Falling... shards like broken pieces of glass whirled around her as she plunged deeper into the abyss. She reached out, desperate to grab hold of something, anything. But the fragments slipped through her fingers, too quick, or maybe she was falling too fast. With one last frantic lunge, she snatched a shard from the air. She took a closer look at it, the misty surface cleared, becoming crystal-clear before bursting into a cloud of mist that engulfed her.

The world closed on itself, she desperately tried to breathe before being spat out onto a cold floor, a massive horse loomed over her. She tried to touch its leg, but her hands felt oddly small and pudgy. Struggling to her feet, her legs buckled beneath her, leaving her no choice but to crawl.

Suddenly, a man appeared, stumbling towards her. His limp was pronounced, his clothes soaked in blood. His eyes met hers for a fleeting moment before darting past her."

"Miriam!" he cried, his voice hoarse and desperate. "They've broken through the outer defenses. You need to leave, now. For your daughter's sake, you must go!"

The bloodied man towered over her. Selah couldn't help but wonder if this man was a giant or if she had somehow shrunk. 'Is this a dream?' she thought, confused. 'Why can't I move?'

As Selah struggled to make sense of her surroundings, a woman's voice screeched behind her. In an instant, she was lifted into the air and thrust mere inches from the bloodied man's face.

"My daughter, Lukan?! The woman's eyes blazed "Look at her face! Selah is OUR daughter, and if we leave this place, we do it together. Or we die here together, swords in hand!"

Slowly, realization washed over Selah. "Miriam... Lukan..." She stretched out her tiny hands, screaming, "MOM! DAD! It's you! I've missed you so much! I never gave up, I kept looking! No one believed me, but I never stopped... But Dad, why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt? TALK TO ME! I'VE MISSED YOU! Why won't you answer me?!"

Despite her cries, Miriam and Lukan merely looked down at her. "There, Miriam. You've scared her," Lukan said softly.

"It's the blood," Miriam replied. "She's never seen anything like it. She's only a year and a half old, after all."

Suddenly, Selah realized she hadn't been speaking at all, but wailing like an infant. 'They can't hear me... This is a dream. I haven't actually found them.' Selah felt a chill creep through her chest, her heart aching as if it were slowly crumbling. "Well," she muttered, her voice hollow, "I guess I at least get to see them in whatever this is."

The sounds of battle grew louder. Lukan stood and faced the door, glancing back at his wife and child. "Miriam, I know I can't make you leave. But promise me this: no matter how many come through that door, no matter what happens to me, you won't let them touch her. Promise me you won't die today."

Miriam sighed deeply. "I told you, if we live, we live together. If we die, we all die together. Instead, I swear this to you: I will not die if you swear that today, none of us - not me, not Selah, not you - will die."

Lukan turned to her, gripping her shoulders, his eyes locked with hers. "I swear to you, on this day we shall live. No matter what comes through that door, we shall live."

Miriam gave him a weak smile. "Dear husband, you speak as if you command death. Both life and death bow to no one but God."

Lukan smiled back. "I know. I speak not by my authority but by His who is on high. If there is to be a prayer answered today..." The banging and rattling of war drums grew closer. "Let us live, oh God... for our Selah... Let us live."

He turned to face the door. The ground shook as the drums drew near. Miriam stood shoulder to shoulder with Lukan, their swords gleaming in the warm torchlight. Their eyes met, and in that moment, everything else faded away. No words were needed; their gaze said it all. "We will live," Selah heard them whisper into the night before the gates burst open, shattering the dream into countless fragments

"WAKE UPPP!" A woman's screech jolted Selah awake. Blinding light flooded her vision. She winced, covering her face.

Heart racing, Selah scrambled away from the door, half-expecting an explosion. When nothing happened, she looked down.

Eliana lay sprawled on the floor, groaning. She glared up at Selah. "What's your damage?! You smacked me in the face!"

"Sorry," Selah said, fighting a smile.

"Don't you dare!" Eliana snapped. "What nightmare were you having? You kept yelling 'mom' and 'dad' with this creepy grin, face covered in tears."

Selah's amusement faded. "Ah... I see. I guess I was missing my parents."

"Makes sense. You probably didn't call them yesterday after all that happened," Eliana said, distracted.

"Not quite," Selah replied slowly. "They're missing. Over a year now."

She braced herself for pity, but Eliana's response was oddly calm. "Oh. Are the police searching for them?"

Selah stared, taken aback. 'Happy or horrified?' she wondered.

"Well...?" Eliana prompted. "Have the police found them yet?"

"Did I make you mad somehow?" Selah asked quietly.

"Other than punching me? No." Eliana rubbed her face. "You pack quite a punch, by the way. Why would you think I'm mad?"

Selah explained her usual experience — the pity, the false promises, the forgotten faces. Eliana's eyes widened.

"You're focused on that?! What about people not remembering your parents?!"

"Y-yes? I'm used to it now—"

"What kind of idiot are you? People who knew you and your parents claim they never—"

"Stop it," Selah interrupted, her voice sharp. "I don't know what the Vigiles Sancti does, but you look equipped to handle weird stuff. When this happened, I tried everything. I begged the police to believe me. I pleaded with distant family to understand. All it did was make me look crazy."

She took a shaky breath. "But I couldn't give up. I needed skills to find them, so I enrolled in the only cheap course that could help — investigative journalism at a community college. Since then, I've been searching with whatever I had."

Her eyes met Eliana's, fierce and determined. "So don't you dare call me an idiot who gave up. I didn't. It's just... my best shot was pathetic."

Selah yanked open the door, colliding with Lucas. His hand hovered mid-knock.

"Oh, perfect," Selah scoffed. "Come to drag me into another corridor for your bizarre self-punishment routine?"

Lucas's eyes darted away. "I... what are you talking about?"

He edged past her, then froze. Eliana stood by the bed, eyes glistening.

Without a word, Eliana brushed past them both, leaving a wake of tension.

Lucas leaned against the dresser, humming softly. The awkward melody stretched on for minutes.

Selah's patience snapped. She whirled on him. "Why did you lie?"

"Why did you yell at me?" Lucas countered, his voice cool.

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"Oh, that's how we're playing it?" Selah's words tumbled out. "Fine. Explain the hand-dragging, the face-slapping, your mutterings about your father and Bellator. Any of that ring a bell?"

Lucas sighed, gesturing to the bed. "Sit. Please."

Selah hesitated, then perched on the edge.

"I'd hoped to forget last night," Lucas began. "But clearly, that's not happening. I'll tell you what I can, but first—" He met her eyes. "Tell me about Eliana's tears. And that dream you had."

"Two secrets for one? That's hardly fair," Selah retorted.

"What would make it fair?"

Selah paused, considering. "You'll owe me an answer. Any question, when I choose to ask it. And it has to be the truth."

Lucas weighed the offer. "You drive a hard bargain. But... deal."

Outside, the sun climbed high over the jagged peaks, casting long shadows across the rugged terrain. The mountain air, crisp and invigorating, carried the sweet scent of wildflowers and pine. In the distance, an eagle soared on thermal currents, its piercing cry echoing through the valley.

As Selah recounted her unsettling dream and her parents' mysterious disappearance, Lucas listened, his face a mask of vague stillness. When she finally finished, they sat in silence, gazing out the window. Selah closed her eyes, feeling the cool mountain breeze caress her face.

Lucas glanced at her, thoughts churning. 'She's been through so much... It's easy to forget others suffer just as much, if not more.'

"Y'know, I can feel you staring," Selah murmured, eyes still closed.

"Huh? What—"

Selah suddenly leaned in close, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Can't take your eyes off my pretty face?"

"Whoa!" Lucas scrambled back, nearly toppling off his perch.

Selah laughed. "Relax! I'm kidding. Thought you'd know how to act around women, given how close you and Eliana seem."

Lucas shot her a dismissive look. "Anyway, let's start that tour I promised."

He made for the door, only to be yanked back by Selah's firm grip.

"Not so fast," she warned. "You still haven't told me about last night. We're not taking a single step outside until you hold up your end of the deal."

Lucas's eyes darted nervously. "You caught that, huh? I could tell you some, not all. But... you might not be an outsider after all."

"What do you—" Selah started, confusion etching her features.

"Bellator will explain more," Lucas cut in, his voice tight. He swallowed hard. "When he does... you'll probably hate me."

Selah's brow furrowed. Hate him? Why? "Lucas, what are you talking about?"

He gripped her shoulders, his gaze intense. "This might be my only chance. To tell you everything. My perspective." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Before Bellator tries to absolve me of guilt. I need you to know... I'm not innocent." He paused, searching her face. "Do you want to know?"

Selah studied him, noting the pain etched in his features. Whatever this is, it's tearing him apart. She nodded, sitting down.

Lucas joined her, about to speak when—

"Wait," Selah said softly. "Give me your hand."

"Why?" Suspicion flashed in his eyes.

"Just do it."

Reluctantly, Lucas complied, his hand trembling slightly in hers.

Lucas stared out the window, avoiding Selah's gaze. His face grew paler by the second as Selah watched, her eyes fixed on him. She squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him to begin.

"Humanity's written countless tales of war," Lucas began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Victors are immortalized in song, but those stories..." He shook his head. "They're rarely the whole truth."

He drew a shaky breath, his shoulders tensing. "We had our own war. An uprising that tore through our order's very heart. The lands around Mons Sanctus..." His voice caught. "They ran red."

Lucas's gaze grew distant. "House Silverthorne and the Seraphields - once paragons of might and virtue - had called their banners. They made camp within Arx Vigilum's impenetrable walls." His fingers curled into a fist. "That fortress guarded the only path to our capital. For centuries, it stood unbreached against hordes of Hellbound." A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "But even the mightiest walls can fall."

He turned to Selah, his eyes haunted. "Lukan Silverthorne led one house, Bellator Seraphields the other. They sent starlings - messenger birds - to every corner of the order, pleading for aid against..." Lucas swallowed hard. "Against House Bledman. My house."

Selah leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "Why? What could drive them to rebellion?"

Lucas's jaw clenched. "They accused us of corruption. Of tempting innocent people - blindlings, we call them - into joining the Hellbound. All to manipulate the Hellsfall Codex."

"Wait," Selah interrupted, horrified. "Your house helped create more Hellbounds!? I thought you killed them. And what's this Codex?"

Lucas closed his eyes, shame etched across his face. "Hellbound are damned souls, Selah. They trade their humanity- their soul for power, thinking they've won the world." His voice dropped. "But it's all a lie. They lose everything, piece by agonizing piece, until they're nothing but empty husks branded with the mark of the beast. Not living, not dead. Just... existing."

He paced the room, unable to stay still. "The Hellsfall Codex began as a simple ledger. Each family's kills, neatly recorded as 'Expurgations'." Bitterness crept into his tone. "But power corrupts. My ancestors twisted it, arguing that more Expurgations meant more influence. Other houses followed suit, hungry for control."

Lucas met Selah's gaze, his eyes pleading for understanding. "Now it's not just a record. It's a weapon, swaying decisions, tipping the scales of power. All because of numbers in a book." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And some would do anything to keep those numbers high."

Selah leaned forward, hanging on every word.

Lucas's voice grew heavy as he continued, his eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the window. "The betrayal at Arx Vigilum... it was the beginning of the end." His fingers curled into fists at his sides. "Bellator Seraphields saw the banners of his allies approaching - Houses Lux Parva, Civitas Lucis, and Custodia. He ordered the gates opened, relief evident on his face."

He paused, swallowing hard. "But the moment those gates swung wide, chaos erupted. The 'allied' forces poured in, weapons drawn, cutting down Seraphield's men where they stood." Lucas's voice cracked. "Gold and promises of power had turned longtime friends into ruthless enemies."

"The outer baileys fell first, then the curtain walls. House Seraphield's army, caught off guard, was decimated." He shook his head, a mixture of awe and sorrow in his voice. "But Lukan Silverthorne... he lived up to his reputation as a brilliant commander. Somehow, he managed to rally what forces remained, retreating to the keep and fortifying it."

Lucas's gaze met Selah's, his eyes haunted. "The battle raged for hours. By the time it was over, House Seraphield had fallen. Bellator..." He trailed off, collecting himself. "Bellator refused to surrender. They were going to execute him, but his son Elias Seraphields - Eliana and Briar's father - he..." Lucas's voice dropped to a whisper. "He denounced his own father, swearing fealty to House Bledman."

"My father," Lucas continued, his tone bitter, "he stripped the Seraphields of their ancient name. Renamed them 'House Newman' - a constant reminder of their shame." He ran a hand through his hair. "Bellator was sentenced to serve as a lowly sentry at Cathedralis Custodum. It was meant to break him, to humiliate him for the rest of his days."

A wry smile tugged at Lucas's lips. "But somehow, over the years, Bellator climbed the ranks. Now he's the Sentinel Prelate of this very place." He shook his head, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I suppose even in defeat, some men refuse to be broken."

He fell silent, his gaze distant.

"And the Silverthornes?" Selah asked, her voice barely audible.

Lucas's jaw tightened. "Vanished. Lukan, his wife, their daughter - all gone from a locked cellar." He ran a hand through his hair. "My father searched, but..." A heavy sigh escaped him. "Nothing."

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Selah pressed, a chill racing down her spine.

Lucas met her eyes, his own haunted. "Lukan had barricaded his family in the keep's cellar. When the battle ended, a squad went to secure it." He paused, his face ashen. "They never returned. The commander took a full platoon to investigate." Lucas's voice grew hoarse. "They found the entire first squad dead. But Lukan, his wife, their little girl – they'd vanished without a trace."

He slumped against the window frame, exhaustion etched in every line of his body. "It was as if they'd been swallowed by the very stones of the fortress. Leaving nothing but bodies and questions in their wake."

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room. Thunder rumbled in the distance as Selah stood by the window, her fingers tracing patterns on the cool glass. Lucas watched her, his shoulders hunched under an invisible weight.

"This Lukan Silverthorne... he's really my father?" Selah's whisper barely carried over the wind's soft moan.

Lucas nodded, swallowing hard. "If your mother's Miriam, it's a perfect match." He watched as Selah's eyes widened, then quickly narrowed, her jaw clenching.

"I see," Selah murmured, her gaze unfocused. Her hand trembled slightly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Lucas took a deep breath. "There's more. My name - Lucas - was my father's final insult to yours. A vow that I'd defeat our enemies."

Selah's hand slipped from his. Lucas stood to leave, but Selah's fingers wrapped around his wrist, her grip surprisingly strong.

"How can you bear to touch me?" he asked, his voice rough.

Selah's eyes shimmered in the fading light. "Luca means 'bringer of light.' Your father doomed himself with that name." Her voice cracked. "I've searched for years, Lucas. Now I know why I couldn't find them." She gripped his arm tighter, her words tumbling out. "Please, help me. I'm begging you. You're the only one who can. Please, Lucas."

Lucas stared at her, his breath catching. "I can't," he whispered. "The official story... it's all lies. The Vigiles Sancti paint your parents as traitors, power-hungry rebels who tried to overthrow the council. But I've seen the truth. My father, he..." Lucas's fists clenched at his sides. "He's the monster they accused your parents of being. Creating Hellbound, manipulating the Codex - all of it."

He paced the room, his steps quick and uneven. "When I realized what he was, what our family stood for, I couldn't stay. I volunteered for this post to escape it all. If I help you, if he finds out..." Lucas trailed off, his eyes darting to the door. "I'm sorry. I can't go back there."

Selah's hand fell to her side. She walked to the door, her steps heavy. Her fingers rested on the handle as she turned back. "You're not your father, Lucas." Her voice was flat, drained of emotion. "But you're no better if you won't try to right his wrongs. I needed you." She opened the door. "You were my last hope."

The door closed with a soft click. Lucas slumped against the window frame, his forehead pressed against the cool glass. Outside, the first raindrops splattered against the pane. He closed his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm, trying to drown out the echoes of Selah's words.