The darkness thinned.
At first, it was only sound.
Soft. Distant.
Birds chirping somewhere high above, their calls gentle, almost shy, as if afraid to wake the world too quickly.
Then light.
Not sharp, not blinding—just a pale glow leaking through closed eyelids.
They fluttered.
Slowly.
Vision came in fragments.
A ceiling of white that blurred into gold. The edges of the world trembling, unfocused, like a memory struggling to settle. Shapes moved nearby—tall shadows, bending closer.
A woman's voice broke through first.
Warm. Trembling with affection.
"Here is our cute little son."
The words wrapped around him like a blanket.
The blur sharpened just enough to make out her figure leaning over something small. Her face was still unclear, softened by tears and light, but her smile was unmistakable. She reached down, careful, reverent.
A man stood beside her.
His voice was deeper, steadier—but underneath it lay a current of fear.
"I wish he becomes one of the bravest… the most powerful."
The woman stiffened.
Her hand paused mid-air.
"Don't say strong," she whispered sharply, panic bleeding into her tone.
The man turned toward her, confusion creasing his brow. "What?"
She stepped back from the cradle, eyes wide now, as if the very walls could hear her thoughts.
"What if he becomes an Alpha?"
The word hung heavy, poisonous.
The man's face drained of color.
"That's not going to happen," he said quickly, too quickly. "It won't."
But the woman shook her head, breath shaking as she pressed her hands together.
"You know it's been a hundred years already," she said. "Another king will be chosen. Again."
She swallowed, then looked back down into the cradle.
"If he becomes the Alpha…" her voice broke. "They'll take him. They'll make him kill her."
The figures blurred.
The light collapsed.
Darkness swallowed everything whole.
—
Laughter.
Bright. Carefree. Young.
The world rebuilt itself slowly, this time painted in green.
Sunlight filtered through leaves overhead, dancing across grass and flowers. The smell of earth and summer filled the air. A garden stretched wide, vibrant and alive.
A tree stood at the center.
Beneath it, two children sat close together.
A girl with bright eyes and untamed hair giggled, tilting her head as she looked at the boy beside her.
"Twilight," she said cheerfully. "That's your name, right?"
The boy looked at her, startled—as if hearing his name spoken aloud anchored him to the moment.
Before he could answer—
—
The dream shattered.
The hospital corridor was cold.
Too bright. Too quiet.
Two guards stood rigidly outside the ICU room, their dark uniforms sharp against the pale walls. They didn't speak. They didn't move. Their presence alone felt like a warning.
Henry stood in front of them, arms crossed, irritation etched deep across his face.
"Come on," he snapped. "I'm his best friend."
The guard on the left didn't even blink.
Henry leaned forward. "You think I'm lying? I've known him for years."
Nothing.
They might as well have been statues.
Behind him, Lily sighed loudly, arms folded tight against her chest.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "He's not some criminal."
She took a step forward without asking.
The guards reacted instantly.
Strong hands caught her arms, stopping her mid-step.
Lily froze for half a second—then turned slowly, fury blazing in her eyes.
"You know what?" she hissed. "Go to hell."
She yanked her arms free, stepped back, and raised her middle finger without hesitation.
The guards didn't react.
Lily stormed off.
Chris stood a little distance away, leaning against the wall. She looked better now—color had returned to her face—but the worry in her eyes hadn't faded.
"Those assholes didn't let you in either," Chris said quietly as Lily reached her.
Lily shook her head, breathing hard. "Nope. Apparently, caring about someone is illegal now."
The three of them stood there in silence, staring at the closed door.
Two guards.
No visitors.
No family.
Just questions.
Why would someone send guards instead of showing up themselves?
What were they protecting him from?
And why did it feel like Twilight wasn't allowed to wake up yet?
Most of all—
Why would someone with plans, dreams, and people who cared about him ever choose to disappear?
—
They didn't remember deciding to leave the hospital.
Only that, at some point, the air felt too heavy to breathe.
The café was quiet when they sat down—dim lights, low music, untouched cups resting on the table between them.
For a long moment, none of them spoke.
Then Chris broke the silence.
"Hey… guys," she said softly.
Henry and Lily looked up.
"There's something I should tell you."
Her fingers tightened around the warm cup.
"I don't have parents," she said simply. "A nanny raised me."
Henry blinked, caught off guard. "Oh… I—I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's okay," Chris said quickly. "I just… with everything happening, with Twilight, with his family being a mystery—I didn't want things unsaid between us."
Lily stayed quiet, listening.
"My nanny took care of me since I was little," Chris continued. "She was everything. Still is."
Lily nodded gently.
"My grandma raised me," Lily said after a moment. "Mom was always busy. Single mother. I don't even know who my dad is."
Henry looked at her, surprised. "I thought you lived alone."
"I do," Lily replied. "My grandma lives at our farmhouse. It's peaceful there."
"She lives alone?" Henry asked.
Lily shook her head. "No. I never really talk about it, but… I have an older brother. He lives with her."
Henry's eyes widened. "You have a brother too?"
She nodded. "My mom runs a food shop full-time. The farmhouse is close to it, so she stays there most of the time. I visit on weekends. That's why I'm barely home."
Henry leaned back, absorbing it.
"I guess it's my turn," he said after a pause. "I didn't hate my family. I just… hated being controlled."
He stared into his cup.
"When I was thirteen, I asked my grandpa to buy me a house here in Genorex City. He always listened to me."
Lily raised an eyebrow. "A house?"
"A big one," Henry said sheepishly. "I thought this city would be calm."
He let out a dry laugh. "Turns out it's noisier than my parents' fights. But I got used to it."
Silence settled again—but this time, it felt different.
Lighter.
Three people, sitting together, not because they were bound by blood—
But because they chose each other.
Outside, sirens echoed faintly in the distance.
Somewhere in the city, shadows were moving again.
And somewhere behind guarded doors, Twilight slept—caught between a past he didn't remember and a future he hadn't chosen yet.