The path downhill was quieter than usual.
Aidan carried two sacks of freshly gathered apples, their weight barely a concern for his frame — yet his steps felt heavy. His expression was unreadable, too still for comfort. The breeze whispered through the trees lining the orchard, but even nature seemed cautious of disturbing him.
Adeena trailed just behind, basket in hand. Her gaze flickered to him again and again. Something was wrong. She knew her brother — his silence wasn't the usual kind. He was tense. Withdrawn.
She opened her mouth to speak, lips parting with the thought of mentioning the upcoming party, but the moment she caught sight of the veins bulging on his forehead and the slight twitch of his jaw… she swallowed it back.
Not the right time.
Aidan's heartbeat thudded too fast in his chest. He could hear it — feel it. Loud and irregular. His breaths were shallow, every inhale a struggle to hold, every exhale thick with discomfort. Then came the sharpness — a stabbing pain behind his ribs that made him grit his teeth.
He stumbled slightly, pretending to drop a few apples from the sack.
"Ugh," he muttered, bending to pick them up. But in truth, it gave him a moment to crouch down and hide his face from his sister. One hand clutched the apples, the other pressed flat over his chest.
This hurts…
He whispered under his breath, "So much for healing properties, huh? I can't even fix myself."
Cold sweat gathered at his brow. His fingers had gone numb.
"Addy?" a voice came — gentle, uncertain.
He looked up sharply.
"Yes?" he said, blinking.
Adeena looked puzzled. "I… I didn't call you."
His expression didn't shift. He stood slowly, straightening his back and inhaling, measured and slow. It wasn't natural breathing — it was forced.
"But… why?" she asked again, stepping closer, concern finally breaking through her hesitation. Her eyes scanned his pale face, his trembling hands, the too-careful posture he held.
She could feel it now. A subtle, invisible thread between them — off-tuned. Off-balance. Not screaming danger, but humming it, warning her in its silence.
They were twins — blood-linked in ways no one ever explained. Unlike the pureborns of their kind, their connection was messy, fogged by the human half. Still, some part of her knew he was suffering.
No one had taught them how to read the signs. No one dared to teach them. Their bloodline was a secret written in curses and war, a past erased from every scroll in Gloria.
And if anyone discovered what they truly were — what species had led to the last great war centuries ago — the cost would be more than exile.
It would be annihilation.
"You're quiet again," she finally said, trying to keep her voice light. "More than usual."
Aidan didn't look back. "Tired."
She didn't believe him.
She could tell from the way his shoulders were pulled too tight beneath his shirt. From the stiffness in his jaw. From the way he hadn't laughed in days. Maybe weeks.
"I wanted to tell you something," she tried again. "About the—"
He stopped so suddenly that the sack slid from his shoulder and dropped onto the grass. Adeena flinched. His back was to her, head slightly tilted — as if listening.
"What is it?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
Then, after a moment, he muttered, "The wind's off."
"Off?"
"It's blowing toward us," he said, eyes scanning the orchard. "But I can smell... smoke."
They rounded the bend, and the cabin behind the wildflowers came into view.
Their shared space. Their hidden corner of peace.
The roof was patched with moss. Wildflowers surrounded the front like a barrier of color and perfume — lavender, chamomile, little golden stars. It looked almost too perfect. But Aidan didn't look relieved. His gaze slid past it, into the trees beyond.
"Go inside," he said quietly. "I'll get water."
Adeena hesitated. "You're sure?"
"Go."
She obeyed.
The moment her shadow disappeared through the door, Aidan exhaled. His chest rose and fell once — then again, slower. He turned and made his way to the back of the cabin, toward the rain barrels.
The woods were thicker behind the structure. The wind barely touched this far.
As he rounded the back corner, something moved.
He froze.
It was quick — just a flicker. A shadow cutting across the fence. It could've been a squirrel. A fox. But Aidan's stomach clenched anyway.
He crouched by the barrel and twisted the tap, watching water slosh into the tin bucket below.
That's when he heard it.
"Aidan…"
It wasn't loud. It wasn't whispered, either. Just… familiar.
Aidan's eyes darted to the trees.
"Adeena?"
Nothing.
Then a low rustle from the fence line. Perched there — a bird. Slight, black-feathered. Unmoving.
And its eyes were gold.
Not amber. Not yellow. Molten gold, glowing slightly even in the shadow.
The breath hitched in his throat. His chest tightened — not from fear, but memory. He stepped closer. The bird tilted its head. That same voice stirred again, but now it came from inside.
A thread pulling from his ribs. A presence he'd locked away.
"You're not him," he whispered. "You're not supposed to be here."
The bird chirped once — soft, low, almost mournful — and then flew into the canopy, leaving a single feather behind.
Aidan stumbled back, water forgotten, palms shaking.
It wasn't just rare bird species that could be found in the Wisteria region. Those who kept them for entertainment often met a fatal end, for it was considered one of Wisteria's sacred treasures. But what was it doing here? These birds weren't supposed to be in Gloria. The land wasn't suitable for them.
And...
If it's who he thought it was...
That couldn't be. That individual was dead. For good.
When he returned, Adeena didn't ask why his hands trembled or why he looked over his shoulder twice.
They worked in silence, sorting fruit and sealing jars of syrupy preserve. The sun crept lower, pulling gold across the floorboards.
Just before they finished, Adeena finally spoke.
"You'll come home early tonight?"
Aidan's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "Maybe."
She gave him a look. "You always say that."
"Because maybe keeps you hoping."
He paused. Aidan looked directly into his sister's eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere tonight. Dmitri is out of Gloria."
Adeena bit her lip. Hearing that, she guessed Dmitri must have gone to sell something he extracted from his brother.
She clicked her tongue. "You'll be here tomorrow morning too?"
Aidan furrowed his brows.
Which means I can't go out… I need to stop by the store.
But—
If he's in the house, he won't see me buying the dress?
"What are you thinking so hard for? Are you up to something?"
She laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes. Something heavy pressed on both of them.
Adeena looked up from the pot she'd begun boiling. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
"You don't look okay."
He said nothing. Sat beside her. Picked up a knife and began slicing fruit.
"I was going to tell you," she tried again, this time more carefully. "About the ball. Lady Dahlia said there's going to be dancing. A real orchestra from the city. Even—"
"You shouldn't go."
She blinked. "What?"
He didn't meet her eyes. "Something feels wrong."
"It's just a ball."
"It's never just a ball. Not with people like them."
Silence stretched between them. Only the sound of the knife rhythmically hitting the board.
"You can't keep protecting me forever," Adeena said softly. "You're not the only one who's scared."
He paused, blade held mid-air.
"I'm not scared," he said — but his voice cracked like glass.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
The sun dipped low by the time they packed the jars and stepped outside.
Aidan's mind was still spinning. The voice. The bird. The feeling — like someone was watching.
Then, from across the orchard path, they saw someone stumbling toward the village road.
A man. Gaunt. Clothes torn. He moved like his bones were fighting against his muscles.
Adeena pulled Aidan's sleeve. "Who's that?"
Aidan squinted. The stranger's face was streaked with something dark — maybe blood, maybe dirt. But what made Aidan freeze were the man's eyes: wide, glassy, and full of something like… betrayal.
The man turned his head — locked eyes.
Behind him, something followed, limping — old, looking at whatever was in the man's embrace.
The kitchen of their estate had been renovated by Aidan last year. There were three kitchens: one in his cabin, one in the main house for their mother's cooking, and one outside — for times like now, when he and Adeena wanted to spend time together, easily picking from the farm.
The lady of the house, their mother, saw what was coming too. But her son had hinted she should stay hidden… just in case it led to something bad.
Or maybe…
That man was leading something else toward them.
Bang!
A sudden knock on the door.
Calling for him.
Not his mother.