Arion entered the hotel room exhausted, leaving the magazine material folder on the table. The day's fatigue—from photos, interviews—still weighed on his shoulders, but a constant restlessness remained: Seraya. He sank into the armchair, closing his eyes for a few seconds, while Lior, seated at the desk, was already speaking animatedly, fingers drumming on the wooden surface.
"I need to tell you," Lior began, without lifting his head, eyes fixed on the laptop. "I was thinking… the way we're analyzing this might be too limited. And then I remembered something that could change our course."
Arion opened his eyes, paying attention.
"What is it?" he asked, trying to push aside the fatigue.
Lior took a deep breath and then started:"There's another missing artist, but not at exactly the same time. A year after Seraya. A painter from a country near France, named Elric Vaël. No one knows exactly where he went. He started acting strangely and one day just vanished—the description is very similar to what happened with Seraya."
Arion frowned, absorbing the information.
"You mean it might not be an isolated case?"
"Exactly," Lior replied, finally looking at him, eyes shining with the excitement of someone connecting the dots. "What if there's a connection? Not just between Seraya and the paintings, but between her and other artists who disappeared in the same period? Perhaps there's a pattern, a force, or phenomenon repeating itself."
Arion stood up, pacing the room. He thought about the murals, the people with vacant stares, the notebook, and felt that same pang of unease again.
"So… Kaerel isn't our immediate destination anymore?" he asked.
"No," Lior said, slapping the table with his palm. "If we want to understand this properly, we need to investigate where Elric was last seen. That could give us clues about Seraya and the nature of what we're dealing with."
Silence fell for a few seconds, heavy with possibilities. Arion approached the window and looked at the city spreading below. Paris still seemed normal, but he knew that around any corner, a painting could come to life, and hidden signs could be waiting to be deciphered.
"Alright," he finally said. "So we change the route. First, Elric's country. But we have to be careful. We don't know what we're dealing with."
"Not at all," Lior replied with a half-smile. "But at least now we have a concrete starting point. Something beyond whispers, notebook notes, strange streets… and the words of a possible living painting."
Arion nodded. Despite the fatigue, he felt a thread of hope. A thread that could lead him back to Seraya.
Arion sighed, sitting across from Lior.
"You know, Lior," he began hesitantly, "I never understood how our friends managed to go on with their lives after Seraya disappeared. How could they continue as if nothing had happened? I… I felt completely lost."
Lior looked away, taking a deep breath.
"We were very young, Arion. Some tried to protect themselves, pretending nothing had happened. But over time, we started talking about it; some decided to go to therapy, and life became easier. Talking about her became easier. But… the truth is, a lot of people were hurt by you."
Arion raised an eyebrow.
"Hurt by me?"
"Yes," Lior said, with a touch of irony. "Liana, my sister, for example. She thought you were the first to forget Seraya, even before she truly disappeared. She said you seemed… hypocritical. Seraya had already been acting strange for months, everyone could see it. You two were inseparable! How didn't you notice? Liana thought you chose your career over her."
Arion swallowed hard, feeling a weight he hadn't touched in a long time.
"I… I didn't know," he said almost in a whisper. "I never wanted to forget her. I was busy, yes, with my career, but I never stopped caring. And it hurts to think they believed I could just erase everything."
"We can't always control how others perceive us," Lior replied, softening his voice. "But I'm glad we're here now, trying to understand together. At least the two of us know what really matters."
Arion nodded, feeling a thread of relief pass through his chest. It was strange, but comforting, to have someone there who understood not only the mystery but also the story they shared.
They spent the night reorganizing the itinerary, gathering information about Elric Vaël, the last places he had been seen, and drawing up a plan to investigate the artist's disappearance.