THE PRIVATE JET SLID THROUGH THE NIGHT SKY, ITS HUM A CONSTANT PULSE THAT MIRRORED THE BEAT OF SIYUN'S HEART (HUMMMMM… THUMP… THUMP…). THE CITY LIGHTS BELOW SHRANK INTO TINY SPARKS, DULL AND DISTANT, AS IF THE WORLD HE KNEW WAS DISSOLVING. HE SAT SILENTLY NEXT TO THE MYSTERIOUS GIRL, HER HAND RESTING NEAR HIS ARM, NOT TOUCHING BUT CLOSE ENOUGH TO ANCHOR HIM TO REALITY.
"FIRST… TAKE SOME REST," SHE SAID SOFTLY, HER VOICE LOW AND CALM, "TOMORROW MORNING, WE WILL BEGIN OUR JOURNEY. YOU WILL NEED YOUR STRENGTH."
HE NODDED, HEAD HEAVY WITH EXHAUSTION. THE EVENTS OF THE PAST WEEKS—BETRAYALS, PAIN, HIS OWN FAILED ATTEMPTS TO STAND AGAINST THE WORLD—CAME CRASHING BACK. YET, WITH HER PRESENCE, HE FELT AN UNEXPECTED CALM. HIS HEART STILL BURNED WITH ANGER, BUT HIS MIND, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MONTHS, FELT SHARP AND FOCUSED.
HE LET HIS HEAD REST AGAINST THE LEATHER SEAT, EYES CLOSED, LISTENING TO THE QUIET (WHOOSH… HUM… DRIP…) OF THE JET'S ENGINE. HE PICTURED THE ROAD HE HAD WALKED, THE BRIDGE, THE RAIN, THE EDGE OF SUICIDE. AND THEN… THE GIRL'S WORDS:
"THAT ANGER, THAT PAIN… IT IS NOT YOUR ENEMY. IT IS YOUR TOOL. LEARN TO WIELD IT."
THE WORDS ECHOED IN HIS MIND LIKE A MANTRA, A SILENT PROMISE THAT HE COULD CONTROL WHAT ONCE CONTROLLED HIM.
HOURS PASSED IN QUIET REFLECTION, AND THE JET LANDED GENTLY AT A PRIVATE AIRPORT NEAR WINDSOR, ENGLAND, THE HISTORIC CITY CASTING SHADOWS UNDER A DIM, SILVERY MOON. THE NIGHT AIR WAS COOL, CARRIED THE Scent OF EARTH AND RAIN, AND HELD A STILLNESS THAT MADE HIS SKIN PRICKLE (WHOOSH… CRUNCH…).
BLACK SEDANS WAITED SILENTLY, THEIR ENGINES HUMMING FAINTLY. BODYGUARDS IN IMPECCABLE BLACK SUITS ESCORTED HIM THROUGH THE QUIET TERMINAL, THEIR EYES SHARP, SCANNING, AS IF NOTHING COULD ESCAPE THEM. THE MYSTERIOUS GIRL WALKED A STEP AHEAD, CALM, HER PRESENCE LIKE A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS.
SIYUN SWALLOWED HARD, HEART BEATING FASTER (THUMP… THUMP… THUMP!), AND WHISPERED TO HIMSELF, "WHERE… WHERE ARE WE GOING?"
"YOUR DESTINATION," SHE REPLIED, HER VOICE STEADY, SLIGHTLY MUSICAL, "THE ONE WHO HOLDS THE ANSWERS YOU SEEK… WILL MEET YOU THERE."
THE ROAD LED HIM TO A MANSION OF UNIMAGINABLE SCALE. IT WAS NOT MERELY A BUILDING, BUT AN ESTATE SPRAWLING FAR BEYOND THE EYE, WITH LIGHTS TWINKLING LIKE STARS THROUGH COUNTLESS WINDOWS. THE GROUNDS WERE METICULOUSLY MAINTAINED, WITH SERVANTS MOVING LIKE CLOCKWORK, AND THE MANSION ITSELF SEEMED TO STRETCH ENDLESSLY INTO THE NIGHT. SIYUN STOPPED FOR A MOMENT, BREATH CAUGHT IN HIS THROAT.
"HOW… HOW CAN ANYONE LIVE HERE?" HE MUTTERED, EYES WIDE.
"THERE IS MUCH YOU DO NOT KNOW," SHE SAID, TURNING HER HEAD SLIGHTLY, HER EYES CALM AND MYSTERIOUS. "AND THERE IS TIME… BUT NOT YET."
THEY ENTERED THROUGH HEAVY OAK DOORS THAT SEEMED TO SWALLOW SOUND, AND THE HALLS ECHOED ONLY WITH THE SOFT CLICK OF FOOTSTEPS (CLACK… CLACK…). MARBLE FLOORS, GOLD ACCENTS, WALLS LINED WITH ANTIQUES AND PAINTINGS, WINDOWS THAT REVEALED VAST GARDENS… EVERY DETAIL WAS OPULENT, ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE.
A BUTLER MET THEM AFTER A FEW MINUTES, HIS POSTURE IMPECCABLE, VOICE LOW AND AUTHORITATIVE:
"THE JOURNEY WAS LONG. TAKE YOUR REST. AFTER YOU ARE READY, I WILL TAKE YOU TO MEET THE HEAD."
SIYUN NODDED, HEAD SPINNING SLIGHTLY FROM THE TRAVEL. HE SAT IN A ROOM THAT LOOKED LIKE IT BELONGED IN A PALACE, THE BED LUXURIOUS BEYOND BELIEF, WINDOWS OPENING TO OVERWHELMING VISTAS OF THE ESTATE. HE LET HIMSELF BREATHE, ALONE WITH HIS THOUGHTS, REFLECTING ON HOW FAR HE HAD COME.
AFTER HOURS OF REST, THE BUTLER RETURNED, SILENT, ALMOST SHADOW-LIKE, AND LED HIM THROUGH THE HALLS ONCE MORE. SIYUN FOLLOWED, FEELING AN UNSETTLING FAMILIARITY. HE DID NOT UNDERSTAND IT, BUT HE FELT AS IF HE HAD WALKED THESE CORRIDORS BEFORE—LIKE MEMORIES BURIED DEEP IN HIS MIND.
"THE MASTER IS AWAITING YOU," THE BUTLER SAID, CALM AND LOW.
SIYUN BREATHED DEEPLY, STEPPING THROUGH CORRIDORS THAT SEEMED ENDLESS. THE SOUND OF THEIR FOOTSTEPS (CLACK… CLACK…) ECHOED IN THE HALL, BLENDING WITH THE DISTANT RUSTLE OF WIND AND LEAVES (SWISH… WHOOSH…). EACH STEP FELT WEIGHTY, MONUMENTAL.
HE REACHED A MASSIVE DOOR, ORNATE AND LUXURIOUS, SILVER AND GOLD TRIM GLEAMING IN THE DIM LIGHT. HIS HAND PAUSED ON THE DOORKNOB, HEART BEATING FURIOUSLY (THUMP… THUMP… THUMP!). HE TOOK A DEEP BREATH AND PUSHED IT OPEN.
INSIDE WAS A ROOM OF ASTONISHING GRANDEUR: WALLS LINED WITH BOOKS, SCROLLS, AND ARTIFACTS, A DESK SO LARGE IT COULD HOUSE AN ENTIRE LIBRARY, LIGHTING THAT MADE EVERYTHING GLEAM RICHLY. AND THERE, AT THE CENTER, AN OLD, MYSTERIOUS FIGURE TURNED TO FACE HIM.
SIYUN STOPPED DEAD IN HIS TRACKS, BREATH FROZEN IN HIS CHEST. THERE WAS SOMETHING IN THIS PERSON—A PRESENCE SO STRONG, SO FAMILIAR, THAT HIS STOMACH TIGHTENED. HE DID NOT KNOW THIS MAN, YET HE FELT LIKE HE HAD SEEN HIM BEFORE… IN DREAMS… OR MEMORIES HE COULD NOT PLACE.
THE BUTLER BOWED SLIGHTLY, WORDS LOW:
"THE MASTER IS WAITING. ENTER WHEN YOU ARE READY."
SIYUN TOOK A STEADYING BREATH, HEART STILL THUMPING (THUMP… THUMP…), AND STEPPED FORWARD. HIS EYES LOCKED WITH THE OLD MAN'S, AND IN THAT MOMENT, A SHOCK WASHED OVER HIM.
THE AIR WAS HEAVY, AND THE DISTANT WIND (WHOOSH… SWISH…) SEEMED TO ECHO THROUGH THE ROOM, MAKING EVERY STEP FEEL LIKE A CROSSING BETWEEN WORLDS. HE DID NOT KNOW WHAT HE EXPECTED, BUT HE KNEW SOMETHING DEEP AND UNSEEN WAS ABOUT TO CHANGE EVERYTHING.
SIYUN STAND FROZEN, EYES FIXED ON THE FIGURE, MIND WHIRLING WITH QUESTIONS: WHO WAS THIS MAN? WHY DID HE FEEL SO FAMILIAR? AND WHAT DID HE HAVE TO DO WITH HIS LIFE—THE BETRAYALS, THE REVENGE, THE PATH HE HAD CHOSEN?
THE ROOM SEEMED TO HUM WITH SILENT POWER, THE WEIGHT OF THE ESTATE AND THE PRESENCE OF THE MYSTERIOUS FIGURE PRESSING ON HIM. AND IN THAT MOMENT, HE KNEW—HIS LIFE WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN.