They stood before a small, solitary cottage on the far outskirts of the city.

  ?It was a world away from the vibrant gardens and polished stone of central Oryndel. Here, the colors of the "City of Flowers" had faded into grey. The paint on the wooden walls was peeling like dead skin, and the small front garden—once likely a place of beauty—was now choked with dry weeds and withered stalks. It looked less like a home and more like a tomb.

  ?"This should be the place," Zaek said quietly, his gaze sweeping the perimeter.

  ?According to the records Ivar had provided, this was where Lassandra’s family lived.

  ?That means... behind this door...

  ?Aelira took a deep breath. It was shaky, rattling in her chest. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

  ?Will she be surprised? Will she hug me like she used to?

  ?She slowly raised her hand. Her knuckles grazed the rough, splintered wood.

  ?Knock. Knock.

  ?The sound was hollow. Silence followed—long, stretching seconds that felt like hours. Then, the slow, agonizing scrape of a latch being drawn. The door creaked open, revealing the dim, stagnant darkness within.

  ?An old woman stood there.

  ?She was hunched over, her weight leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden cane. Her hair was thin and white as gossamer, and her face was a map of deep, sorrowful wrinkles. She looked frail enough to be shattered by a stiff breeze.

  ?Aelira blinked, her breath catching.

  ?She is... so old.

  ?Lassandra was young. Her mother shouldn't look like this. Unless... unless time and grief had been exceptionally cruel to her.

  ?The woman squinted at them, her eyes cloudy with cataracts.

  ?"How can I help you?" Her voice was a rasping whisper, dry as autumn leaves.

  ?"Are... are you Flora?" Aelira asked, her own voice trembling.

  ?"Hmm. That's right."

  ?"I... I was going to ask if Lassandra was inside."

  ?The woman froze.

  ?"L-Lassandra?"

  ?A flicker of haunting life returned to her dull eyes—a volatile mix of desperate hope and crushing fear. Her grip on the cane tightened until her knuckles turned a ghostly white.

  ?"Yes. If you could tell us..."

  ?"Who might you be?" Flora interrupted, her tone shifting. The frailty vanished, replaced by a sharp, defensive edge. "Why are you asking for my daughter?"

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  ?Aelira hesitated. She reached up and lowered her hood, letting the dim evening light fall on her silver hair and ice-blue eyes—the unmistakable mark of the Viremont bloodline. She offered a small, hopeful smile, the one she had practiced in her head a thousand times.

  ?"I’m Aelira. Aelira Viremont."

  ?Clatter.

  ?The cane slipped from Flora's hands and hit the floorboards.

  ?The old woman didn't move to pick it up. She stared at Aelira, her pupils dilating until they were circles of pure horror. Her breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps.

  ?"Viremont... you say?"

  ?Aelira’s smile faltered. She glanced at Zaek, hoping for guidance, but he was watching the woman with narrowed, calculating eyes.

  ?"Are you okay?" Aelira took a step forward, reaching out a hand. "Ms. Flora, I—"

  ?"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

  ?The scream tore from Flora's throat, raw and piercing. She stumbled back into the shadows of the cottage, grabbing a heavy ceramic vase from a nearby shelf and hurling it with a strength born of pure hysteria.

  ?Smash!

  ?The vase shattered at Aelira's feet, shards of clay biting into her boots. Aelira jumped back, her mind reeling.

  ?"Huh?"

  ?"You..." Flora pointed a shaking, skeletal finger at her, her face twisted in a mask of agonizing fury. "You bloodsuckers!"

  ?"B-bloodsuckers?"

  ?"What have you done to my daughter?!" Flora wailed, tears carving paths through the dust on her face. "The letters stopped! The money stopped! Six years of silence! And now you come here to ask me for her?! With what face?!"

  ?She collapsed to her knees, sobbing into her gnarled hands.

  ?"Give her back! Give me back my daughter!"

  ?Aelira stood frozen amidst the shards. The words hit her harder than any physical blow could.

  ?"W-what are you talking about...?" she whispered, her blood turning to ice. "We... we were told she came back here. My mother said she was sent home..."

  ?"Came back? She never came back! She will never..." The sentence broke into a jagged sob. Flora collapsed further onto the dirt floor, her body shaking violently. "She is gone... my girl is gone..."

  ?Aelira’s hand remained half-extended in the air. She wanted to reach out, to comfort her, to scream that there must be a mistake. But the words died in her throat, choked by the realization of the lie she had lived in.

  ?"Get out!" Flora screamed through her tears, not even looking up. "You monsters... haven't you taken enough?"

  ?Monsters.

  ?The word struck Aelira like a physical blade. It stung her chest, sharper than any training sword Lysric had ever used.

  ?"I-I don't... I didn't mean to..." Aelira stammered, her vision blurring.

  ?Suddenly, heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel behind them.

  ?"Flora?!"

  ?A man rushed into the yard—Marcus. He was burly, wearing rough work clothes, his face flushed with alarm. He saw the broken vase, the sobbing woman, and the two strangers standing over her.

  ?He didn't hesitate. He stepped between them, shielding Flora with his broad shoulders, his eyes burning with a protective rage.

  ?"What do you think you're doing to her?!" he roared, glaring at Zaek and Aelira.

  ?"We were just asking about Lassandra..." Aelira tried to find her voice.

  ?"Lassandra?" The man's anger faltered for a second, replaced by a flash of deep, weary pity. He turned and knelt beside Flora, wrapping an arm around her. "It's okay, Flora. I'm here."

  ?He looked back at them. His eyes were hard, filled with the same deep-seated resentment Aelira had seen in the beggars of Illagas.

  ?"You've done enough damage here," he spat, his voice low and dangerous. "Leave. Now."

  ?Aelira stepped forward, desperate. "But I-I just—"

  ?A heavy hand clamped firmly onto her shoulder.

  ?"That's enough."

  ?Zaek’s voice was calm, but there was an underlying finality to it. He wasn't looking at Marcus; he was looking at Aelira’s trembling form.

  ?"It is better if we leave now, kid."

  ?He turned her around, guiding her away with a gentle but unyielding grip.

  ?As she was led back down the overgrown path, Aelira cast one last look over her shoulder. Marcus was helping Flora to her feet. The old woman’s wails were still drifting through the air, haunting the quiet garden.

  ?She never came back.

  ?The words echoed in Aelira's mind with every heartbeat, shattering the comfortable lie she had carried for six years. Her world hadn't just changed; it had been rewritten in blood and silence.