — Lior's voice sounded distant, cautious. — Arion? Is that really you?
— Lior… it's me — Arion said, trying to sound steady, though his heart raced. — I… I need your help.
There was a pause on the other end.
— Arion… how long has it been? — Lior's voice carried surprise, but also a tone of doubt. — You haven't called in years. After Seraya disappeared, you… vanished. We were all worried about you.
Arion swallowed hard.
— I know… I know — he said, his voice breaking. — But something is happening now. I… I feel like she's trying to communicate. I can't explain it properly, but the city… the city feels different. There are signs, Lior. People, streets, shadows… and I need someone to believe me.
On the other end, Lior sighed, uncertainty heavy in every pause.
— Arion… are you serious, or is this some relapse from what you went through? — Lior's voice was firm, but carried fear and concern. — You were so shaken after she disappeared. We've all been trying to move on, and you… you just shut yourself off from everything and everyone.
— I'm not crazy, Lior! — Arion felt heat rising in his chest. — I know it sounds strange, but I can't ignore this. Something's wrong in Paris. I felt it yesterday and today… streets, people, everything different. And the mural… — He hesitated, recalling the golden hues, the pulsing rhythm of Seraya's work — it's not just that. There's something more, something we can't see, but that responds to emotions.
Lior remained silent for a few seconds, then spoke with a softer, almost hesitant tone:
— Arion… I want to believe you. But I don't know if I can. You disappeared, isolated yourself… and now you come with these things about murals, cities, and… presences no one else feels? It's… hard.
— I know, Lior — Arion murmured, a knot tightening in his throat. — But I need you to trust me just this once. I can't do this alone. She… Seraya… she might be in danger, and if I'm wrong, at least we'll have tried together.
There was a long pause, the silence on the other end heavy. Finally, Lior sighed.
— All right — he said, resigned. — Tell me exactly what you felt. But be clear, Arion. No mystical stories. Just facts—what you saw, what you felt.
Arion drew in a deep breath and began recounting everything: the strangeness of the square, the vacant gazes of the people, the distorted sounds, the alley where he felt a stronger presence, and even the strange reflections in shop windows. Every detail Arion recalled made his voice tremble, but he persisted.
— And the mural — he continued — it's part of it, but it's not just that. It's as if something is… hovering over the city. Watching, manipulating, reacting to people's emotions and… to mine.
On the other end, Lior let out a long sigh.
— You know, Arion… if you had told me this years ago, maybe I would have believed you. But after everything… I don't know. — His voice was sincere, but heavy with doubt. — Still, if you're asking for help, I'll listen. But we'll do this my way. I want proof, evidence. Not just feelings.
Arion agreed. He knew Lior was right. He couldn't rely only on emotions; he needed concrete signs.
— Tomorrow — Lior said — I'll book a flight, head straight to Paris, and when I arrive, we'll walk the streets you think are… different. I want to see for myself. But know this: if this is the result of stress or distorted memory, we'll deal with that too.
— I understand — Arion replied, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. — Thank you, Lior.
After the call, Arion sat in silence, staring at the ceiling. Tension still pulsed in his chest. He knew Lior didn't fully believe him, but the fact that he would be by his side in the coming days was already a step forward. For the first time in years, he felt he wasn't completely alone in the search for Seraya.
When he closed his eyes, memories flooded his mind. He remembered the childhood afternoons when the three of them ran through the alleys, inventing adventures, creating worlds with brushes and musical notes. He felt Seraya's absence more strongly than ever. The emptiness was still there, but now there was a spark of hope, a possibility that they might uncover the truth together, even if Lior doubted.