12:59 a.m. — Road to the Rossi Mansion
Nicco's black car rolled through the streets of Aarush, wrapped in a heavy silence. The city, asleep and innocent, slid past the windows, unaware of what was coming. Inside the vehicle, the three of them knew—there was no turning back.
Kali sat in the passenger seat, hugging her knees. She looked out the window, but didn't see a thing. Dahlia, in the back, kept her gaze fixed on the side mirror's reflection, as if expecting to see something more than darkness.
"Vero..." Kali whispered at last. "I can't. I can't make it fit. How do you pretend normal after that?"
"You don't pretend," Dahlia replied without looking at them. "You survive."
"I don't get it," Nicco said, his hands tight on the wheel. "She was part of the group. Strong, sarcastic... but loyal."
"That's what she sold us," said Dahlia. "The most dangerous shadows are the ones that make you feel safe."
Kali turned her head, eyes glassy. Her voice came out more broken than she'd meant:
"What if she's always known? What if she already marked us? What if she's just... waiting?"
No one answered. The rest of the ride passed in silence, until the mansion gates opened with a slow mechanical hum and welcomed them with the deceptive calm of ancient walls and cold marble.
...
1:21 a.m. — Rossi Mansion
The butler wasn't there. No one waited for them. The silence felt sacred.
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Kali dropped her backpack in the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, drained. Dahlia did the same but sat at the edge, tense.
"Can you imagine if someone had told us a week ago that we were... walking weapons?" Kali said with a broken smile.
"I feel more like a bomb with no instructions," Dahlia murmured. "Skyler said what's inside me is void. Darkness. That what makes me 'special'... comes from a monster's hatred."
"You're not a monster," Nicco called from the kitchen as he poured water. "Neither of you are."
Dahlia looked at him. Her voice, this time, was softer. Sincere.
"What if we are, and we just don't know it yet?"
Silence returned. But this time, it didn't feel heavy. Just present.
"Come," Nicco said to Kali after a few minutes.
She followed him down the hall to his room. Dahlia stayed behind, climbing the secondary staircase to the guest room. Each step weighed like lead.
...
2:08 a.m. — Guest Room
Dahlia sat on the bed without taking off her shoes. The air smelled of old wood, wax, and a faint perfume that wasn't hers.
She turned on the dim bedside lamp and looked at her hands.
She thought about the symbol in the destroyed village.
The energy she'd felt when rage took over her.
Skyler's words—"you carry the cold."
Darkness isn't always an attack. Sometimes, it's a mirror.
"What part of me is me... and what part is him?" she whispered to the void.
She closed her eyes. Let herself fall backward. She wasn't looking for rest.
Just silence.
...
2:14 a.m. — Nicco's Bedroom
Kali sat on the bed, wearing the Nirvana shirt that had become her emotional uniform. Nicco took off his jacket and dropped it on the chair without a glance.
"Want me to play music?" he offered gently.
"No. I want you to stay," she replied, turning toward him.
Nicco sat beside her. Kali rested her head on his shoulder, in silence.
"What if we're falling apart?" she asked, eyes closed.
"Then we'll fall apart together," he said. "And pick up the pieces."
Kali smiled faintly.
"I didn't think losing someone could scare me this much. Or that what we were... would matter this much."
"We still are," Nicco whispered.
They embraced. No kiss. No heat. Just warmth. Honesty. Protection.
And a weariness that wasn't physical.
It was soul-deep.
...
Elsewhere in the city...
A wine glass clinked on a marble countertop.
Verónica raised it, smiled at the void, and typed on her phone:
"Tomorrow, 5 p.m. Don't be late."
Something flickered in her eyes.
And it wasn't friendship.
It was hunger.
