The hotel room was steeped in silence, broken only by the steady hum of Lior's laptop. The bluish glow of the screen lit their tired faces, revealing deep shadows under their eyes. Outside, Paris seemed asleep, yet Arion had the strange feeling that the whole city was breathing beneath his skin, alive and watching them.
Arion paced restlessly, unable to sit. Seraya's notebook still hadn't arrived, Lior had asked his sister to retrieve it and send it by plane, but it would take at least a day. The wait felt endless, and Arion's anxiety only grew.
"This doesn't make sense," Lior muttered, typing quickly. "I'm cross-referencing reports from local newspapers, but there's no clear pattern. They're scattered articles, poorly documented… almost as if no one was interested in recording these things."
"What do you mean?" Arion leaned closer, resting his hand on the desk.
On the screen, dozens of open tabs displayed obscure reports: an unexplained disappearance in Brussels, a case of mass hysteria in Munich, a sudden blackout in Rome, people swearing they had seen "the city change shape" in Madrid.
"Most of these were published in independent blogs or small regional papers that don't exist anymore," Lior explained. "But look at this: in almost every report, witnesses describe 'a feeling that the world froze' or 'that they were inside a dream.' It's very similar to what happened at the café today."
A chill ran down Arion's spine."And when did these cases start?" he asked.
Lior scrolled until he found a date."Guess." He sighed. "They all began about five years ago. Right after Seraya disappeared."
Arion froze, as if punched in the gut."It can't be a coincidence," he whispered. "This is connected to her."
"Or connected to you," Lior shot back, his gaze sharp with doubt. "Think about it. These phenomena began when you were at the peak of your tour, traveling to different cities every week. It's possible you were the thread tying it all together, not Seraya."
Arion said nothing. The idea unsettled him, yet a memory began to surface.
He remembered being in St. Petersburg after a show. Fans waved posters, asking for autographs. Among the colorful papers, one mural had caught his eye: distorted, dreamlike figures, and a melody written in strange symbols. At the time, he had dismissed it as "street art." He hadn't given it a second thought.
Now, staring at the files on the screen, his mind began to stitch loose threads together."Wait." He grabbed his phone and opened an old folder of tour photos. "I need to check something."
He scrolled through dozens of images: lit-up stages, screaming crowds, blinding flashes. In between, he began to find backstage shots taken by fans or crew. In many of them ones he had barely noticed before strange murals appeared in the background.
In Berlin, a building covered in graffiti, eyes that seemed to follow him.In Warsaw, a female figure painted with her back turned, staring at a horizon that wasn't there.In Lisbon, a wall covered with fragmented musical symbols.
"Do you see this?" He showed Lior, his heart racing. "It's not a coincidence. These murals were always there. In every city."
Lior squinted at the images."They look similar to the symbols in the notebook… at least from what I remember." He rubbed his temple, incredulous. "But, Arion, how did you never notice this before?"
Arion let out a shaky, bitter laugh."Because I was just trying to survive, Lior. Sold-out shows, interviews, people telling me to 'move on' while I was still bleeding inside. I saw these things, but my mind refused to register them. It was easier to believe they were coincidences than face the possibility that Seraya was trying to speak to me."
Silence fell. Her name carried a weight that always broke them.
Lior turned back to the screen."I'll try to cross-check the dates of the murals with the reports of strange phenomena. If there's overlap, maybe we'll find a pattern."
As he typed, Arion kept scrolling through old photos. With each image, the tightness in his chest grew.
In Madrid, a warped shadow painted behind a concert poster.In Amsterdam, a phrase in Latin he didn't understand.Until finally, he reached a photo from Lisbon, taken just weeks before heading to Paris.
The image showed a wall near the theater where he had performed. The mural, once forgotten, now screamed at him: broken instruments, musical notes dissolving into the air. In the lower corner, almost hidden by the shadow of a tree, a phrase written in French:
"Si la ville change, suis la mélodie."
"My God…" Arion dropped his phone onto the desk, his hands trembling.
"What is it?" Lior leaned over, picking up the device. His eyes widened. "The same phrase from the notebook. 'If the city changes, follow the melody.'"
Arion stepped back, breathing deeply, fighting the panic tangled with hope."This means it's not just Paris. She left signs in every city I passed through. Signs I ignored."
"Or signs someone else deliberately placed in your path," Lior corrected, his tone grave. "This doesn't prove it was Seraya. It could have been someone else, someone who knew where you'd be."
Arion clenched his fists."No. I know it. This is her hand. The way she hid messages in art, in symbols, in music. She always did that."
Lior stared at him, torn between skepticism and fear."So what you're saying… is that she's guiding us?"
Arion drew a deep breath, staring out the window at the city glowing under the dawn."Maybe it's not just the city that's changing, Lior. Maybe it's the entire world."
The words lingered in the air like a prophecy.