Master Aren Maekha led Hanae to a room not far from where they had met. A healing chamber, he said.
The air inside was thick with the scent of damp wood and incense that had almost burned out.
The low ceiling and the walls, woven from tree fibers painted with protective symbols, made the room feel less like a sanctuary and more like a trap.
In the center of the room sat a young man—slim, but broad-shouldered. His hair was unkempt, his eyes sunken.
Merek did not look up. His hands were tightly gripping something—perhaps a necklace, perhaps a fragment of memory he couldn't let go.
"You're not Rhett," he muttered, his voice hoarse.
"Sentinel," Hanae replied. "Hanae Moreau."
"An outsider," Merek hissed. "You're here to dissect my spirit path, like they've dissected me with their stares."
"If I came to dissect you, I would've opened you up already," Hanae answered lightly. "But I'm here to look at the fragments, not to tear open your wounds."
Merek's fingers trembled—whether from anger or from holding back something that threatened to break free, she couldn't tell.
Master Aren Maekha gave Hanae's shoulder a brief pat, then left them in the sharp silence.
"If you're here to try and heal me," Merek finally spoke, his voice low and bitter, "don't waste your time."
"It's not my job to decide who can be healed," Hanae replied calmly, lowering her small bag as she sat across from him. "My job is to see, to listen, and to determine how far you're willing to hold on."
Merek turned halfway toward her, his gaze dark, his jaw set tight.
"I'm holding on," he hissed. "But everyone keeps telling me—not everything is worth holding on to."
"Lucia?" Hanae guessed softly.
Silence.
A long one.
Until Merek finally laughed—a hollow sound that never touched his eyes.
"You know her name."
"Aren told me. He told me you chose her."
"Yes. I chose her. I opened the spirit path. I bound my life to hers." His voice cracked at the edges. "And now I've lost her."
Hanae carefully observed the spiral of spirits surrounding Merek. Fractured. Faint. Parts of his path had been severed, yet the remnants still pulsed, as if waiting—either to be restored or to be fully broken.
"Why don't you just sever it?" Hanae whispered. "If it's what's causing you pain."
Merek's gaze locked onto hers, cold and sharp like winter air that had yet to thaw.
"Because I'm waiting. Because part of me is still in her hands. Because I don't want to forget."
Hanae didn't blink. She recognized those words. Hanae didn't blink. She recognized that wound.
Words nearly identical had once been spoken by someone close to her—someone who's now gone because of a broken bond.
"You still believe she's alive?"
"I don't know," Merek murmured. "Maybe she's dead. Maybe the creature took her. Maybe all that's left is a shard of her spirit still clinging to me. But… our path isn't fully gone. And as long as it's still there… I'll wait."
Hanae felt the weight of his words—trapped between letting go and holding on. And Merek had chosen the harder path—to hold on to what remained.
"How do you know it was a vampire who attacked her?" she asked gently.
"I didn't see it," Merek said flatly. "But I felt Lucia's spirit tear apart. I ran to the place she often visited… and I only found traces of a hunt. Too subtle for humans to read, but clear enough for us."
"Are you sure the vampire acted alone?"
Merek frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I suspect… that vampire wasn't just a predator. The spirit trail… It's too strange. Almost as if they were trained to rupture spirit paths, not just to drink blood."
Merek turned his face away. "Then it's more dangerous than I thought."
"And there may be more than one," Hanae added, her voice low but firm.
Silence settled between them again.
Merek lowered his head, his fingers gripping his knee so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Hanae waited patiently, allowing the stillness to fill the space.
Merek lowered his head, his fingers clutching his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white.
His gaze was hollow, his voice low but brimming with suppressed rage.
"What's it to you?" he hissed. "A broken spirit from the edge of nowhere, like me. Why would an outsider like you care more than my own people?"
Hanae remained silent, letting his words hang heavy in the air.
She could feel the weight of his anger—not just toward her, but toward his family, toward the Circle, toward everyone he believed had given up.
"Even the Circle has stopped looking." Merek's tone was bitter, raw. "They tell me to move on. That I have to accept it. But I know… I know they've just given up on her."
"Maybe they haven't given up," Hanae said quietly. "Maybe they're just trying to survive. Maybe they're doing what they can to keep the rest of the Circle from falling apart."
Merek let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Easy words. It's easy to keep walking when the burden isn't yours."
His gaze burned, almost accusing. "But you—you come from nowhere. You step in, and suddenly you care more than anyone else. Why?"
Hanae held her breath for a moment, then answered clearly and firmly.
"Because broken spirits are still spirits. Because one torn bond can rot and spread if left unchecked."
Merek blinked slowly, as if caught off guard by her answer.
Hanae rose gently to her feet, looking down at him.
"I'm not here to replace anyone. I'm here to make sure you don't drown in your own grief. Whether you like it or not."
She turned and walked toward the door, but paused before reaching it.
This time, her voice softened, deeper, but unwavering.
"Even if your people have truly given up—you're not alone."
She glanced back just enough for him to see the sincerity in her eyes.
"I promise you, I won't give up until I find Lucia. And until I uncover the truth."
"Whether you believe me or not—I'll keep walking."
Merek didn't answer. His fingers still clenched his knees, his body unmoving.
But his gaze followed Hanae until she finally disappeared from the room.
—--
When Hanae stepped out, she found Aren waiting at the end of the hall.
"How is he?" Aren asked curtly.
"Deeply broken," Hanae said, "but the path isn't dead yet. Merek still has hope. Even if he refuses to call it that."
Aren exhaled heavily. "He's stubborn. And Rhett… he's worse."
"I'll wait for the introduction tomorrow."
Aren looked as if he wanted to warn her of something but settled with a nod instead.
"Hope you're ready."
"I'm just curious—why did you want me to work with this Rhett?" Hanae asked, halting her steps.
Aren sighed, as if he'd long prepared for that question.
"Because of Merek's spirit path… it's strongly tied to Rhett."
His gaze deepened. "They grew up together. Rhett is the last anchor keeping Merek here with us. He's the one holding Merek back from falling completely."
Hanae paused, thinking of the fractured spirit she'd seen surrounding Merek—fragile, but not yet severed.
"Aren't you worried that Rhett and I won't be able to cooperate? Why not choose someone else from his family—someone easier to work with?"
Hanae's tone was calm, her curiosity sincere—not a refusal, but a quiet question.
Aren's lips curved into a faint, almost tired smile.
"Because ease isn't what you need."
His eyes met hers, steady and sharp. "Rhett will push you. He'll question you. He'll force you to prove every word you say."
Hanae tilted her head slightly, a faint glimmer of amusement passing through her.
"You really don't like making things simple for people, do you?"
Aren let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but not quite.
"Simple paths rarely lead to the truth."
His gaze drifted for a moment, as if something heavier lingered in the back of his mind.
"And maybe…" his voice softened, touched by something distant, "…because Rhett also needs to be saved—from the anger that's been quietly eating away at him."
There was a weight in his words that made Hanae pause, her smile fading into something more thoughtful.
She didn't press him further.
Some truths, she understood, were meant to be discovered in time.