Edenus 6th Avenue

It was morning.

Emily had been awake for a while—not because she couldn't sleep, but because when she got home the night before, exhaustion had taken her like a switch turning off. She didn't even remember fully pulling the blanket over herself before everything went dark.

Now she sat on her bed, wrapped in it, phone in hand, scrolling without really seeing anything.

The room was quiet in the way only early mornings in shared houses could be—soft footsteps somewhere down the hall, distant movement that didn't belong to her yet.

Then—

The door burst open.

"Little gremlin—don't fall."

Ethan Stiles stumbled in, barely balancing a breakfast tray in his small hands.

"I'm not a gremlin!" he protested immediately, catching himself just before the tray tilted.

Emily didn't even look up from her phone. "You literally run like one every morning."

Ethan grinned like that was not a problem at all and carefully placed the tray onto her lap, pressing it down against her blanket-covered thighs like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"There. Breakfast delivery service."

Emily finally glanced down. "You're going to spill this one day."

"Not today."

"You said that yesterday."

Ethan ignored that and climbed onto the bed anyway, crawling across the blanket until he was sitting right beside her, shoulder pressed into her arm like he belonged there more than anywhere else in the house.

He immediately reached for the food.

Emily nudged his hand away. "That's mine."

"I helped carry it."

"You almost dropped it."

"I didn't drop it."

"You almost became a statistic."

Ethan laughed through his mouthful of air, swinging his legs against the mattress.

Emily sighed, but there was no real frustration in it. Just familiarity. She broke a piece of bread and ate slowly, watching him more than her phone now.

Ethan leaned back into her blanket, sinking into it like it was the softest thing he had ever known.

"Your bed is way better than mine," he said.

"Because you're not allowed in yours," Emily replied.

"I want to sleep here."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you'll turn it into a war zone."

Ethan paused like he was considering this seriously. Then, without warning, he snatched a piece of her bread and bolted off the bed.

"Hey—Ethan!"

"I'm stealing it!"

"You are not surviving this house long term," Emily called after him, sitting up slightly.

Ethan scrambled off the bed and disappeared under it instead, giggling like he had discovered a secret world.

"I'm the monster under your bed!" his voice echoed from below.

Emily leaned over the edge. "Of course you are."

From somewhere deeper in the house, a voice cut through the noise.

"Ethan. Bath time."

It was Levi Stiles.

Ethan froze for half a second.

Then immediately crawled further under the bed like that would make him invisible.

Emily shook her head. "That's not how hiding works."

A knock came at her door.

Before she could answer, it opened.

Levi stood there, older, calmer, already carrying the weight of responsibility in the way he filled the doorway.

"Have you seen Ethan?"

Emily pointed casually under the bed. "He's currently a professional monster."

Levi didn't react much. He just walked in, crouched down, and reached under the bed with practiced ease.

Ethan squealed as he was pulled out.

"Stop fighting," Levi said flatly, lifting him over his shoulder like it was routine.

"I am resisting oppression!" Ethan shouted.

"You're eight."

"I am a free creature!"

Emily leaned back against her pillows, watching them. "He's not wrong, you know."

Levi looked at her briefly. "Dad said we should get ready."

That was all he needed to say.

The shift in tone was immediate—not dramatic, but noticeable. Like the house itself had a schedule it quietly obeyed.

Ethan stopped kicking for a second.

Then resumed immediately.

"I don't want to get ready."

Levi turned to leave with him still over his shoulder. "Doesn't matter."

Ethan stretched one arm toward Emily dramatically. "Save me!"

Emily waved lazily. "You ate my bread. You're on your own."

Ethan gasped like this was betrayal of the highest order.

"Traitor!"

The door shut behind them.

Silence returned.

Emily sat there for a moment longer, then exhaled and let herself fall back into the bed again, staring at the ceiling. For a few seconds, she didn't move.

Just breathed.

Then she shifted under the blanket, pulling it higher, as if trying to reclaim the calm before the rest of the house fully woke up.

Emily finished the last few bites of her breakfast before setting the tray aside. The room fell quiet again.

She stretched her arms over her head before climbing off the bed and walking toward her wardrobe. Pulling out a simple outfit for the day, she changed while a playlist played softly from her phone, the familiar songs filling the room with a comforting rhythm.

Once she was dressed, she stood in front of the mirror for a moment, adjusting the collar of her shirt before running her fingers through her hair. Satisfied, she picked up her phone and snapped a couple of pictures of herself.

"...That one's terrible."

She laughed quietly to herself, deleted the first one, then took another before slipping the phone into her pocket.

A sudden knock startled her.

"Emmy! Why did you lock the dooooor?" Ethan's voice echoed from the other side.

Emily placed a hand over her chest, letting out a small sigh.

"You scared me."

"I'm dressing up," she replied.

"Let me in, sis!"

Emily smiled to herself before unlocking the door.

The moment it opened, Ethan slipped inside like he had been waiting for permission his entire life.

He stopped in the middle of the room and took a dramatic sniff.

"Wow..."

Emily raised an eyebrow.

"It smells nice."

She laughed.

"Thank you."

Before Ethan could begin wandering around the room, Emily scooped him up into her arms with practiced ease.

"Come on, little gremlin."

"I'm not a gremlin."

"You've spent the whole morning proving otherwise."

Ethan pouted.

"I have not."

"You absolutely have."

She adjusted him on her hip as they walked out of the room together.

"We're going to be late," Emily said. "Dad doesn't like that."

They headed downstairs.

Levi was already waiting near the front door with a bag slung over one shoulder, looking as though he had been ready for several minutes already.

Before anyone could say anything, a loud horn echoed from outside.

Emily smiled.

"Seems Aleister is here."

She opened the front door, and the cool morning air drifted inside.

The truck was parked outside the house.

Emily set Ethan back onto the ground.

The little boy immediately sprinted toward it.

"Slow down!" Emily called after him.

Naturally, he ignored her.

Levi caught up first, effortlessly lifting Ethan before he could try climbing into the back himself.

"I can do it!" Ethan complained, kicking his legs dramatically.

"I know," Levi answered calmly.

"Then let me!"

"You'll fall."

"I won't!"

Levi simply placed him safely into the back of the truck anyway.

Aleister, already sitting there, caught Ethan before he toppled over.

"There he is," Aleister laughed.

Ethan immediately spotted something.

"Ahhh! Uncle Aleister!"

"What?"

"You've got a new tattoo on your neck!"

Aleister chuckled.

"You noticed already?"

"Let me see it!"

Ethan leaned closer, trying to inspect it from every possible angle.

"Whoa..."

Aleister laughed again.

"You're a wild one, huh?"

Meanwhile, Emily finished locking the front door before walking toward the truck.

Levi had moved around to the driver's side.

Inside sat Magra behind the wheel, one hand resting comfortably on it.

Levi smiled.

"It's nice to see you learning how to drive, Magra."

Magra grinned proudly, patting the dashboard.

"I can't have my brother enjoying this bad boy all by himself."

Levi shook his head with a quiet smile.

Emily climbed into the back beside Aleister just as Ethan continued examining the tattoo with endless fascination.

"I still think dragons would've looked cooler," Ethan declared confidently.

Aleister burst into laughter.

"I'll keep that in mind for the next one."

Everyone settled into their seats.

The engine rumbled to life.

Slowly, the truck pulled away from the house and began making its way toward the Edenus Foundation.

Edenus Foundation was well known for its vast open fields filled with different kinds of plants. Even from a distance, the land felt unusually alive—rows of greenery stretching across wide spaces, and the silhouette of the Hill of Edenus rising gently in the background like a quiet landmark watching over everything.

As they approached, the truck took a turn through the main gates of the Foundation.

Inside, the world opened up.

A long corn-lined path stretched forward, guiding them deeper into the grounds. On either side were houses and barnyards, arranged neatly across the land. Some members were already outside, busy harvesting or tending to their work, while others sat in small groups chatting under the soft morning light.

It didn't feel rushed. It felt… settled.

A peaceful morning in motion.

The truck rolled further in, eventually reaching the central area of the Foundation where the Hall of Communion stood.

Several cars were already parked nearby, and people were slowly gathering—some adjusting their clothes, others speaking quietly before entering.

Magra slowed the truck.

"Alright buddy—it's time to get off," Aleister said.

Ethan immediately shifted away from Emily, as if the words alone had activated him. He clambered toward Aleister, who lifted him easily before handing him down to Levi, already standing outside the vehicle.

Emily stepped out next, followed by Magra.

Magra tossed the keys casually toward Aleister.

"Don't be late," she said.

"I can't make any promises," Aleister replied with a grin as he slid back into the driver's seat.

Ethan, already restless again, started struggling in Levi's arms.

"Hey Levi, let go—I wanna go with Uncle Aleister!"

Levi didn't even react.

"You heard him," he said calmly. "I've got somewhere to be. Maybe next time."

Aleister closed the car door behind him.

Ethan pouted dramatically as Levi set him down.

Before he could run off again, Emily scooped him back up with practiced ease.

"C'mon. Let's go," she said.

"Byee Uncle Aleister!" Ethan called, waving wildly.

Aleister leaned slightly out the window.

"Stay out of trouble, kid."

Ethan tried to wink back at him—but only one eye closed properly, the other refusing to cooperate.

Emily laughed softly as they walked forward.

They moved through the gathering crowd, passing several people along the way.

"Emily, how have you been?" a woman said as she passed, gently touching Ethan's cheek.

"Aww, he's cute."

Ethan immediately squinted, leaning away as if the interaction had been a surprise attack.

Once they were past her, he rubbed his cheek vigorously.

"I still don't like people touching my cheeks," he muttered.

"You still don't like anything touching your cheeks," Emily replied, lightly tapping his face as she held him.

Ethan reached up and tried to do the same to her.

They walked like that for a moment—half teasing, half routine affection—before entering the Hall of Communion.

Inside, the space was already filling.

Rows of people moved toward their seats, some talking quietly, others settling into place. The atmosphere was calm, structured, familiar.

Emily scanned the hall, looking for seats near the back.

She had just spotted a few when Ethan suddenly shifted in her arms.

"Let me down," he said quickly.

Before she could stop him, he slipped free and landed on his feet.

"I see Dad," he said.

"Ethan—"

But he was already running.

"Wait—"

Emily pushed through the crowd after him, weaving between people as she tried not to lose sight of him.

She bumped lightly into a few members, offering quick apologies before stepping past them.

By the time she cleared the last group, her eyes finally found him.

Near the front seats, Ethan had already reached Alexander Stiles.

He was on one knee, brushing a few strands of Ethan's hair aside as the boy hugged him tightly. Beside them, an older man seated nearby laughed as Ethan gave him an enthusiastic fist bump.

Emily slowed her steps.

Alexander lifted his gaze.

For a moment, it felt like he noticed her before she even fully arrived.

Then he smiled.

Emily walked closer.

"I see he actually found you," she said, slightly out of breath.

"I told you it was Dad," Ethan replied proudly.

Emily looked at him, then back to Alexander.

"Morning, Dad."

Alexander stood, pulling her into a brief hug.

"Morning, my little angel."

They separated gently.

"I saved you some seats," he said.

"Thanks, Dad."

Before Emily could sit, Ethan grabbed her hand and tugged her forward toward the seats, already impatient to settle in.

Alexander watched them for a moment longer, still smiling.s

Kingsmere 2th Avenue

Matt Mathens was already running through the grand estates, his footsteps steady against the smooth pavement. The tree-lined avenues stretched ahead of him in long, controlled symmetry, branches arching overhead like they had been arranged with intent rather than nature.

There was almost no traffic.

Only the distant presence of private security guards stationed at intervals—still, observant, and unbothered by the passing of someone like him.

Kingsmere was not a place that rushed.

It was a place that expected you to move correctly.

Matt's breathing remained controlled as he continued his route. His pace was consistent, not hurried, not relaxed—measured, like everything else in his life.

He passed a gated estate where a gardener was already trimming hedges with surgical precision. Further ahead, an older man in formal wear stepped out of a residence and nodded once in acknowledgment as Matt ran by.

No one stopped him.

No one needed to.

In Kingsmere, recognition was silent.

After a final stretch down a curved avenue bordered by tall hedges and iron fencing, Matt slowed his pace.

The Silver Teapot Café sat at the corner of a quiet junction, its exterior understated but maintained with careful attention. It was the kind of place that didn't advertise its importance—it didn't need to.

Matt stepped inside.

The atmosphere was calm. Almost empty, as expected.

Behind the counter, the barista looked up without surprise.

"Morning, Mr. Mathens," he said.

"Morning," Matt replied simply.

There was no menu exchange, no hesitation.

The barista already knew.

While coffee was prepared, Matt glanced briefly through the café window. Kingsmere moved outside like a distant, orderly world—quiet cars, slow morning light, and perfectly maintained streets that seemed resistant to disorder.

When the coffee was placed on the counter, a beef pie was added on top without asking.

Just the way he liked it.

Matt took it with a small nod.

He stepped back outside and sat at his usual table.

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of morning air and distant movement. He ate slowly, not because he was relaxed, but because he was intentional. Even rest had structure.

Then, movement caught his attention.

A girl jogging down the avenue.

She ran with uneven pacing, her rhythm inconsistent—slightly too fast for a few steps, then slowing abruptly before pushing forward again. Music played through her earphones, but it didn't seem to synchronize her movements. If anything, she looked slightly out of sync with her own body, like she was running against something internal rather than the road itself.

Matt watched her briefly, not with curiosity, but with quiet observation.

Then his attention shifted away.

Kingsmere continued its morning as if nothing unusual had passed through it.

Then a Aston Martin DB11 parked next to him, the door's swung open.

A woman stepped out first.

Beatrice Whitmore was impeccably dressed, as always. A crisp white blouse hugged neatly beneath a fitted charcoal pencil skirt that reached just below the knee, the fabric tailored with the precision of bespoke craftsmanship. Every crease sat exactly where it belonged, as though wrinkles simply refused to exist in her presence.

Black leather heels clicked softly against the pavement as she rounded the front of the Aston Martin with practiced grace. Her long golden hair flowed almost to her waist, perfectly brushed and secured at either side with understated black ribbons that kept it from ever appearing untidy.

She wore no jewellery beyond a discreet silver watch and a pair of small pearl earrings. There was nothing extravagant about her appearance, yet everything about it suggested discipline, refinement, and quiet prestige.

White gloves rested neatly in one hand, reserved for when duty required them. Her posture remained perfectly straight, shoulders relaxed, chin level—a woman who had spent years serving one of Kingsmere's oldest families and carried herself with the dignity of the position.

Anyone unfamiliar with the Mathens household might have mistaken her for a corporate executive.

Those who knew better recognized her immediately.

Beatrice Whitmore.

Matt's personal butler.

She walked towards him carrying a black book and stood before him.

"Morning, sir," Beatrice said, her eyes briefly scanning him as if confirming he was already within acceptable parameters for the day.

Matt finished the last of his coffee before replying.

"Morning."

His gaze moved briefly to the car, noting its condition out of habit more than concern, then back to her.

"Today is the family meeting, sir. It would be wise to prepare while there's still time," Beatrice said.

"Sit down, Bea," Matt replied.

Without hesitation, she lowered herself into the seat beside him—no surprise, no resistance, as if the instruction had already been expected.

"What is it, sir?" she asked.

Matt didn't look at her immediately. His eyes stayed forward for a moment, as though organizing thoughts rather than reacting to them.

"Did Billie arrive home safely?" he asked.

"Yes, she did. I personally drove her home yesterday evening," Beatrice replied. "As for Natasha, she was drunk—but nothing bad, nor anything you wouldn't want, happened to her."

Matt exhaled lightly, more thought than emotion.

He stood.

Beatrice stood immediately after him.

Not copying him—simply aligned with him.

He walked toward the car.

On the way, he passed the same jogging girl again in the distance. She was still running, still uneven in her rhythm, still slightly out of sync with the morning around her.

Matt opened the door for Beatrice.

She entered without comment.

He closed it gently.

"Clean now," he said. "Thanks."

Then he slid into the driver's seat.

The engine started.

The Aston Martin DB11 came alive with a deep, controlled vibration that echoed through the quiet streets of Kingsmere like something powerful being held carefully in place.

And then they drove.

Edenus 10th Avenue

Morning sunlight spilled through the kitchen windows as Billie Kagon finished preparing what would become dinner for her uncle and younger cousin later that evening. She placed the last pot onto the stove, checked the heat one final time, then nodded to herself in satisfaction.

Unlike most mornings, she was already dressed. A neatly pressed outfit suitable for the Mathens family gathering replaced her usual casual clothes. Her purse rested by the door, waiting. She picked it up and stepped into the sitting room.

Her uncle sat comfortably on the couch watching a soccer match while her younger cousin occupied the other end, eyes fixed on the television.

"The food for later is already prepared," Billie said. "I'll see you this evening."

"Alright. Have a good day," her uncle replied without looking away from the match.

"Bye, Billie!" her cousin called.

She smiled, waved once, and stepped outside.

The streets were still waking as she began making her way toward the Mathens estate. Matt had made it clear he didn't want her attending the family meeting. Andrew, however, had invited her personally.

Matt had chosen to live only a short drive from the Mathens residence—close enough to arrive whenever duty demanded, yet far enough that family visits were never spontaneous. The distance wasn't accidental. It was a boundary, one that allowed him to separate the life he had built from the one he had inherited.

Morning light spilled through the tall windows of his bedroom, illuminating the quiet elegance of the room. A charcoal suit rested neatly against his shoulders as he stood before a full-length mirror, carefully adjusting the knot of his dark tie. His movements were precise, almost methodical, though the tie seemed determined to resist him this morning.

Standing a respectful distance away, Beatrice Whitmore glanced down at the leather notebook in her hands before turning a page.

"It seems most of the family will be attending today's meeting, sir," she said calmly.

Matt's eyes remained fixed on his reflection as he loosened the knot once more.

"Who, specifically?"

Beatrice skimmed the list.

"Mr. Thomas Mathens... Mrs. Mavis Mathens... Miss Belladonna Mathens..." She paused briefly before continuing. "Along with the other immediate members of the family."

Matt's hands stopped for the briefest moment before he finished tightening the knot. His expression barely changed, but Beatrice had served him long enough to notice the subtle shift. Something about hearing those names always carried a weight he never acknowledged aloud. After studying his reflection one final time, he gave a small nod.

"That'll do."

He reached for his watch, fastened it around his wrist, and walked past Beatrice toward the front entrance.

"I should be going."

"Sir..." Beatrice called gently.

Matt paused.

"You haven't had breakfast."

Without turning around, he slipped on his gloves.

"Don't worry yourself."

There was no harshness in his voice—only quiet certainty.

He stepped outside into the crisp morning air. Waiting at the end of the driveway was his Aston Martin, its polished body reflecting the pale sunlight. As he opened the driver's door, he glanced back toward the house.

Beatrice still stood beneath the entrance portico, hands folded neatly before her. When their eyes met, she offered a small, familiar wave. Matt returned it with the faintest inclination of his head before settling into the driver's seat.

Moments later, the engine came to life. The Aston Martin rolled down the long driveway and disappeared beyond the gates, leaving Beatrice standing quietly at the entrance until the car was no longer in sight.

On the other side of Kingsmere, Billie stepped out of the cab and closed the door behind her. As the vehicle disappeared down the road, silence settled around her.

She looked up.

Perched high upon the hills, the Mathens residence rose above the surrounding landscape like an old castle watching over Kingsmere. Even from a distance, its sheer scale was impossible to ignore. Towering stone walls, elegant architecture, and sprawling grounds gave it a commanding presence that seemed to overlook the town itself.

The Mathens family had lived in Havenfall for generations. Long before many of Kingsmere's oldest streets had earned their names, the Mathens estate had already stood upon the hill. It was more than a home—it was a landmark, one every resident recognized.

For a moment, Billie simply stood there, taking it all in.

I wonder what it's really like inside...

After a quiet breath, she began making her way up the road leading to the estate.

The closer she came, the larger it seemed.

I hope Matt doesn't get mad at me for coming.

Her steps slowed ever so slightly.

I don't want something happening between us because of me... but I don't really have a choice. Andrew invited me himself.

She remembered the warmth in Andrew's smile at the seaside party.

I can't make a bad first impression on Matt's older brother.

A gentle breeze brushed across the hillside, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and flowering trees that lined the road. Billie instinctively glanced down at herself, smoothing the creases from her dress before running her fingers through her hair. She had already checked her appearance several times before leaving home, yet suddenly every loose strand felt out of place.

"Please..." she murmured under her breath with a nervous smile. "Let today go well."

Somehow, the walk seemed shorter than she'd expected.

One moment she was making her way up the hill, and the next she found herself standing before the towering wrought-iron gates of the Mathens residence.

Beyond them stretched a long stone driveway leading toward the magnificent estate, while immaculately kept gardens framed either side like something from a painting.

Billie swallowed.

Her stomach tightened into knots—not because she was ill, but because the reality of where she was finally settled over her.

She had arrived.

Billie had barely reached the towering wrought-iron gates of the Mathens residence when two uniformed guards stepped into her path, blocking the entrance.

The estate stretched far beyond them, its stone walls disappearing into rows of ancient trees that surrounded the property. Beyond the gates, a long driveway climbed the hill toward the grand residence, where luxury vehicles occasionally disappeared from view before reappearing between the trees.

"I'm here for the family meeting," Billie said politely, offering a hopeful smile. "Andrew Mathens invited me yesterday."

The male guard remained expressionless.

"Miss, today's gathering is restricted to members of the Mathens family and approved guests."

"I am an approved guest," Billie replied quickly. "Andrew invited me himself."

The female guard glanced down at the list in her hand before looking back at Billie.

"Your name isn't on today's guest register."

Billie's smile faltered.

"There must be some mistake."

"There isn't."

The female guard folded the list shut.

"I'm afraid we can't allow you to enter."

The male guard took a single step forward—not threatening, merely reinforcing the boundary.

"I'm going to ask you to move away from the gate, miss."

The excitement Billie had carried all morning slowly faded.

"...I understand."

She took a few reluctant steps back, hugging her phone against her chest as she looked toward the enormous estate.

Maybe... maybe I should just go home.

Perhaps Matt had been right.

Perhaps coming here had only complicated everything.

She lowered her eyes to her phone, debating whether she should send Andrew a message or quietly leave before anyone noticed she had been there.

The low growl of an approaching engine interrupted her thoughts.

A sleek Aston Martin climbed the hill before slowing to a stop before the gates.

The guards immediately straightened.

The male guard pressed a control beside the gate, and the heavy iron doors began to swing inward. As the car rolled forward, Matt glanced toward the entrance.

His eyes settled on a familiar figure standing beside the stone wall.

He frowned.

"...Billie?"

She looked up.

For a brief second, relief washed across her face.

Then she saw his expression.

Not anger.

Frustration.

She hurried toward the passenger-side window as it lowered.

"Morning, Matt."

There was a nervous smile on her face, one that disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared.

Matt studied her for a moment before looking ahead again.

"Get in."

Billie blinked.

"...What?"

"I said," he repeated quietly, "get in."

There was no irritation in his voice.

No shouting.

Only the calm tone he used when he'd already made a decision.

Billie quickly opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

As the Aston Martin pulled through the gates, she caught the female guard watching her from behind.

The look wasn't welcoming.

Billie had the uncomfortable feeling that she had just earned herself a permanent place on that woman's list of troublesome visitors.

The gates closed behind them with a heavy metallic sound.

Silence settled inside the car.

The driveway wound gently through beautifully maintained gardens, towering oak trees, and fountains that shimmered beneath the morning sun. Staff members moved efficiently between different parts of the estate, preparing for the arrival of the family, while luxury cars continued arriving one after another.

Matt kept both hands on the steering wheel.

His eyes never left the road.

"I told you not to come."

Billie lowered her gaze.

"I'm sorry..."

She hesitated.

"...I'm sor—"

"Sorry."

Matt let out a quiet breath.

"Sorry is all you ever seem to say."

His voice wasn't loud.

If anything, it had become softer.

"I wasn't trying to make things difficult," Billie said carefully. "Andrew invited me. I didn't think—"

"I know."

Matt interrupted without looking at her.

"I know Andrew invited you."

The silence that followed felt even heavier than before. The car passed another section of the estate where a distinguished man stood beside a black sedan, speaking to two young children who laughed as they chased one another across the lawn.

Thomas Mathens.

Matt barely glanced in their direction before continuing up the driveway.

"This isn't the place for you today," he said at last.

"There are too many things happening already."

Billie folded her hands together in her lap.

"I just... I didn't want to disappoint Andrew."

Matt turned his head slightly.
His expression remained unreadable.
Then he looked back at the road.

Neither of them spoke again.

Moments later, the Aston Martin came to a smooth stop before the grand entrance of the Mathens residence. Servants stood waiting beneath the stone portico as more guests continued to arrive.

Matt stepped out of the car, buttoned his suit jacket, and looked toward the house.

For a moment, he seemed completely focused on the meeting ahead. Then he glanced at his watch.

Only then did he remember Billie was still inside.

Without opening the passenger door, he spoke evenly.

"Billie."

She quickly climbed out.

"I'm coming."

Once she reached him, Matt took her hand without a word.

His grip was firm but natural, the kind expected of a couple arriving together.

Whether he held it for her comfort... or because appearances mattered today... Billie couldn't tell.

Together, they walked toward the entrance of the Mathens residence, where the day's gathering—and whatever awaited inside—was about to begin.

Edenus Foundation

The sermon had come to an end.

For a brief moment, the Hall of Communion remained silent.

Then chairs scraped softly across the wooden floor as people rose to their feet. Conversations slowly returned, filling the hall with the familiar warmth of another peaceful Saturday morning. Families greeted one another, children hurried toward the exit, and friends lingered to exchange a few final words before leaving.

Alexander stepped down from the stage, greeting members of the congregation with the same gentle smile he always wore.

"Alex, I loved today's sermon," a middle-aged man said as he approached, extending a hand. "It made me realize there's a lot about my life I still need to change. I think... I'll be spending more time here."

Alexander smiled warmly and shook his hand.

"I'm glad today's message reached your heart."

The man thanked him once more before disappearing into the slowly thinning crowd.

One by one, the members left the Hall of Communion.

The voices grew quieter.

A child laughed somewhere outside.

Someone called out a cheerful goodbye.

Soon...

Only silence remained.

Alexander stood alone near the front of the hall.

His eyes drifted toward the open doorway.

Beyond it, the great tree upon Edenus Hill stretched proudly against the bright morning sky, its enormous branches swaying gently in the breeze.

Beautiful.

Timeless.

Then...

Laughter.

Soft.

Barely louder than the wind.

Alexander frowned.

Children...?

No.

He knew that laugh.

Emily.

He would have recognized it anywhere.

Without thinking, he took a step toward the doorway.

The sunlight beyond it shimmered.

The air felt strangely lighter.

Another step.

The sound of the hall behind him faded until it no longer existed.

When he blinked...

The Foundation was gone.

He stood beneath the great Edenus Tree. Golden light filtered through its enormous branches, dancing across the grass below.

Emily stood only a short distance away.

She looked happier than he had ever seen her, smiling with a childlike excitement that warmed his heart.

"Dad..." she called softly, holding out a hand.

"Come."

Alexander found himself smiling.

He walked toward her.

Beside Emily stood a man Alexander had never seen before.

He wasn't dressed like a priest.

Nor did he resemble any member of the Foundation.

There was nothing remarkable about his appearance.

Yet standing near him felt... significant.

The stranger regarded Alexander with a calm smile.

"When the time comes..." he said gently, "...there is someone who will complete what you've begun."

Alexander's expression shifted.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

The man merely smiled.

"You'll meet them when faith has carried you far enough."

"...Alexander."

The voice was suddenly close.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

His surroundings shattered like disturbed water.

The Hall of Communion returned.

The chatter outside.

The wooden floor.

The morning light through the doorway.

Alexander turned.

Aleister stood beside him.

"I've gathered the unclean," Aleister said.

Alexander remained silent for a moment.

His eyes drifted once more toward Edenus Hill beyond the doorway.

The great tree stood exactly where it always had.

Still.

Peaceful.

"...Alright," Alexander finally said, a faint smile forming on his face. "I'll meet you there."

As Aleister walked away, Alexander remained standing for another second.

He couldn't explain what he had just seen.

But one thought lingered quietly in his mind.

Perhaps... we're closer than I realized.

----

Emily walked beside Magra while Ethan darted around the open field behind them, determinedly chasing a chicken that seemed just as determined not to be caught.

"Ethan!" Emily called, unable to hide her smile. "You'll scare it to death."

"I almost got it!" Ethan shouted back before tripping over his own feet, quickly scrambling up again as though nothing had happened.

Emily sighed.

"Can you keep an eye on him for me? I'm pretty sure he still wants to stay."

"Don't worry," Magra replied, watching Ethan with an amused smile. "He'll probably spend the rest of the day following Aleister around. Since he's working the farm today, Ethan won't be leaving his side."

She rested a reassuring hand on Emily's shoulder.

"Go. He'll be alright."

Emily looked back one last time.

Ethan had somehow managed to corner the poor chicken. He hugged it triumphantly while Magra burst into laughter at the ridiculous sight.

Emily couldn't help smiling.

Yeah... he'll be fine.

She turned and continued toward the Foundation's entrance.

The road to the main gate cut through an enormous cornfield, the rows stretching so far into the distance they almost swallowed the horizon. The wind rolled gently across the tops of the corn, producing a soft rustling that seemed to travel endlessly through the field.

It always took longer to leave the Foundation than people remembered.

Halfway down the path—

A scream.
Loud.
Sharp.

Human.

Emily stopped.

Another second passed.

She pushed into the corn, forcing stalks aside as she hurried toward where the sound had come from.

"Hello?"

No answer.

She moved deeper.

Finally she found someone.

A young man stood among the rows harvesting corn into a woven basket.

He looked up.

"Oh... hey, Emily."

She frowned.

"I heard someone scream."

The man blinked.

Then gave a small laugh.

"Oh... that was me."

Emily looked around.

"You screamed?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged.

"You know... sometimes you just have to let it all out."

He smiled.

It looked perfectly normal.

Then...

His smile slowly disappeared.

His eyes drifted past Emily, focusing on something behind her.

His expression became strangely distant.

Almost... as though he were listening.

Several seconds passed.

Emily glanced over her shoulder.

There was no one there.

When she looked back, the man was smiling again.

"So..." he said casually, "...where was I?"

Emily hesitated.

"You said... you screamed."

"Oh."

He nodded.

"Right."

Without warning—

"AAAAAHHH!"

The scream exploded from him.

Emily jumped, her heart pounding.

The man immediately burst into laughter.

"See?" he said, breathing normally as if nothing had happened. "Feels better."

Emily forced out an awkward smile.

"...Right."

She slowly backed away.

As she turned to leave, she heard him speaking again.

Quietly.

Too quietly to make out the words.

She glanced back.

He was alone.

Standing completely still among the corn.

Looking at nothing.

Emily stared for another second before shaking off the strange feeling.

"I really have to go..."

She left the field.

The screams never came again.

By the time she reached the Foundation gates, the peaceful morning had returned as though nothing unusual had happened.

She slipped a folded letter from her pocket.

The paper was worn from being opened more than once.

It was the letter the Hole of Havenfall had given her yesterday.

Taking a slow breath, Emily unfolded it once more and began to read.

----

Emily,

Good morning.

I hope you smiled when you opened this.

I wonder if you're still pretending you aren't curious about me.

Today, I'd like to ask you for a small favor.

When you have time, visit Kafka Cemetery.

There is an old tree there.

You'll know it when you see it.

Carve our initials into its trunk.

E + H.

Don't worry if it feels a little strange.

Some promises are easier to keep when they're left where only the wind remembers them.

After you've done that, go home.

Live your day.

Laugh if something makes you laugh.

Eat something you enjoy.

Then...

Come back tonight.

When the clock reaches midnight, sit beneath the same tree.

Stay with me until you fall asleep.

I promise you won't be alone.

I'll be waiting.

— H

Hill of Edenus

Cyrus stood outside Nova's house with one earbud tucked into his ear, quietly listening to music as he leaned against the fence. His gaze drifted beyond the rooftops toward the distant silhouette of Edenus Hill. Even from here, the great tree stood proudly against the morning sky, its enormous branches visible above the rest of Havenfall.

The peaceful morning suited him.

Footsteps approached.

"Hey, Cyrus." Nova smiled as she stepped out of the house, closing the gate behind her. "I'm glad you made it. I thought you'd be busy."

Cyrus slipped his phone into his pocket.

"Today's Saturday," he replied with a small shrug. "It's the best day to do absolutely nothing."

Nova laughed.

"I wish yesterday had been like that."

The two began walking down the quiet street, neither of them in any particular hurry.

"You won't believe the kind of day I had yesterday," Nova said excitedly. "Me and the others visited the Rollercoaster Park."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't know the Rollercoaster Park was open."

Nova rolled her eyes.

"Haha, don't be sarcastic, Cyrus. We both know it's abandoned."

"Yeah," he said with a faint grin. "I do."

Nova continued anyway.

"We ended up going into the basement, and then the whole place started collapsing. I seriously thought we were going to die. Somehow Emily managed to get us out before everything came crashing down."

She became more animated as she spoke, waving her hands while replaying the events in her mind. Without realizing it, she stopped paying attention to where she was walking.

Cyrus listened quietly.

Before either of them noticed, the streets had become quieter.

The familiar sounds of the town slowly faded behind them.

Nova kept talking.

"...and then Anthony was panicking, Simon didn't know what to do—"

A whisper interrupted her thoughts.

Keep walking.

Her voice caught in her throat.

The whisper came again.

Keep walking.

She continued taking another step.

Then another.

She never noticed the ground disappearing beneath her feet.

A firm hand suddenly grabbed her wrist.

"The last time people jumped into this hole..." Cyrus said calmly, "...we never saw them again."

Nova blinked.

Her eyes widened.

She quickly stepped back and finally looked up. The enormous Hole of Havenfall stretched before them, disappearing into endless darkness.

A cold shiver ran through her body.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, her voice echoing into the abyss.

Cyrus didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he looked down into the Hole.

"I've been asking myself that."

Nova frowned.

"...What?"

"I don't know why people come here."

She looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Cyrus gestured toward the endless darkness below.

"People always say the Hole calls them."

"...Yeah."

"But what does that actually mean?"

Nova remained silent.

Cyrus kept staring into the abyss.

"No one ever asks why. One day they just... get a feeling. Then they come here."

The wind drifted quietly between them.

Nova rubbed her arms.

"Can we just leave?" she muttered. "This place gives me the creeps."

A small smile appeared on Cyrus's face.

"You're sounding like Emily."

Nova let out a nervous laugh.

"Maybe Emily has a point."

For another moment Cyrus simply watched the darkness below.

"Do you know," he said quietly, "only one person ever climbed back out after jumping into the Hole."

Nova looked at him.

"Who?"

"He was called Mike..."

Cyrus frowned, trying to remember.

"...something."

"I forgot his surname."

"What happened to him?"

Cyrus shrugged.

"No one knows."

Silence settled between them again.

"Ehh..." Nova sighed. "I think we should leave. I don't want another weird day."

Cyrus finally stepped away from the edge.

"Last time I remembered, you're new in Havenfall."

Nova looked at him.

"What are you on about now?"

"You lived somewhere else before you came here."

"I did."

"Where?"

"Ravenport."

Cyrus nodded thoughtfully.

"Do they have a Hole in Ravenport too?"

Nova actually stopped to think.

After a few seconds she slowly shook her head.

"Not that I know of."

"Then you weren't born from a Hole."

Nova looked at him as if he had said the most random thing imaginable.

"I was born in a hospital," she replied, laughing. "Don't make this weird."

"I'm asking because a few days ago..." Cyrus said matter-of-factly, "...a baby came out of this Hole."

Nova barely reacted.
She simply shrugged.

"Isn't that normal?"

Cyrus looked at her.

"We all have different ways of being born."

For a brief moment he simply stared at her. Something about that answer didn't sit right.

He couldn't explain why.

Then, just as quickly, the thought slipped away. A faint smile returned to his face.

"I'm guessing you're looking forward to your mum giving you a little brother from the Hole too."

Nova frowned.

"What?"

She looked at him, genuinely unsure whether he was joking or being serious.

Cyrus chuckled to himself.

"Never mind."

He slipped both hands into his pockets and turned away from the Hole.

"Come on."

He glanced back at her.

"If you don't mind..."

"...let me show you a little more of Havenfall."

Nova smiled.

"Lead the way."

Together, they walked away from the Hole, leaving the silent abyss behind them as though it had never been there at all.

Kingsmere Mathens Estate

The moment Matt and Billie stepped into the Mathens residence, they were welcomed by the familiar bustle that accompanied every family gathering.

Servants and waiters moved effortlessly through the grand entrance hall, balancing silver trays filled with drinks and freshly prepared pastries as they disappeared into adjoining rooms. The aroma of roasted meats, baked bread, and sweet desserts drifted through the air, while distant conversations echoed beneath the high ceilings. Family portraits watched over the hall from polished wooden walls, reminding every visitor just how many generations had called the estate home.

Matt paused for a moment, quietly observing the room as though deciding where to begin.

Before he could take another step—

"Ahhhh! Matt! Matt!"

A cheerful voice cut through the noise.

A woman appeared seemingly from nowhere, a half-eaten slice of pie balanced carelessly in one hand.

"Mavis..."

Matt sighed almost immediately.

Mavis Mathens paid no attention to his reaction. Dressed elegantly despite the crumbs threatening to fall from her dessert, she hurried toward them with the unstoppable enthusiasm of someone who never believed in walking when running was an option.

"You actually came!" she exclaimed, looking Matt up and down with exaggerated suspicion. "Now I'm curious... what did they have to promise you this time?"

Matt folded his hands behind his back.

"I wasn't aware attendance had become negotiable."

"Oh, please." Mavis laughed. "If anyone in this family could find a way to avoid these meetings, it'd be you."

Before Matt could answer, Mavis's attention shifted completely.

Her eyes widened.

"You must be Billie Kagon!"

Billie blinked in surprise.

"I... yes."

Without the slightest hesitation, Mavis took Billie's hand into both of hers and planted an affectionate kiss across her knuckles.

"What a pleasure!" she beamed. "I'm Mavis Mathens the Fourth."

She leaned closer with a playful grin.

"Did you know Matt is Matt Mathens the Sixth?"

Billie looked toward Matt, who already seemed to know exactly where this conversation was heading.

Mavis lowered her voice into an exaggerated whisper.

"Honestly... he acts more like the Second."

Billie couldn't help smiling.

Matt simply closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"Mavis..."

"What?" she replied innocently.

"I'm only speaking the truth."

She stole another bite of her pie before glancing toward Matt again.

"Oh..."

She tilted her head thoughtfully.

"He's in one of those moods."

Billie looked between them.

"What do you mean?"

Mavis leaned close enough that only Billie could hear.

"I think Belladonna's already here."

She glanced dramatically toward Matt before whispering again.

"Don't worry."

A mischievous smile spread across her face.

"We'll escape before she finds us."

Before Billie had the chance to respond, Mavis had already linked their arms together.

"Come on!"

She gently tugged Billie away.

"I'm borrowing her for a little while, little brother."

Matt watched the two of them without attempting to stop them.

He had long since learned that stopping Mavis once she had decided on something was usually a waste of effort.

As they disappeared deeper into the residence, Mavis raised her voice loud enough for half the hall to hear.

"Let's go see what fooooood they've made!"

Several guests turned to look.

A nearby waiter smiled to himself.

Matt remained where he stood for another moment, watching the pair weave effortlessly through the growing crowd until they vanished among the arriving members of the Mathens family.

Only then did he let out a quiet breath and continue further into the house alone.

With Billie now wandering somewhere through the estate alongside Mavis, Matt found himself alone once again.

He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and wandered through the grand ballroom at an unhurried pace. Around him, members of the Mathens family greeted one another with warm embraces, servants carried silver trays laden with drinks, and waiters moved effortlessly between clusters of guests engaged in animated conversation.

It had been years since the estate had felt this full.

As he reached one of the refreshment tables, a familiar voice called from behind him.

"Oh, Matt."

Matt turned.

Thomas Mathens the Third stood nearby, dressed in a dark navy suit with a glass of red wine already in his hand. Unlike most members of the family, Thomas always carried himself with an easy confidence, the kind that came from someone who never felt the need to compete for attention.

"You actually made it," Thomas said with an amused smile.

Matt returned the faintest smile.

"Yeah..."

"I did."

Thomas picked up another crystal glass from a passing waiter's tray before holding it toward him.

"Kingsmere's finest."

Matt accepted it with a small nod. He raised the glass, took a measured sip, and immediately recognized the taste.

"My favourite."

Thomas chuckled.

"I knew it would be."

For a moment they simply stood together, watching more guests arrive through the entrance hall.

"We haven't seen each other in quite a while," Thomas remarked.

"You know how this family is," Matt replied calmly.

"Everyone's busy living their own lives."

Thomas laughed quietly.

"And you, out of everyone, seem happiest when no one interrupts yours."

Matt took another sip before answering.

"My peace is already ruined."

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Matt looked around the crowded ballroom.

"Andrew decides to call a family meeting without warning..."

"...and suddenly everyone drops whatever they're were doing."

Thomas stared at him for a second.

Then he laughed.

"No, no..."

He shook his head.

"You've got that part wrong."

Matt looked at him.

"This wasn't Andrew."

"It wasn't?"

Thomas smiled knowingly before taking another sip of his wine.

"This is Belladonna."

Matt's expression barely changed, but Thomas noticed the slight narrowing of his eyes.

"I see."

Almost immediately, Matt's thoughts began fitting the pieces together.

"If Belladonna called everyone here..."

"...then this isn't just another family gathering."

His voice became quieter.

"This is about the inheritance."

Thomas smiled.

"And leadership."

Matt nodded once.

"So that's what this is."

Thomas didn't answer.

Instead, his eyes drifted past Matt's shoulder toward the far end of the ballroom.

The easy smile slowly disappeared from his face.

"You might want to turn around."

Matt frowned slightly.

He followed Thomas's gaze.

Slowly...

He turned toward the grand staircase.

The grand ballroom had not fallen silent because the music had stopped.

It had fallen silent because she had appeared.

At the top of the sweeping marble staircase stood a woman draped in a floor-length black gown that seemed to drink in every strand of light around her. The fabric flowed like liquid shadow, embracing her statuesque figure before cascading behind her in elegant folds. Every measured movement caused the silk to shift with quiet grace, as though the dress itself understood the importance of its wearer.

Her hair was no longer hidden beneath a hat.

It flowed freely.

Impossibly long, midnight black with a faint natural sheen, it fell past her waist and almost brushed the backs of her knees. Loose waves framed a face that seemed carved from perfection, while the rest moved behind her like a dark veil, following each step with hypnotic elegance.

Her skin was strikingly pale.

Not merely fair, but porcelain white, smooth and luminous beneath the glow of the crystal chandeliers. Against the darkness of her gown, her complexion created a contrast that made her appear almost unreal—like a figure removed from an old family portrait and placed among the living.

She began her descent.

One step.

Then another.

The sound of her heels against the marble floor echoed softly through the ballroom.

Precise.

Deliberate.

She did not rush.

She did not search the room to see who was watching.

She already knew.

Conversations slowly faded into whispers. A waiter carrying a tray instinctively slowed his steps. Guests who had been laughing moments before lowered their voices without realizing it. Champagne glasses remained suspended halfway to waiting lips as attention shifted toward the staircase.

Even the music from the quartet in the corner seemed to fade into the background, unable to compete with the quiet authority of her arrival.

She moved with the confidence of someone who had never questioned whether she belonged.

Every motion was controlled—the slight lift of her chin, the relaxed position of her shoulders, the effortless movement of the black gown following her descent.

There was no hesitation.

No unnecessary adjustment.

No attempt to impress.

Only certainty.

The atmosphere changed around her.

Executives straightened their jackets. Long-standing members of Havenfall's elite exchanged quiet glances. Those who had entered the evening believing themselves to be the most influential people in the room suddenly remembered that influence was not always measured by wealth or reputation.

Some people demanded attention.

Others simply possessed it.

Belladonna Mathens belonged to the second kind.

By the time she reached the final step, a clear path had formed before her.

No one had asked the crowd to move.

No one needed to.

They simply understood.

Her icy gaze swept across the ballroom once.

Calm.

Unemotional.

Commanding.

For a brief moment, it felt as though the entire room waited for her approval before continuing.

From across the ballroom, Matt watched silently.

His expression remained composed, but his attention had sharpened.

Thomas had not needed to explain why everyone had gathered.

The moment Belladonna appeared, Matt understood.

This was not a casual family meeting.

This was a declaration.

Belladonna continued forward, the black silk trailing behind her like a living shadow.

And the Mathens family, along with everyone fortunate—or unfortunate—enough to witness her arrival, was reminded of one simple truth.

Elegance and intimidation could exist in the same person.

Belladonna Mathens embodied both.

Belladonna continued through the ballroom with the same calm authority that had followed her since the moment she appeared.

She stopped when she reached Thomas and Matt.

"Ah, Thomas."

Her eyes moved around the ballroom, taking in the decorations, the arrangements, and the effort that had gone into preparing the estate.

"I must admit, I love what you've done with the place."

Thomas, still holding his glass of wine, looked around casually.

"It's nothing special, Bella."

A faint smile crossed his face.

"Although..."

His eyes moved toward her.

"I do think you may have slightly overdone the entrance."

Belladonna simply looked at him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Thomas laughed quietly.

Before he could say anything else, a small voice interrupted.

"Daddy!"

A young boy hurried toward Thomas.

"Michael is playing with your gun."

The relaxed expression immediately disappeared from Thomas's face.

He looked toward the direction of the voice.

"I see."

He sighed.

"Family gatherings truly bring out the chaos."

He turned back toward Belladonna.

"I suppose I'll be seeing you in the meeting room in five minutes."

With that, Thomas placed his glass down and followed his son, leaving Matt and Belladonna alone.

Matt remained silent.

He had already decided there was no point in pretending he was pleased to be there.

As he began walking away, Belladonna's voice stopped him.

"You're not even going to greet your own sister?"

Matt paused.

Slowly, he looked back.

"We are usually summoned by those who have the authority to do so."

His expression remained calm.

"Not tricked into attending what appears to be an entertainment gathering."

Belladonna studied him.

Not offended.

Not surprised.

Almost amused.

Before she could respond, a loud voice interrupted them.

"Ahhhhh!"

Both of them turned.

Mavis had returned, walking toward them with Billie beside her and still holding a plate of food.

"That dress is beautiful, Bella!"

Mavis looked between Belladonna and her gown while taking another bite of her food.

"I mean, obviously you would choose black. It would be strange if you appeared wearing something cheerful."

Belladonna gave her a brief look.

"Mavis."

"What?"

Mavis smiled innocently.

Billie stood beside her, slightly overwhelmed by the exchange.

Belladonna's attention shifted.

Her eyes moved toward Billie.

"And who is this?"

Billie immediately straightened.

"I'm Billie Kagon."

She offered her hand politely.

"It's nice to meet you."

Before Belladonna could respond, Mavis stepped forward.

"She's my best of best friend."

Matt's attention immediately shifted toward the interaction.

Not because he doubted Billie.

Because he knew exactly how unpredictable Mavis could be.

Belladonna noticed.

Of course, she noticed.

A small, almost unreadable expression crossed her face as she looked between Matt and Billie.

Then she accepted Billie's hand.

"You seem like a fine young woman."

Her gaze briefly moved toward Mavis.

"Although I would advise you not to let her influence you too much."

Mavis gasped.

"Bella!"

But Belladonna had already turned away.

The moment passed, and the atmosphere of the room began to change.

Guests slowly started moving toward the meeting hall.

The conversations became quieter.

The servants began clearing the remaining trays.

The gathering that had felt like a family reunion was transforming into something else.

Something more serious.

Matt looked toward the meeting room entrance.

The reason they had all been called together was waiting.

And now, finally, it was time to find out why.

Emily arrived at Kafka Cemetery as the last traces of daylight began fading from the sky.

The place felt completely detached from the rest of Havenfall. The sounds of the city disappeared the moment she stepped through the gates. No voices, no cars, no footsteps of strangers passing by — only the cold silence of the cemetery and the quiet rustling of the wind moving through the old trees.

The graves stood still beneath the darkening sky, forgotten memories of people who had once walked the same streets she did.

Emily walked deeper into the cemetery, following the path she already knew she had to take. She wasn't afraid. Somehow, this place felt strangely familiar, almost peaceful.

In the center of the cemetery stood the tree.

It was enormous, its branches stretching toward the sky like reaching fingers. But it was completely bare. No leaves decorated its branches. No signs of life remained on it. It stood there alone, watching over the cemetery like a silent guardian.

Emily stopped in front of it.

For a moment, she just stared.

Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a small knife.

A smile appeared on her face.

She placed the blade against the rough bark and slowly began carving. The sound echoed through the empty cemetery, each movement leaving behind a small mark in the old tree.

When she finished, she stepped back.

There it was.

E + H

She looked at the carving quietly, her smile becoming softer.

A strange warmth filled her chest. A memory. A feeling she couldn't explain. Something about those two letters made the entire journey feel worth it.

Before she could stop herself, Emily stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the tree.

She hugged it tightly, resting her head against the rough bark.

"You're still here..." she whispered.

The sky had grown darker now, the last light of the evening disappearing behind the clouds.

Emily eventually pulled away and looked around the cemetery.

"Should I go home and come back at midnight?" she asked out loud.

Her voice echoed back at her.

It almost sounded like she was waiting for someone to answer.

For a few seconds, she stood there silently.

Then she shook her head.

"No."

She smiled slightly.

"I'll stay."

Emily walked back to the tree and sat beneath it, placing her bag beside her. Inside were some food, her phone, and the few things she had brought along for the night.

The cemetery was cold and empty, but she didn't care.

She opened her bag, took out her food, and looked up at the branches above her.

Then, without worrying about whether anyone could hear her, Emily began singing. Her voice was soft, filling the silence that surrounded the cemetery.

A girl sitting alone beneath a dead tree. A name carved into the bark.

A song in a place where nobody was supposed to be. And as night slowly covered Havenfall, Emily stayed there, waiting for whatever was meant to find her.

The meeting room was unlike the lively ballroom they had left behind.

The laughter, music, and clinking glasses had been replaced by an almost uncomfortable silence.

A long mahogany table stretched through the centre of the room beneath an ornate chandelier, its polished surface reflecting the soft glow of the lights above. Tall windows overlooked the gardens of the Mathens estate, though the curtains had been partially drawn, giving the room a secluded, almost solemn atmosphere.

One by one, members of the Mathens family took their seats.

Matt remained composed, sitting with his hands folded neatly before him. Across the table, Andrew leaned back comfortably, though the seriousness in his eyes betrayed the relaxed posture. Thomas rested one arm on the table with a glass of water before him, while Mavis quietly reached for another biscuit she had somehow managed to bring into the meeting.

Billie hesitated for a brief moment before sitting beside Matt.

As the last chair settled into place, every pair of eyes slowly turned toward the head of the table.

Belladonna rose gracefully.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

She allowed the silence to settle over the room until no one dared disturb it.

Then she spoke.

"We gather today because every one of us carries our own thoughts... regarding Martin's death."

Her calm voice filled the room without needing to be raised.

"I am aware that I, too, have my own reasons for asking everyone to attend this meeting on behalf of our parents."

Her eyes slowly moved from one family member to another.

"We have grieved differently."

"We have searched differently."

"And, as I believe everyone in this room already knows..."

"...we have disagreed."

No one interrupted.

Even Mavis stopped eating.

Belladonna rested both hands lightly on the back of her chair.

"Today, we will speak openly."

"We will address those disagreements."

"And before we leave this room..."

"...we will reach whatever conclusions are necessary."

She looked around the table one final time before quietly taking her seat.

Silence returned.

It lingered only for a moment.

Then Thomas slowly rose to his feet.

Unlike Belladonna's composed authority, Thomas wore the easy smile that had always made him the most approachable among the siblings.

He looked around the table before speaking.

"If I'm being honest..."

"...I don't want anything from today's meeting except one thing."

His smile faded.

"I want Martin's murderer found."

He paused.

"And when that person is found, I want this family to decide together how justice should be carried out."

Several members of the family lowered their eyes.

Thomas let out a quiet breath.

"I know Andrew has devoted himself to the investigation."

His gaze shifted toward his younger brother.

"And no one here doubts your commitment."

He hesitated.

"But..."

"...I think it's fair to say many of us are growing tired of waiting."

The room fell silent once more.

Before Andrew could respond, Matt spoke.

"I agree."

Matt's voice broke the silence.

He looked directly across the table at Andrew.

"Andrew..."

"What have you discovered?"

Andrew folded his hands together before answering.

"So far, we've confirmed three separate locations where traces of Martin's blood were found."

Several members of the family exchanged uneasy glances.

"We're still processing evidence from each location."

"We believe there may be additional clues that haven't yet been uncovered."

Thomas slowly nodded.

"So..."

"We still don't know where he was actually killed."

Andrew shook his head.

"Not yet."

The room fell quiet once more.

Belladonna rested one hand lightly against the table.

"I believe we've spent enough time discussing where Martin died."

Her calm gaze swept across the room.

"Has anyone stopped to ask why someone wanted him dead?"

No one answered immediately.

Belladonna continued.

"To my knowledge..."

"...Martin spent part of his university years associating with drug dealers."

Thomas frowned slightly.

"I remember hearing that."

Before anyone else could speak, Mavis looked up from the food she had somehow managed to sneak into the meeting.

"I thought that only lasted for a little while."

She shrugged.

"I always heard he became obsessed with those conspiracy theories afterwards."

Andrew nodded.

"That's correct."

"The drug dealing didn't last very long."

"In fact..."

"Most of Martin's time was spent researching those theories."

"He became completely absorbed by them."

The room grew thoughtful.

No one seemed entirely sure what to make of it.

Then, quietly—

"Does anyone know where he used to study them?"

Every head turned.

Billie immediately realized she had spoken aloud.

For a brief moment, she wished she hadn't.

Belladonna regarded her silently.

The room waited.

"What makes you ask that?"

Billie hesitated only briefly before answering.

"If we know where Martin spent most of his time researching..."

"...we might discover who he met."

"Or what he found."

Her eyes moved around the table.

"If those conspiracy theories became such a large part of his life..."

"...then perhaps the places connected to them could tell us something the current investigation hasn't."

Silence followed.

Not dismissive silence.

Thoughtful silence.

Andrew leaned back slightly.

Thomas slowly nodded to himself.

Even Matt looked toward Billie with quiet approval.

Belladonna continued watching her for another moment before speaking.

"An interesting line of thought."

Her voice remained as composed as ever.

"Continue."

Billie took a careful breath.

"It might help us understand not only who wanted Martin dead..."

"...but why."

The room became quiet once again.

For the first time since entering the meeting, Billie no longer felt like a guest.

She had become part of the discussion.

Billie looked around the table, gathering her thoughts.

"If we can find the places where Martin spent his time researching those theories..."

"...we may discover what he became involved in."

She paused.

"And perhaps..."

"...who became his enemy."

Mavis immediately nodded.

"Exactly."

She pointed a biscuit toward Billie.

"People don't just become someone's enemy for no reason."

"If Martin kept returning to those places, then somebody there probably knew him better than we do."

Andrew rested his elbows on the table, thinking.

Thomas slowly nodded.

"I only know of two places where he spent most of his time."

Matt looked toward him.

"I'd like to know where they are."

"So would I," Andrew added.

"If there's even the smallest chance they can help the investigation, we'll search them immediately."

Belladonna quietly observed the discussion.

For the first time since the meeting had begun, the room seemed united.

She allowed the conversation to settle before speaking once more.

"It appears we've all reached the same conclusion."

"The search for Martin's murderer remains our highest priority."

Her voice remained calm and measured.

"However..."

"That is not the only reason I asked everyone to gather today."

Several members of the family looked toward her.

Belladonna folded her hands neatly before her.

"There is another matter that cannot be postponed forever."

She paused briefly.

"Martin left behind responsibilities."

"Someone will eventually have to assume them."

The room immediately became quieter.

"I believe it is time we begin discussing who that person should be."

Before anyone else could respond—

"We're not doing that."

Matt's voice was calm, but left no room for misunderstanding.

He slowly rose from his chair.

Every eye turned toward him.

"I would rather postpone that discussion."

He looked directly at Belladonna.

"Right now, our attention belongs elsewhere."

His voice remained steady.

"We should focus on finding Martin's murderer."

"When justice has been served..."

"...then we can discuss everything Martin left behind."

Silence followed.

Thomas looked between the two siblings before standing as well.

"I agree with Matt."

He folded his arms comfortably.

"If we begin dividing responsibilities while the investigation is still ongoing..."

"...we'll only divide our attention."

He glanced around the table.

"We're trying to solve two problems at once."

"Let's solve the first one."

"The second will still be waiting for us afterwards."

Several members of the family quietly considered his words.

For the first time since the meeting had begun, the room felt less divided than before.

All eyes slowly returned to Belladonna, waiting to hear her response.

Belladonna's eyes rested on Matt for a long moment.

Then they shifted toward Thomas.

A faint smile, almost impossible to notice, appeared across her face.

"It seems the two of you discussed this before today's meeting."

Neither brother answered.

Belladonna's attention finally settled on Andrew.

"And you?"

She asked calmly.

"Do you agree with their decision?"

Andrew leaned back in his chair, considering the question.

After a moment, he gave a small nod.

"I don't believe I have any reason to disagree."

"If our priority is finding Martin's murderer..."

"...then everything else can wait."

Belladonna looked around the table one final time.

No one objected.

No one wished to continue the discussion.

"Very well."

She rose gracefully from her chair.

"Then this meeting is adjourned."

She smoothed the sleeve of her black gown before adding,

"I imagine it won't be long before we find ourselves gathered here again."

Without another word, Belladonna walked toward the door.

One by one, the remaining members of the family began leaving the meeting room.

The formal atmosphere that had settled over the gathering slowly dissolved back into the relaxed conversations of a family reunited.

Mavis was the first to stand.

Without giving Billie any warning, she wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Come on!"

"I've got something fun to show you."

Before Billie could protest, Mavis had already led her out of the room.

Matt watched them disappear before returning his attention to Andrew and Thomas.

"So..."

Thomas folded his arms.

"Those two places."

Andrew nodded.

For the next several minutes, the three brothers quietly discussed the locations Martin had frequently visited during his obsession with conspiracy theories. Every street name, abandoned building and forgotten meeting place was committed to memory.

If there was even the slightest chance one of them held the answer to Martin's death, they intended to search them all.

Eventually, the conversation came to an end.

"I'll have people begin looking first thing tomorrow," Andrew said.

Matt nodded.

"Let me know what you find."

With that, the brothers separated.

Matt stepped into the corridor.

The residence had become noticeably quieter now that the meeting was over. Some members of the family had returned to the ballroom, while others wandered through the halls in small groups, enjoying each other's company for the first time in months.

He looked around.

Billie was nowhere to be seen.

A passing servant noticed him searching.

"I believe Miss Mavis took the young lady upstairs, sir."

Matt thanked him with a nod before making his way through the upper floor.

As he approached one of the rooms, an unfamiliar scent reached him.

His brow furrowed.

A pale green smoke drifted lazily through the partially open doorway.

The smell was strong enough to sting his nose.

Without hesitation, Matt pushed the door open.

The room was hazy, its furniture barely visible through the thick cloud hanging in the air.

Near the window sat Mavis, perfectly relaxed, looking as though nothing about the situation was unusual.

On the nearby sofa, Billie lay slumped against the cushions.

Her cheeks were flushed.

Her eyes were only half open.

She looked up as Matt entered, trying to focus on him.

"...Matt?"

Her words came out slower than usual.

Matt immediately understood.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Mavis."

"What?"

She smiled innocently.

"I only wanted her to relax."

Matt let out a quiet sigh.

Without another word, he crossed the room and gently helped Billie to her feet.

She leaned against him almost immediately, too unsteady to stand on her own.

"I think..."

She mumbled sleepily.

"...your sister is funny."

"I know," Matt replied.

"And she's also a terrible influence."

Mavis laughed loudly behind them.

"I heard that!"

Matt ignored her.

Supporting Billie carefully, he guided her through the halls and out of the Mathens residence.

The evening air was cool against their faces as they reached his car.

He opened the passenger door, helped Billie inside, then quietly closed it behind her.

As the engine came to life, he glanced once toward the brightly lit residence.

Inside, the remaining Mathens siblings had decided to spend the evening together.

Matt, however, had somewhere else he needed to be.

Without another word, he drove away from the estate.

Kafka Cemetery

Night had completely consumed Havenfall.

Cyrus lay motionless in the bushes beside the Hole of Havenfall, barely moving as the cold air passed through the trees.

He had been there for hours.

His eyes remained fixed on the strange formation in front of him — the place that had changed everything. The place that seemed to know things it shouldn't know.

The Hole of Havenfall stood silently beneath the darkness, waiting.

Cyrus had no idea what he was expecting to find.

A person.

A creature.

An answer.

Anything.

Then finally, movement.

A figure emerged from the darkness.

Cyrus immediately lowered himself further into the bushes, careful not to disturb even a single branch.

The person stepped closer to the Hole.

It was Anthony Matthews.

Cyrus narrowed his eyes.

"Anthony..." he whispered.

He watched as Anthony stood there silently, almost like he had done this before. He didn't seem surprised. He didn't seem afraid.

Then the ground beneath the Hole began to move.

The familiar sound of stone shifting filled the air as the surface opened, and a small platform rose from beneath the earth.

Resting on it was a single letter.

Cyrus watched carefully.

Anthony reached down and picked it up.

But he didn't open it.

That was what bothered Cyrus.

Anyone else would have wanted to know what was inside. Anyone else would have ripped it open immediately.

But Anthony simply held the letter and walked away.

Cyrus waited a few seconds before following.

Not too close.

Never too close.

Every step was calculated. Every movement was controlled.

Anthony never looked back.

The journey through Havenfall continued in silence until Cyrus realized where they were going.

Kafka Cemetery.

Cyrus stopped for a moment.

Why here?

He watched Anthony enter through the old gates and followed from a distance, keeping himself hidden among the shadows.

The cemetery was almost completely dark.

The only light came from the moon above.

Then Cyrus saw her.

A girl.

She sat beneath the large dead tree in the center of the cemetery.

From where he was standing, he couldn't see her face clearly.

He didn't know who she was.

But something about the scene felt familiar.

Anthony approached the tree quietly.

Cyrus watched as he placed the letter beside the girl.

He didn't say anything.

He didn't wake her.

He didn't explain.

He simply left.

Cyrus remained hidden, watching Anthony disappear into the darkness.

Then his eyes returned to the girl beneath the tree.

The carving on the bark caught his attention.

Two letters.

Two names.

E + H

The wind moved through the cemetery.

The girl continued sitting there, unaware that someone was watching.

And Cyrus stood silently in the shadows, staring at a mystery he didn't understand.

A letter.

Anthony.

The Hole of Havenfall.

And a girl waiting beneath a dead tree.

For the first time, Cyrus realized something.



The Hole wasn't just giving people things. It was connecting them.