"I cannot allow my daughter to be followed," Mister Arno interjected, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Give it up," Integra said, her tone cutting. "As Gerald said, he doesn't need permission. There are very few who can actually change his mind, and given Abigail's silence, I'd say she agrees."

"Of course, I agree," Abigail said, her voice firm. "Are you joking? My grandchildren were put in a dangerous situation—one brought about by their own foolish decisions. Having people watch over them to ensure their safety and to make sure they don't go around blabbing about things they shouldn't? It sounds like a perfect solution to me."

The room fell silent once more. The patriarch and matriarch of the Hek family had spoken, their authority unchallenged. The others, recognizing that there was no further room for negotiation, exchanged resigned glances. They knew that with Gerald and Abigail standing united, there was little anyone could do to oppose their will

As the conversation came to a close, the tension in the room slowly began to dissipate. One by one, the adults exchanged formal goodbyes, some with lingering glances of concern or frustration. Mister Arno was the first to leave, nodding curtly to Gerald and Abigail before guiding Amy out the door. Integra followed, her children flanking her as they exited with an air of controlled dignity. Mister Okafor, ever the composed, offered a polite farewell before ushering Kairo and Zola along.

Madeline lingered for a moment, her sharp eyes studying Gerald with a mixture of respect and wariness. "I gues I'll have to trust you, Gerald," she said, her voice cool.

"You have my word," Gerald replied, his tone unwavering. With a slight nod, Madeline turned and left, the soft click of her heels echoing through the hallway.

Once the last of the guests had departed, leaving only the Hek family in the room, Gerald's expression softened. He turned to Vas, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and something more elusive.

"Vas," Gerald said, his voice now gentle, "a word with you, please."

Vas nodded, following his grandfather to a quieter corner of the room. Abigail, sensing the importance of the conversation, gently guided Aleara and Beck away, giving the two some privacy.

Gerald waited until they were alone before speaking again. "I want to commend you, Vas. While the others let their guard down, you were the only one who recognized the danger last night and acted with responsibility. You didn't drink, and you kept your wits about you. That's not something I take lightly."

Vas, who had been bracing himself for further reprimand, felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "Thank you, Grandpa," he said, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "I just… I knew something was off. I couldn't risk it."

Gerald nodded approvingly. "And that instinct, that ability to sense when something isn't right, is exactly why you won't be followed like the others. You've earned my trust, Vas. I'm not saying you're exempt from making mistakes—no one is—but you've proven to me that you can handle yourself when it counts."

Vas was taken aback, relief mixing with a deep sense of gratitude. "I appreciate that, Grandpa. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't," Gerald said, placing a reassuring hand on Vas's shoulder.

"Now," Gerald said, his voice firm but kind. "Go and get some rest. You've been through a lot."

Vas nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. As he turned to leave, Gerald's voice called out to him once more.

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"And Vas," Gerald added, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken, "remember, if you ever find yourself in over your head, don't hesitate to come to me. We're family, and that means we face our challenges together."

Vas glanced back, his heart swelling with a rare warmth. "I will, Grandpa. Thank you."

As Vas left the room, a persistent thought gnawed at him. If his grandfather was truly aware of everything that happened within the Hek family, he should have known about the seal—or at least kept a vigilant eye on his mother during her pregnancy. A wave of tension washed over him at the thought. The realization that Gerald could have been watching all along felt suffocating. It was unsettling to think that his grandfather, the patriarch of the family, might have known the truth yet chose to remain silent. What else had he kept from him? What secrets lay buried beneath the surface of their seemingly ordinary family life?

But now wasn't the time to confront him about it. Vas needed rest, especially since tonight he would attempt to navigate the Labyrinth of Echoes. He couldn't afford to be distracted by the possibility that his own flesh and blood harbored knowledge about his past that he had yet to uncover.

As soon as he entered his room, his bracelet chimed twice, signaling new messages.

The first was from Lily:"Aunty Anya just told me and Mom about you. Just wanted to let you know that you can count on us. We love you—I love you. You've become the brother I never had these past years, and it hurts that we have to keep up this charade of not knowing each other in public. Thank goodness school ends next week; that should lessen the burden, and we can act normally."

The second message was a surprise: "So, mystery guy, I got your contact info from Lily last night. I had fun with you, and now that I've seen your family, I get why you're so mysterious all the time. Anyway, I'm glad we met. But next time—and don't kid yourself, there will be a next time—let's avoid the creepy disappearance act. No, but for real, it was a relief to see you came back mostly safe. You do need to work on your endurance, though, for next time."

Vas couldn't help but smile as he read the texts. After his conversation with Anya, he realized that he wasn't as utterly alone as he'd believed. He had people who cared about him, people who were willing to support him even if they didn't fully understand what he was dealing with.

Still, he had to tread carefully, especially in his own house. The tension in the air was palpable, especially with Gerald in the mix. While he now had allies in the fight against the Forgotten, he still had no one he could trust when it came to uncovering who had sealed him from the world. That mystery remained unsolved, and he had to be cautious about his next move.

But that could wait. For now, sleep was his priority. After the detailed explanation he'd received about the Labyrinth of Echoes, he knew he'd need every ounce of energy and clarity he could muster. Tonight would be a trial like no other, and he had to be ready—if only to confront whatever dark secrets lingered within his family.

Late that night, Vas prepared himself for the Labyrinth of Echoes ritual. His room was consumed by darkness, the only light emanating from a single candle infused with onyx. The flame flickered with a life of its own, casting sinister shadows that danced across the walls. The air was thick with an oppressive tension, and Vas could feel a cold dread creeping up his spine as he placed the candle in the center of a chalk-drawn circle.

He sat cross-legged before it, forcing his breath to steady as his eyes locked onto the candle's flame. The onyx-infused light seemed to pulsate, drawing him into its depths. With a trembling hand, Vas retrieved the shard of obsidian from his pocket, its icy surface sending shivers through him as he held it to his temple.

The moment the shard touched his skin, the world around him shattered. His room disappeared, leaving him suspended in a void so dark that it felt like the very concept of light had been erased. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the faintest whispers, barely audible yet unnervingly close.

As the whispers grew louder, shadows began to materialize, twisting and writhing to form the walls of a labyrinth. The structure was endless, its corridors stretching infinitely in every direction. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of decay, and Vas felt a chill that seemed to seep into his bones.

He took a hesitant step forward, and the whispers intensified, circling around him like vultures. They were voices from a distant past, disembodied and distorted, filled with malice and cold detachment. These were not the voices of mere memories—they were echoes of a life he had tried to bury, a time when he had been more machine than man.

The labyrinth's path was narrow, the walls closing in as he walked deeper. The shadows seemed to move with him, their shapes shifting to form grotesque figures that loomed just out of sight. The voices grew more distinct, speaking in tones that sent icy tendrils of fear crawling through his veins. They spoke of blood and death, of choices made in the coldest of hearts, of lives taken with no more thought than one would give to swatting a fly.