The Archivist's eyes locked with his. "Good. The path ahead is fraught with peril. Your ability to navigate it successfully will depend on the discretion you maintain and the strength you muster."

With that, The Archivist faded from view, leaving Vas and Anya in the stillness of the hospital room. The tension in the air was palpable, as if the very walls held their breath in anticipation of what was to come.

Anya turned back to Vas, her expression resolute. "We'll need to prepare. The Forgotten are not to be underestimated, and it's clear that we're only scratching the surface of what's going on. I'll make sure you have the support you need. For now, focus on recovering and stay alert."

Vas looked at her, a mixture of gratitude and apprehension in his eyes. "Thank you, Anya. I... I don't know what I'd do without you."

Anya gave him a reassuring smile. "You won't have to find out. We're in this together."

As she turned to leave, Vas felt a flicker of hope amid the overwhelming uncertainty. The road ahead was dark and fraught with danger, but for the first time in a long while, he wasn't walking it alone

Not long after, Vas was cleared to leave the hospital. An extensive check-up revealed that his collapse had been due to sheer exhaustion. Anya helped him into her car, and as they drove away from the hospital, the noon sun cast long shadows over the cityscape. Despite only having spent a single night in the hospital, the sense of urgency surrounding the situation was undeniable.

As they headed toward his house, Anya mentioned that everyone had been summoned—specifically, all the parents of the kids from the previous night. Vas could only guess at the reason: his grandfather would undoubtedly be furious, and while his grandmother usually dismissed their escapades with a shrug, the gravity of last night's events had clearly warranted her concern.

"Please don't mention anything about my situation to my family," Vas said, his voice tinged with urgency.

Anya glanced at him, curiosity piqued. "Why not? If one of their main concerns is that you're not bonded to any particular god—"

"There's a reason for that," Vas interrupted, his tone firm.

Anya raised an eyebrow. "And what's that reason?"

"It's one of the things I can't share with anyone," Vas replied, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window.

Anya's eyes narrowed slightly, but she said no more, respecting his silence. The drive continued in a contemplative quiet, both aware of the tension building as they approached the inevitable confrontation waiting at his home.

As soon as Vas and Anya stepped into the room, they were met by a gathering of stern faces. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, the air heavy with the weight of what was to come. Madeline was already seated, her expression cool and composed, beside a man of darker complexion with a meticulously groomed beard and a shaved head. He exuded an air of quiet authority, his elegant suit accentuating the sharp lines of his posture. Across the room, Victor's mother, with her long dark hair cascading in sleek waves down to her waist, wore a sharply tailored three-piece suit with a crimson shirt that contrasted starkly with the otherwise somber room. Lastly, a nondescript man in a formal suit stood quietly to the side, his presence almost ghostly amidst the tension.

As Vas and Anya entered, every pair of eyes in the room turned toward them, the silence deepening to an almost oppressive level. The air was thick, charged with unspoken words and hidden concerns, when suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"You know, I call you 'Early Bird' because you're usually early," Gerald's voice, smooth yet carrying an edge, echoed from the doorway as he entered the living room, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"I apologize, Grandfather," Vas responded, his tone carefully measured, yet there was an undertone of unease that only those who knew him well could detect.

"No need to apologize," Gerald replied, his smile warming slightly, though his eyes remained sharp. "I'm just relieved to see you're alright." Abigail stood beside him, her expression inscrutable, a pillar of silent support. Trailing behind them were Aleara, Beck, Amy, Victor, Carmilla, Lily, Zola, and Kairo, each of them bearing the weight of the situation in their own way. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Gerald settled into a chair positioned deliberately apart from the rest, his presence commanding. Abigail gracefully took the seat next to him, her posture exuding quiet authority.

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"I'm glad everyone could be here today," Gerald began, his voice carrying a gravity that stilled the room. "It's always a pleasure to see you, Miss Integra von Kreuz."

"Always a pleasure, Gerald," Integra replied, her tone cold and formal, her gaze unwavering and intense as she sized up the room.

"Miss Madeline, I had hoped our next meeting would be under happier circumstances," Gerald continued, his tone softening slightly as he nodded in her direction.

Madeline inclined her head in acknowledgment, her expression unchanging.

"It's an honor to meet you, Mister Okafor," Gerald said, turning his attention to the man seated beside Madeline.

"The honor is mine, Gerald," Mister Okafor replied, his voice deep and calm, betraying nothing.

"And of course, it's good to see you again, Mister Arno," Gerald concluded, offering a polite nod to the man in the formal suit who had remained quietly in the background.

Everyone had instinctively positioned themselves near their guardians or mentors—Victor and Carmilla stood by Integra, their mother's formidable presence lending them an aura of confidence, while Kairo and Zola flanked Mister Okafor, their expressions neutral but alert. Amy hovered close to her father, Mister Arno, seeking his calm demeanor for reassurance. Anya had positioned herself protectively behind her sister, with Lily by her side, her hand lightly resting on Lily's shoulder. Only Aleara, Beck, and Vas stood alone, their parents absent, leaving their grandparents as their stand-in guardians.

"So," Gerald finally said, his voice deceptively gentle, "Anyone care to explain why you all thought it was a good idea to drink?" His smile remained, but it did little to mask the cold undertone that sent a shiver down everyone's spine.

"It's not that unusual for us to do something like this from time to time, Grandpa," Beck ventured, trying to sound casual, but his voice betrayed a slight tremor.

Gerald's gaze shifted to him, the room seeming to drop a few degrees in temperature. His smile faded, replaced by a stern, unyielding expression.

"I apologize for the trouble their behavior has caused," Anya interjected, stepping forward with a calm yet resolute demeanor. "Since it all started in one of my establishments, I feel a responsibility to cover the costs associated with Vas's hospital visit."

"And what about the psychological impact this event had on my children?" Integra interjected sharply, her voice laced with anger that she barely kept in check. Known for her unyielding strictness, Integra was more than just a powerful Bonded—she was the head of the von Kreuz family, a lineage steeped in mercenary traditions. Her reputation as a woman who always demanded something in return was well-known, and she wasn't about to let this incident slide.

"I don't think that's necessary," Mister Okafor responded calmly, his deep voice carrying a quiet authority. "They all made their choices last night, and now they have to face the consequences. If it affects them psychologically, they'll have to deal with it. It's part of growing up."

"Please," Mister Arno chimed in, his tone softer, yet firm, "They're just kids who made a mistake. One of their friends ended up in the hospital—there's no need to punish them further."

The room was filled with a thick silence, each adult weighing their words, each of the children feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on them. Gerald sat back in his chair, his sharp eyes scanning the room, taking in the tension, the fear, the guilt, and the defensiveness that simmered just beneath the surface.

"Perhaps," Gerald began, his voice breaking the silence like a knife cutting through thick fog, "But mistakes have consequences. And it's time for everyone to understand that."

"What does that mean, Grandpa?" Aleara asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and concern.

Gerald fixed his gaze on the group, his eyes piercing through the tension that hung in the air. "Let me ask you all this, kids: What exactly was the mistake you made last night?" His tone was firm, demanding their full attention.

"We drank and revealed the thing about the Unveiling," Zola said, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of guilt.

"Good," Gerald replied, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "I'm glad at least one of you is perceptive enough to realize it." His eyes scanned the room, the weight of his disappointment heavy in the silence.

"They revealed the Unveiling just like that?" Integra's voice cut through the silence like a knife, her tone cold and stern. Though she kept her composure, the fury simmering beneath the surface was palpable.

"Miss Integra," Gerald said, his voice calm yet unyielding, "please refrain from interrupting me." His words, though gentle, carried a weight that commanded silence. Even Integra, known for her unflinching authority, held her tongue.

"Now, as I was saying," Gerald continued, turning his attention back to the group, "there's no one in this room who didn't already know about the Unveiling. However, that doesn't change the fact that it was a significant breach of the rules and the trust that has been placed in you—especially you, my grandkids. That's why, from now on, and throughout the vacation period, the kids will be monitored by people working for me. And before anyone thinks of objecting, let me be clear: this decision is not up for debate. Not until they've proven themselves trustworthy once again."

A tense silence followed his declaration, broken only by the sound of Mister Okafor shifting in his seat. "And what exactly gives you the right to make that decision for everyone?" Mister Okafor's voice was calm but carried a challenge.

Gerald didn't flinch. "What gives me the right? I don't need anyone's permission to protect my family," he replied, his voice cold and unyielding. "I granted myself that right. If you have an issue with it, you're welcome to try and challenge it. But let me make one thing perfectly clear." Gerald leaned forward slightly, his presence dominating the room. "There's nothing that happens to a member of this family that I'm not aware of. One of my grandchildren ended up in the hospital, and I won't stand by while another mistake—born from recklessness—risks something even worse."