The house didn't look like much at all. It had plain wooden walls, a simple roof, and a size that was unremarkable enough to be easily overlooked by anyone passing by. But when Shawn laid eyes on it, a flood of memories that he thought he had buried came rushing back to him. This wasn't just any house; it was home. It held the warmth of the people who had once filled his life.
Before the memories came rushing back, before he thought about the life he used to have on Starborn Island, he had a different name. He was simply called Three.
Life back then felt uncomplicated.
His mother, Khate, loved to spoil him. She always fussed over whether he had eaten enough or gotten proper sleep. There were times when he wandered too far into the mountains, and Khate would spend hours searching for him. When she finally found him, she wouldn't hold back her anger. She'd scold him, but then she'd pull him into a warm hug that made it all feel okay.
His father, Sigil, was quieter, but Shawn could still remember the day he got into trouble for climbing onto the roof by himself. Sigil had given him a light smack on the backside, and Khate had exploded with anger. She didn't talk to Sigil for nearly a week after that, which meant he ended up sleeping outside until she decided to forgive him. Looking back, that memory made Shawn smile. It felt silly, but it was one of his happiest memories.
As he stood there, though, his smile faded.
He let out a soft whisper.
"…Mother…"
The house was a reminder of everything he had lost. Morgan had destroyed that life. He hadn't been the one to directly kill Khate, but his actions brought ruin to the Starborn Clan. Without him, none of this would have happened.
Shawn's thoughts turned to the woman whose blood had stained the battlefield. He could still picture the blood flowing in streams, moving as if it were alive.
He had learned about blood manipulation during his time in captivity. Morgan had given him access to a lot of books, and one in particular detailed the Fifteen Great Families, the ancient bloodlines that had ruled over humanity. Of all those families, only one had members with blood related abilities: the Orenvast Family.
He whispered the name to himself again, engraving it in his heart.
Shawn understood the line between hatred and recklessness.
The Great Families had been around for thousands of years, their roots deep and strong. They had hundreds of Sovereign Manifest experts, and their legacies were handed down through generations. They weren't enemies he could take on now, or even in the near future.
Until he gained the power to face them, revenge would merely be a thought swirling in his mind.
He turned his eyes back to the little wooden house.
His mother had adored that place. When the weather was nice, she would use her strength to lift the entire house into the air, moving it around as if it were a feather. Sometimes it would overlook the mountains, and sometimes it would be right by the sea. She would always laugh when Shawn complained about having to move everything back into place after one of those flights.
"…So this is what my subconscious chose," Shawn said quietly to himself. A house. He hadn't imagined a grand palace or a busy laboratory where he and Jean had conducted experiments. It was simply home.
Suddenly, he felt a gentle pressure against his hand.
Eva had come up beside him, wrapping her small fingers around his. She didn't ask what was wrong. She was just there, offering silent support.
After a moment of quiet, he managed a faint smile and gently ruffled her hair.
"I'm okay," he reassured her.
Eva nodded, her face lighting up, and together they moved toward the entrance.
From the outside, the house looked small, almost too small for just one room. But as soon as Shawn stepped through the door, he hesitated.
Inside was much larger than expected. The walls seemed to expand farther apart than they should, and the ceiling rose higher, creating a space that prioritized comfort over reality.
"Well, even this place doesn't play by the rules," he remarked, running his fingers along the wooden wall. It felt solid and warm to the touch.
Inside, there was hardly anything at all. He noticed a few windows, one door, and a small wooden sign that read "Welcome Home" hanging near the entrance.
He stared at the sign for a few moments, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.
"Looks like my mind welcomes me more than the outside world does."
Eva giggled in agreement.
"I like it here," she said simply.
"So do I," Shawn replied as he took in the bare room. "But it could use some work."
Eva's eyes lit up with enthusiasm.
"Can we build things?" she asked eagerly.
"Eventually," he said, crossing his arms and glancing at the vacant space as if it were an unfinished blueprint. "If this place will grow alongside me, then maybe it's not just a house. Perhaps it's just the beginning."
With that thought in mind, Shawn slowly closed his eyes and pulled his consciousness away from the mindscape.
The first thing he felt was warmth, but not the warmth of his body. It was an external heat, wrapping him snugly in something thick and soft.
Before he could figure out what it was, a sudden jolt shook his body. He realized he was being dragged across the snow.
With his eyes snapping open to the familiar darkness of his blindness, he strained to hear the crunch of boots trudging through the snow ahead of him.
"What the hell…" he muttered, his voice hoarse from fatigue. "What is happening?"