Rene stood there, her heartbeat pounding against her ribs.
The air felt too thin, as if reality itself had shrunk around her.
Aeris—the mother she had long since buried in her heart—was alive. But that was no longer the most terrifying revelation.
It was what she had done.
She had created Rena.
Not birthed. Created.
And the gods had feared her for it.
Rene swallowed hard, shifting Rena in her arms. The child remained silent, her silver eyes locked on Aeris—watching. Waiting.
Nyra was the first to speak.
Her voice was sharp. Cold. Betrayed.
"You made her," she repeated, the words like a dagger. "Like some kind of—some kind of experiment?"
Aeris didn't flinch.
"I made her because I had to."
Nyra laughed. A bitter, broken sound.
"You had to?" she hissed. "So you made a child? A child the whole damn world is trying to kill?"
Aeris tilted her head. "Would you rather she had never existed?"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Rene felt Nyra tense beside her.
Because they both knew the answer.
No.
Even if this was a mistake. Even if it had put them all in danger.
They could never wish Rena away.
Nyra let out a slow, sharp breath. "You should have told us."
Aeris sighed, but before she could speak—
Lucien stepped forward.
And for the first time, his voice was cold.
"Did you also make me?"
Aeris' silver eyes flickered to him, unreadable.
Rene's breath caught.
Lucien had never asked about his past. Not once. He had always avoided it, dodging questions with smirks and sarcasm.
But now—now he was looking at Aeris as if he had seen a ghost.
Aeris held his gaze for a long moment.
Then she said, softly:
"No, Lucien."
She exhaled. "But I did know you. A long time ago."
Lucien stiffened.
Rene had never seen him look so unsteady.
Nyra narrowed her eyes. "How long ago?"
Aeris didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she reached into her cloak—slowly, carefully—and pulled something from within.
A fragment of something dark.
Shimmering. Alive.
Lucien's eyes widened.
Aeris studied him.
"You once had a different name," she murmured.
Lucien's breathing became shallow.
"Do you remember it?"
He didn't speak.
Didn't move.
But Rene saw it.
The fear in his golden eyes.
Like something deep inside him had been shaken awake.
---
(The Past Never Stays Buried)
The ruins had gone silent again.
Too silent.
The moment stretched on, thick with tension.
And then—
A new voice spoke.
"Well, this is interesting."
Every muscle in Rene's body locked.
That voice—
It was familiar.
But it was impossible.
She turned—slowly, hesitantly—toward the shadows.
And there, stepping forward from the darkness—
Was a man who should have been dead.
Rene's breath caught in her throat.
"…Father?"
Nyra's sharp gasp cut through the air.
Adrian and Adriel went rigid, silver light pulsing at their fingertips.
Even Lucien—who had just been struggling with his own past—snapped his head toward the man, golden eyes narrowing.
The man in front of them looked like their father.
The same silver hair. The same sharp features.
But his eyes—
His eyes were wrong.
Not silver.
Black.
Deep, endless black—like the void had swallowed them whole.
And when he smiled—
Rene felt something inside her break.
"Did you really think you were the only ones being played?" he asked.
And the world around them shattered.
To Be Continued…