The boy couldn’t breathe.Aria knew before she even pushed through the crowd outside the healer’s hall. People always looked the same when death was near. Eyes too wide. Mouths are too tight. That desperate, quiet hope that maybe someone else would know what to do. Maybe someone else could fix it before they had to admit it was real.“Move.”Her voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. The crowd split anyway.Inside, a young man lay on one of the wooden treatment tables. Twenty, maybe younger. Sweat glued his hair to his forehead and his chest jerked up and down like every breath was a fight he wasn’t sure he’d win.His mother Aria guessed she was his mother and held his hand so hard her knuckles went white. When she saw Aria she grabbed onto her eyes instead. “Please,” she whispered. “Please save him.”Aria didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t care. Because promises could kill you.She stepped closer. The room smelled like crushed herbs, sweat, fear, and something sour underneath

Aria didn't sleep that night. Again. The note sat on her desk like a small, ordinary thing, but was impossible to ignore. If anyone is reading this, the official report is incomplete. Aria studied the note for the third time. It had no signature. It had no clues. It had nothing but seven words that destroyed her certainty. Someone had been in the records room. Someone had looked at Liam's file, and, for some reason, that was worse than the note. Because Liam was in her memories and in her heart. He wasn't for anyone else. When Nyra found Aria the next day, she was drinking cold tea. “You look terrible.” “Good morning to you too.” Nyra sat. “Did you sleep?" “No.” “I can tell.” Aria looked at her. “You say that every time.” “Because every time it's true.” Aria almost smiled. Almost, until her eyes went back to the note. Nyra didn't miss it. “What is it?” Aria considered lying. No. She was showing it to her. Nyra read it twice and raised her brows. “That's not unsettling at all.” Aria si

Aria read the note four times. Same line every time: She isn’t supposed to remember.It was hard to process. Not because the words were complicated. Because the author wrote “she” like Aria wasn’t in the room. Like she was a piece on a gameboard someone else was moving. That feeling made her skin crawl.Nyra broke the silence first. “Okay.”Rowan took the note from Aria. He stood there, tense, staring at it like it might change if he looked hard enough. “Same handwriting.”Aria nodded. Same author. But why? How had they gotten close enough to leave a note for them?“Daren,” Aria said the name out loud.Rowan looked up. “What about him?”He tensed. Dropped his gaze. Got lost in thought. That wasn’t for no reason. Something had made him terrified. Liam. The silver marks. The questions Aria wasn’t supposed to ask.Aria hated that memory. It was obvious Daren wasn’t afraid of a sick man. He was afraid of someone who knew things. Someone who knew too much.Rowan stood up. Aria knew that m

Aria had seen death before. Too many times.It came in all kinds. Quiet ones. Violent ones. The ones you saw coming from a mile away. The ones that blindsided you and knocked the air out of your chest.You never got used to it. You just learned how to keep walking after.The forest was too quiet. That creepy, wrong kind of quiet where people start whispering without meaning to, like loud voices might wake something up.Aria walked between the trees with Rowan and two guards. Nyra stuck close behind her. Closer than normal. Aria noticed. Didn’t say anything. Everyone dealt with fear their own way. Nyra was pretending she wasn’t afraid by staying one step behind Aria at all times.“You sure you want to see this?” Rowan asked.Aria didn’t look at him. “Yes.”“You don’t have to.”“I know.”But that wasn’t the point. Daren died because he knew something. Aria felt it in her gut, heavy and certain. And if she wanted answers, she couldn’t keep looking away every time things got ugly. She

For a few seconds, everything stopped. Aria focused on the picture. The rest of the archive faded. The smell of old paper. Rowan’s breathing. Nyra shifting her weight. All gone. There was only this small photo in her hands.Her father was on the left. Elias Voss. In this photo he looked… formative. Not the strained, polite stranger smile from the portraits she grew up with. Not the stiff man who died too young and left grief behind. This was a real family smile. The kind that reached his eyes. The kind Aria barely remembered but her body recognized anyway.The man next to him was a stranger.That made her stomach drop. Because Aria had never seen him before. And he was standing shoulder to shoulder with her father like they were equals.“You know him?” Rowan asked.“No,” she replied. Too quick. Because she wanted it to be true. Aria looked again. Dark coat. Silver ring on his right hand. Sharp face, sharp eyes. The kind of face that looked annoying even when it wasn’t doing anythin