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I woke with a sharp inhale, my eyes snapping open—only to squeeze them shut again as a flood of silver light filled my vision.

The sudden brightness burned, and for a moment, I was lost between dreams and waking.

I tried to move, pushing myself up, but pain—raw and searing—tore through me like lightning.

My limbs buckled, and I collapsed back onto the bed, breathless.

Then, like a dam breaking, the memories crashed into me.

Mother. Her loss of power. The destruction. The inevitable fight.

My head spun as the weight of it all settled over me.

I lay still, struggling to process everything.

My body felt like a barren desert, cracked and drained of life.

The moonlight spilling through the tall windows, the fireflies drifting lazily in the air—they were water, cool and nourishing.

Without effort, I felt their essence seep into me, threading through my veins drop by drop.

But my thirst for it was endless, and the slow trickle was nowhere near enough.

This was the natural way a nocturnal body absorbed essence—gradual and instinctive, especially in times of exhaustion. But it was slow, painstakingly so. And I was awake now.

Gritting my teeth, I reached for the fireflies, trying to draw them in faster.

They answered my call, gathering around me, their silver glow pulsing gently as they sank into my skin.

I could feel the energy trickling into my blood, but my mind was weak, unfocused.

My thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, and the process dragged on sluggishly.

Still, I persisted. Slowly, I guided the essence toward my heart—the most vital organ.

It needed to be filled first. I lost track of time as I worked, inching closer to stability.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I felt it—the faint, steady pulse of essence returning to my core.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stop the crushing emptiness.

I exhaled slowly and opened my eyes again.

The room was bathed in silver, the moon shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Its glow wrapped around me like a familiar embrace. I was home.

I let myself rest for a moment, letting the steady trickle of essence continue its work.

Next I filled my blood with essence which carried it to my organs, reviving them one by one with slow and steady delivery of essence, though the process was far from complete.

At least now, I didn’t feel like I was dying.

Then, the door creaked open.

I turned my head instinctively.

Elara stood in the doorway, her Greenish eyes wide with shock. For a second, she was frozen, lips parted as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Then, in an instant, she moved.

"Brother!" she cried.

Before I could react, she launched herself at me, crossing the room in a heartbeat.

She didn’t slow down. Actually running at full speed instead of walking.

I barely had time to brace myself before she crashed onto the bed—onto me. Pain jolted through my still-fragile body, but the air left my lungs in something closer to a laugh than a gasp.

"Had I not recovered some of my essence beforehand," I managed, my voice hoarse but amused, "I might have thought you were trying to kill me."

Elara gasped and pushed herself up slightly, her white hair tumbling around her face. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry!" she said quickly, eyes full of guilt. "I was just… too excited."

She tried to sit back, but I caught her wrist before she could move away. Gently, I pulled her down again, wrapping my arms around her tightly.

She stilled in my embrace, and for the first time since waking, I felt something other than pain—something warm, something safe.

Her body was firm and solid in my arms, like an anchor keeping me from drifting away. I buried my face in the crook of her neck and breathed her in. She smelled like the forest after rain, like fresh soil and wildflowers, both familiar and unknown.

Comfort. Home.

Elara let out a small sigh and hugged me back, her arms tightening around me. "You’re really awake," she whispered, as if afraid I might disappear.

I nodded slightly against her skin. "I am."

I stayed like that for a moment, holding her close. Perhaps it was the lingering helplessness from before, or the exhaustion of waking from such a severely depleted state, but the steady rhythm of her breathing, the way she fit against me—it was grounding, soothing.

But after a good session of cuddling, a bit of kissing—comforting at first and wild later—I finally remembered the important stuff.

"How long has it been?" I asked, tilting my head to look at her.

Elara met my gaze, her golden eyes somber. "A month."

I stiffened. A whole month? I had expected a time lapse, maybe a few days—a week at most. But an entire month? That was unexpected.

She must have noticed my shock because she continued, "Father and Mother were the same."

That only deepened my confusion.

"What?" I breathed, slowly sitting up against the headboard, though I kept Elara in my embrace.

"Mother woke after a week," she explained, watching my face carefully. "She was weak, but she handled the urgent matters that needed her attention."

I frowned. "And Father?"

She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "He hasn’t woken up."

That made me frown.

Father was far stronger than me. If I had suffered from essence depletion, then at worst, he should have been in the same state. If I was awake now, then he should be too.

But he wasn’t.

Something was wrong.

Just as I was about to voice my thoughts, the door opened again.

A familiar presence filled the room before I even saw her.

Mother stepped inside, dressed in a simple robe, her silver eyes—now somehow the same shade as mine—landing on me instantly. For a brief moment, her expression remained unreadable. But then, in the very next second, it softened.

"Cael, love, you’re awake," she murmured, her voice calm and composed—far more controlled than my lovely sister’s had been. Yet, despite the grace in her movements as she approached the bed, I could sense the relief beneath it all.

I smiled faintly. "I knew I wasn’t imagining it," she said as she sat beside me, her fingers brushing my face with familiar warmth.

"How are you feeling, love?"

"Not the best, I’ll admit," I said with a small shrug. "But alive."

Her silver eyes dimmed with something unreadable. "I’m sorry," she whispered.

I reached up, cupping her face, my thumb brushing against her soft skin. "It’s alright," I assured her.

Elara still lay against my chest, her breathing slow and steady, and I continued to run my fingers through her hair absentmindedly.

With my other hand, I cradled Mother’s face, drawing her closer.

Her beauty was timeless, her presence unwavering.

I leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss against her lips—soft, warm, familiar.

When I pulled back, I whispered, "I’m fine now."

She exhaled softly, her fingers tightening slightly against my cheek, as if reassuring herself that I was real.

"I was just talking to Elara about Father," I told her. Her expression turned serious.

"We will visit him soon," she said after a pause. "Then, you will understand everything."

And I nodded at that letting it go for now.

Mother shifted, settling beside me on the bed.

One of her arms curled around me, holding me gently from the other side, her warmth blending with Elara’s.

I exhaled slowly, allowing myself to sink into their embrace—Elara’s taut, protective hold on one side, and Mother’s soft, steady presence on the other.

Their scents enveloped me—Elara’s wild forest and fresh earth, Mother’s soothing milky fragrance.

I felt at peace.