The ring still pulsed.
Lira didn't know whether to take it off or never let it go. The man lay unconscious at her feet, his words echoing like old ghosts:
> "The oath, Lira. The true one."
She had questions—too many. But now wasn't the time. She knelt beside him, checked his pulse. Steady.
Not dead.
Not yet.
She dragged him to the couch. His blood left a trail like a crimson thread tying the present to the past.
> Tick. Tick. Tick.
The rain had turned violent again. Thunder cracked the silence. Lira stared at the ring — its warmth wasn't from the metal. It was alive, like it remembered.
Suddenly — a memory.
A voice. Her mother's.
> "If the ring ever answers… run. Or burn them first."
She gasped. Clutched the silver tighter.
The room felt smaller. The shadows felt louder.
Then, the TV — off the whole time — flickered on.
No channels.
Just one phrase on the screen:
> "You're not the only heir."
Her breath hitched.
Heir? Of what?
She turned to the unconscious man — his face had shifted in sleep, like he was dreaming… or remembering, too.
She grabbed her jacket.
If the ring had chosen this night to wake, then so had she.
---
Outside, across the street, a pair of glowing red eyes blinked once… and vanished.
---
> 🔥 To be continued…
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My dear all friends I am so sorry for late upload my story actually my busy for my exam...