The mansion was quiet, almost unnervingly so. The soft tick of the clock and the faint hum of the night outside were the only sounds.
Leah lay in her bed, the sheets tangled around her legs. She had been reorganizing some of Izana's things earlier, small routines to feel close to him, but the emptiness on his side of the bed made the room feel hollow. Even after two years, even after she had learned about his past and what he endured, the ache of his absence never left her.
And then sleep came, dragging her into something she hadn't expected.
She found herself in a corridor she knew too well, the long hallway of the mansion's medical wing. Shadows stretched along the walls, flickering like memories. The smell of antiseptic clung to the air. Every step she took echoed too loudly, the sound amplified in the quiet.
A small figure appeared at the end of the hall. Leah's breath caught instantly. She knew him. She always knew him. Even in the fleeting glimpses of memory, even in the boy who had only existed in her heart, she knew.
The boy was small, pale, hair messy over his forehead, red eyes wide and urgent, no blindfold to hide them like last time. He looked no older than ten, the child Izana had been before the curse had begun to warp his life.
"Leah…" he whispered, voice trembling, fragile.
She froze, tears instantly pricking her eyes. "I… I know… it's you." Her voice was shaky, but steady enough to carry certainty. "It's you, Izana."
He took a tentative step toward her, but his eyes avoided hers. "I… I have to leave," he said softly, almost ashamed. "I'm… I'm not supposed to stay."
Leah's chest tightened painfully. "Leave? No… you can't. Don't go. Not now, not ever." She reached forward instinctively, wanting to hold him, to keep him close, but her arms felt weighted, as if the dream itself resisted her movement.
"I can't… I can't stay," the boy said, voice breaking. "The curse… it's leaving. I'm… changing. And I… I don't belong anymore."
Leah swallowed hard, tears spilling freely now. "The curse… what does that mean? You're not leaving me, Izana. You can't. I'll fight it with you. I'll fight anything for you."
The little boy shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "No… I have to go where I'm meant to go. Where I can… be safe. You… you have to understand someday. I… I can't stay like I was."
Leah's hands clenched the sheets. "I don't care about safety! I don't care about anything! You're alive, you're here—I can't lose you! Not again!"
He lifted his small hands as if to reach for her, but the gesture faltered. His form began to shimmer, the edges of him dissolving like mist in the night. "Goodbye, Leah… I have to… leave this behind."
"No!" Her voice broke, piercing the quiet dream. "You're not leaving me! I can't… I won't survive without you!"
The boy's face softened, sorrowful. "I'm not abandoning you… I never could. But I… I need to go now. For both our sakes. The curse… it's leaving me, and I have to learn to exist without it. You… you'll understand one day."
Leah's tears streamed down her cheeks as she pressed her hands to her face. "I… I'll wait. I'll wait for you. I'll never stop waiting."
His eyes, crimson and fragile, glimmered. "I know, Leah. That's why I can leave, knowing you'll survive… knowing you'll hold on. I… I'll see you again. One day."
The little boy's form shimmered more, fading, dissolving into the shadows of the hallway. His last words echoed, soft and haunting: "Goodbye, Leah…"
Leah awoke with a gasp, her chest heaving. The sheets were twisted around her, her body trembling. She pressed a hand to the space where Izana had slept, feeling the emptiness, the coldness of absence.
Dante, asleep in the chair by the door, stirred immediately, sensing her panic. "Leah?" His voice was gentle, cautious, grounding.
"I… it was him," she whispered, her voice cracking. "The boy… the child… Izana. The curse is leaving him… and he… he came to say goodbye."
Dante frowned, concern knitting his brows. "A nightmare?"
"Yes… but it felt real. Too real. I could feel him… fading. Leaving. I… I don't know what it means. But it hurt… it hurt like I've lost him again." Her voice shook, tears still flowing freely.
Dante reached for her hand, gently squeezing. "Leah… you know he's not gone. He's out there, he's surviving. He's doing what he has to do. The curse… it didn't destroy him. He's alive. He's strong."
She shook her head, still trembling. "But why… why would he say goodbye? Why would he leave like that? Why… now?"
"Sometimes," Dante said softly, "even the strongest must walk their path alone. Even Izana. It doesn't mean he's abandoning you—it's how he protects you. From what he has to face… from what he might become if he stays too long."
Leah's voice was barely a whisper, heavy with longing. "Two years… and he hasn't come back. I've waited. I've tried to move on. But my heart… it won't let me stop thinking about him. About what he's going through."
Dante's hand stayed firm, anchoring her. "And you shouldn't stop. That's love, Leah. That's how you know he's worth every second of waiting."
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the tight ache of longing. "I just… I wish I could hold him one more time. Tell him… I'm still here. That I love him. That I won't leave him."
Dante's voice was steady, quiet. "Maybe one day, you will. For now… hold onto that hope. That's your bond. Stronger than any curse, stronger than any nightmare or absence."
Leah nodded slowly, tears streaking her cheeks, the memory of the little boy lingering like a fragile ghost in her heart. She pressed the blanket closer, whispering softly, almost to herself: "I'll wait… I'll never stop. I'll wait for you, Izana."
Outside, the night pressed against the mansion windows. Somewhere, beyond her reach, Izana continued his journey—alone, haunted, and strong—while Leah clung to the vision of him, the little boy who came to say goodbye, and the hope that one day they would meet again.