The room was dark again.
But this time, it wasn't a dream.
The Riftborn sat still on the stone slab they called a bed. Cold bit through his back and wrists, chains loose around his ankles — as though even they had begun to fear him.
The mark on his chest pulsed gently, like a second heartbeat. Not in pain… but in memory.
Like it remembered something he did not.
The silence of the Isolation Wing wasn't emptiness.
It was watching.
Breathing.
Then the lock turned.
The door groaned open — torchlight stabbing into the dark.
Two guards entered, neither speaking. No commands. No curses.
Just duty. Fearful. Mechanical.
They hauled him up, bound his wrists in rune-stamped steel, and led him through tunnels that smelled not of blood or fire… but of old stone, deep roots, and secrets best left untouched.
He expected another pit. Another test.
But this room was different.
No chains on the walls. No brands glowing.
Just a single post. A circular chamber.
And across from it — already bound — her.
The beastkin.
White-silver hair, tied behind one twitching ear. Golden eyes that didn't flicker.
Her back straight. Her stare, unflinching.
There was no fear in her gaze — only something sharper.
Something older.
He stared.
She stared back.
No one spoke.
Until the guards locked them in and vanished.
Then —
She broke the silence.
"You're still breathing," she said. Almost disappointed.
He let out a breath, dry. "I get that a lot lately."
She studied him. "Do you remember anything?"
He hesitated.
The mark pulsed.
"Flashes," he said. "Neon. Rain. A vending machine… curry bread, maybe."
She blinked slowly. "Strange memory to die with."
"I don't think I died," he replied. "I think I… slipped."
Silence stretched.
Then she said:
"I'm Kaia."
He blinked.
"What?"
"My name," she said again. "Kaia. Daughter of Nhal'Tara. Last blood of the Frostfang Clan."
Her voice was quieter then — not prideful, but rooted, like naming herself was planting a flag in memory.
He repeated it in his mind. Kaia.
Not beastkin. Not just another prisoner.
She carried something wild — something deeper.
Like a memory from the mountains.
"…What about you?" she asked.
He looked away.
His throat tightened.
The mark on his chest bloomed — warm. Not hungry. Not hollow.
Just… alive.
He closed his eyes.
**
Flashback
Rain hammered glass.
A 24-hour konbini. A cracked stool. A tired boy in a hoodie.
Pork bun half-eaten. Game glowing in his hands.
Tokyo hummed outside.
But inside, he was alone.
"Rei."
The name was barely a breath.
Just enough to matter.
**
Return
He opened his eyes.
"I think… I'm Rei."
Kaia's ears twitched. "Just Rei?"
He smiled faintly. "It's a start."
Before the moment could settle—
The door opened.
And Overseer Malrec entered.
He was not tall. Not armored.
But something about him made the air colder.
He smelled of parchment and power, the kind that bleeds empires dry without lifting a blade.
He paced. Measured. Watching.
"The monster speaks. The exile listens. How quaint."
Neither Rei nor Kaia answered.
He stepped between them.
"You're both… anomalies.
But only one of you bleeds in colors I've never charted."
His eyes lingered on Kaia next — longer than before.
"Bloodlines are interesting things. Especially when they echo."
Kaia bared her teeth. "You'll regret this."
Malrec leaned close. "I already regret not breaking you when your Grove still stood."
Rei flinched.
Kaia didn't.
He turned to leave.
Before the door closed, Rei whispered,
"Whatever comes… we face it together."
Kaia didn't nod.
But her golden eyes never left his.
Not this time.