Something twisted in his stomach as the world around him dissolved. The snowy forest blurred, and when clarity returned, he found himself standing outside the towering walls of Ruvy.
He blinked, then scratched his head and glanced around. With a quiet exhale, he turned away from the city and started walking. Not wanting anything to do with the capital.
An hour passed in silence before he reached the ocean. There, anchored just offshore, stood the True Wind, its silhouette familiar and unmoved. Zay reached into his pocket and felt the cold shape of the key. He chuckled to himself, a dry, tired sound.
Aura swirled around his legs as he sprinted forward and leapt. One hand reached the ship's railing. He pulled himself up onto the deck with a grunt.
He moved toward the tinted glass that stretched over part of the ship, opened the steel door beneath it, and entered the dim hallway. The corridor was quiet—dusty, undisturbed.
Room by room, he checked, eyes flicking over every detail. Eventually, he made his way down to the small library. The books were still scattered across the floor, exactly where they had fallen.
Zay let out another chuckle, quieter this time.
"I guess... Renzo never came back here," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Is he... fine?"
He swallowed hard, lips pressed into a thin line, then turned and headed back up the staircase. He passed the bedroom without stopping and stepped into the control room.
It was exactly as he remembered.
He walked slowly toward the captain's chair and slumped into it, just like he had over a year ago—back when he and Renzo left Caelondis behind.
Zay sighed, then pressed his hand to the ship's wheel. A soft glow pulsed from the contact point as the True Wind began draining his aura, feeding it through the vessel.
A deep hum vibrated through the ship. The wheel turned sharply under his grip, adjusting the direction towards Ovaris. Zay reached out, pressed the on button, and the engine roared to life. The ship began moving forward, cutting across the open water.
He had been awake for over four days.
His eyes fluttered closed the moment he leaned back into the chair, but reopened his eyes to keep conscious.
—
Rain drummed heavily against the windows, a steady rhythm that filled the quiet of the Yuso household. The downpour blurred the outside world, casting shifting shadows across the living room floor.
Dale sat on the couch in a gray tunic and leather trousers, sighing as he flipped through a newspaper filled with reports of recent disappearances across the continent.
"You all need to stop worrying so much… I know all three of them are fine. Silver's an adventurer with his own team. Renzo and Zay left together over a year ago—they're fine," Dale said as he folded the paper and set it aside.
Across the room, Rosemary sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, the same anxious expression etched onto her face that had haunted her for nearly a year. Lily lay sprawled on the new grey carpet they'd put in a few months ago, her gaze tracing the patterns absently.
'These two… I swear,' Dale thought, glancing toward the armchair near the window where Lyra sat. Rain streaked down the glass beside her, the light casting a faint glow across her long blonde hair, which had fallen over part of her face. She smiled softly, the strands of golden hair framing her features in a way that made her look almost ethereal, and gentle.
Lyra turned her head slowly, her gaze drifting toward the window as the storm outside intensified. The rain fell in sheets, blurring the world beyond, creating a murky veil over the landscape. The low rumble of thunder echoed through the air, and the flash of lightning illuminated the room in stark, electric light, casting fleeting shadows against the walls.
From her place on the floor, Lily shifted, glancing up at Lyra, her expression a mix of curiosity and impatience. Her gaze never left Lyra as she spoke, her voice tinged with the weight of the question that had lingered for so long.
"I know I've asked this a lot, and you've told me every time... but why exactly are you here, Lyra?"
Lyra's eyes, a soft blue like the summer sky, slowly turned away from the storm, her smile warm and gentle. It was a smile that seemed to soften the tension in the room, and she looked down at Lily, her features illuminated briefly by the flickering light from outside. "As I've said... I like Zay a lot... and wanted to get closer to his family."
Lily raised an eyebrow, her posture on the carpet shifting slightly as she leaned her weight on one elbow. "Still... that doesn't explain the one thing you haven't told us... how the hell did you even find us?"
Lyra's smile remained, but it took on a slightly more thoughtful edge. She turned her gaze back to the window, her eyes catching the silver lines of rain as they streaked down the glass, almost as if the storm outside mirrored something inside her. The soft pattering of the rain filled the silence between them before she spoke again, her voice calm and measured.
"That's... a little complicated to explain. But I will tell you this, though," she said, her tone carrying a faint hint of mystery. "I just... saw where he lived... and I came here."
The room seemed to quiet even further as the weight of her words hung in the air, only the sound of the rain filling the space. Lyra then stood with a fluid grace, lifting the hem of her long, red dress slightly to avoid the floor. The fabric shimmered faintly in the dim light as she moved. She gave an elegant, almost practiced bow, the gesture flawless, like a dancer accustomed to performing for an unseen audience.
"I appreciate that you all did take me in when I arrived," she said, her voice soft but sincere, her smile widening as she straightened up. The edges of her blonde hair caught the light as it framed her face, soft tendrils escaping the neat style she had kept it in, making her seem, in that moment, almost innocent.
With a final, warm smile, she lowered herself back into the chair, taking care to adjust her dress so that it draped elegantly around her legs.
As she looked around, her eyes fell upon the paintings adorning the walls, each one a piece she had brought over the past year. She had carefully chosen each painting, each piece representing a memory or a moment she wished to share with the family, a silent offering of herself through art.
Lyra's gaze softened as she took in the first painting. It was a landscape—rolling hills bathed in the golden light of dawn, mist rising from the earth like a soft breath. It had been one of her earliest acquisitions, a piece that reminded her of the peace she'd felt when she first arrived, still a stranger in this place. She had wanted to bring something of beauty, something to symbolize new beginnings.
Her eyes moved to the next painting, a portrait of a woman standing tall beneath a starry sky, her eyes gazing out into the unknown. The strokes were bold, the colors rich and deep, capturing both strength and vulnerability in the same gaze. Lyra smiled softly at the piece, recalling the artist's words when she had purchased it. "It reminds me of you," the artist had said, and though she hadn't fully understood at the time, she found herself agreeing now, a deep connection forming between the woman in the painting and her own journey.
Finally, her eyes fell on the last piece—a still life of flowers, delicate petals caught in a moment of fragile beauty. The colors were muted, but the arrangement was perfect, each flower standing at attention as if waiting for something. It was the most recent addition, a gift to herself after a long year of navigating the complexities of new relationships in a new place. It felt like a reminder of the fragility of time, and the fleeting nature of moments, yet also a celebration of their beauty.
As she looked at the paintings, a soft smile played on her lips, her blue eyes gleaming with quiet fondness. It was strange, she thought—how these simple works of art had come to mean so much to her. They were more than just décor. They were pieces of her, of her journey, each one carrying a story she had yet to fully tell.
Her eyes continued around the living room, landing on the delicate flower vases positioned around the room. Each one held a bouquet of moon daisies, the rare and ethereal flowers that she and Lily had stumbled upon last month during one of their afternoon walks. The moon daisies were known for their shimmering petals that seemed to glow faintly in the dark, almost like they absorbed the very light of the moon itself. Their presence in the room lent an air of elegance, their pale white petals a perfect contrast to the deep green leaves that framed them. Lyra couldn't help but smile as she remembered the moment they had found them—Lily's excited laughter, the sense of discovery, the joy in sharing something so beautiful with someone who appreciated it just as much. It had been a perfect day, and these flowers now added a soft, natural touch to the otherwise modern decor of the room.
Her eyes then drifted toward the bookshelf that stood against the far wall. It wasn't just any bookshelf—it was a curated collection of works she had carefully selected during her visits to bookstores over the past year. She had always loved the smell of old pages, the feel of a well-worn cover in her hands, and the way a good book could transport her to another world. There were books on all kinds of subjects—fiction, philosophy, history, and some rare volumes on art.
Each one had been chosen thoughtfully, representing pieces of knowledge, and subjects she wanted to share with the family. One in particular caught her eye—a small, leather-bound book on forgotten artists. She had bought it just last week, hoping to understand more about the world she had come from, the world she wanted to immerse herself in. The spine was cracked slightly from use, but Lyra liked it that way—books were meant to be lived with, not just admired.
The new furniture that had been added just three months ago. Lyra's heart warmed as she thought back to that day—the outing where they had all gone together, picking out new pieces for the house. It had been a day of laughter, lighthearted arguments over what colors looked best, and a sense of unity that had brought them closer. The new chair and couch sat side by side, the elegant additions to the room.
The fabric was smooth to the touch, a rich grey silk that shimmered faintly in the ambient light. Black linings ran through them in subtle, almost intricate patterns, adding a touch of sophistication to the furniture. They had agreed on these pieces together, a choice that fit the room perfectly, blending with the rest of the decor without overwhelming it. The new items felt like symbols of their shared time, of the bond they had built together as a family.
'They even asked for my opinion on the furniture... that was really sweet,' Lyra thought to herself, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. She raised her right hand, gently brushing the tear away with her thumb before placing her hand back into her lap. She smiled again, the warmth spreading through her as her gaze shifted away from the interior of the house and back to the rain falling outside.
'My Third Sequence... is coming up soon. I do hope I can complete it quickly.' She closed her eyes, the sound of Dale flipping through the newspaper, Rosemary's slow, steady breathing, and Lily's movements on the carpet blending with the steady rhythm of the rain. All of it combined into a soothing backdrop, and somehow, her smile grew even warmer.