His mother's voice carried on, steady yet weighed down by the past.
"Your father signed the contract, Alex."
The words settled in his chest like iron chains, tightening with every syllable.
"Even knowing it wasn't in our favor, even knowing it left us vulnerable, he signed it."
The screen flickered, her image distorting briefly before stabilizing.
"Because we had no choice."
Alex's fingers curled into fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms, deep enough to draw blood.
No choice.
That's how desperate we were.
The word desperate rang in his head like a hammer against steel. Over and over. A hollow, mocking echo.
Desperate enough to sign away their future on terms that could have doomed the clans in any case of a serious beast tide.
....
"This was five years ago. she continued"
His breath hitched.
Five years
"After the deal was sealed, I focused all my efforts on the portal."
There was a faint exhaustion in her voice, the kind that went beyond mere fatigue—the exhaustion of fighting against time itself.
"I had already made progress, but with time running out, I had to complete it no matter the cost."
Alex could picture it.
His mother, hunched over blueprints and half-finished prototypes, fingers smudged with ink and energy residue. Her once-pristine robes wrinkled, dark circles framing her sharp eyes.
She had always been like that.
Always pushing past her limits.
Always fighting for their survival.
"A year after the deal was signed, I succeeded."
Something in his stomach twisted.
"The portal was stable. It worked."
A portal. A way out.
Alex's breath grew shallow.
"It led to a world beyond this one—somewhere untouched by the Higher Clans."
A world where they could have been safe.
A world where they could have lived.
The idea of it felt cruel now. A salvation that never came.
His vision blurred. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.
"And your father…"
A hesitation.
A hesitation that sent a bolt of unease through him.
"He was the first to go through."
Alex's grip tightened on the edge of the console.
"He left for a month."
The moment she said it, memories slammed into him.
He remembered.
The whispers.
The uncertainty.
The silence of the council, their expressions unreadable.
No one had known where his father had gone.
Not even his mother had explained back then.
No one said anything, because his mom already assured everyone that nothing bad had happened, and he will be back soon.
....
"But there was a problem," his mother said, her voice dropping lower.
A chill slid down his spine.
A problem.
His mind raced.
What kind of problem?
What had gone wrong?
His mother inhaled slowly, as if bracing herself.
"After a month…"
Alex's breath caught.
"Your father came back."
A silence stretched between them—one that felt vast, suffocating, foreboding.
And then—
"Half dead."
A shudder ripped through him.
His pulse pounded in his ears.
His father—the strongest warrior he had ever known—had barely returned alive.
His throat went dry.
Half dead.
The words clung to the air, wrapping around his mind like a vice, squeezing until he could barely think.
He remembered it now.
The night his father returned.
The way the clan was on high alert
His feet had moved before his mind could process the horror in front of him.
His father had been unrecognizable when they saw him.
Deep gashes carved through his flesh, the metal of his armor torn and barely clinging together.
One arm had been twisted at an unnatural angle, his fingers twitching but unable to move.
His breathing had been ragged, labored, as if every inhale was a battle he was losing.
But the worst part—
His eyes.
His father had always been unshakable.
A man who faced death with unyielding defiance.
But that night…
His father's eyes had been filled with something Alex had never seen before.
Dread.
Fear.
Like he had witnessed something beyond comprehension.
Like he had barely escaped with his life.
Alex's entire body trembled as he stared at the screen.
His mother's voice returned—calm, steady, but laced with quiet sorrow.
"And that's when we knew…"
The screen flickered again.
Her following words sent a chill deep into his bones.
"We had made a mistake."