The man appeared at the front gate. No body saw him arrive.
No footsteps.
No sound at all.
One moment, the space was empty. The next, someone was standing there—
It was as if the world had simply decided he should be there and adjusted itself accordingly.
..
[Inside]
"Ouch!"
Vesperyn jerked awake as something solid slammed into his stomach, forcing the air out of his lungs in a sharp, painful gasp. His vision blurred for a second, and by the time he could breathe again, he already knew exactly who was responsible.
"Get off," he groaned, shoving weakly at the weight on top of him.
A laugh answered him—too energetic for this hour of the morning.
"Morning to you too," Darian said cheerfully, bouncing once for emphasis before finally rolling off him. "You sleep like the dead, you know that?"
Vesperyn turned his head and glared at his brother through half-closed eyes. Darian was grinning down at him, hair a complete mess, looking far too pleased with himself.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Vesperyn snapped. "It's a holiday."
"I know," Darian said. "That's why I woke you up."
"That makes no sense."
"Mom's calling you. Or she was. She stopped, which means she'll start again in five minutes with a louder voice. I'm doing you a favor, Ves."
Vesperyn let his head fall back onto the pillow, seriously weighing whether the local courts would consider fratricide a justifiable response to being woken up before the sun was fully up. He decided, tentatively, that it wouldn't be.
"Get out of my room," Vesperyn said flatly.
Darian ignored him, already backing toward the door. "Also, I'm using your bathroom."
That got Vesperyn moving.
He sat up sharply. "No."
Darian was already backing toward the door.
"Don't you dare—"
The bathroom door slammed shut.
A moment later, the sound of running water filled the room.
Vesperyn stared at the closed door, jaw tight.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood, rubbing his face with both hands. Whatever hope he'd had of going back to sleep evaporated instantly. There was no point arguing now—Darian would take as long as possible, just to be annoying.
"Barbarian," Vesperyn thought bitterly as he pulled on a clean shirt. "Absolute barbarian."
By the time he made his way downstairs, the smell of food had already filled the house.
His parents were in the kitchen.
His mother stood near the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back loosely as she worked. She moved quickly, switching between tasks without pause, as if her hands knew what to do before she consciously decided.
His father was beside her, holding a bowl and stirring with careful concentration, as though the fate of the meal depended entirely on him not making a mistake.
"Morning," his father said when he noticed Vesperyn. His tone was warm, mild—pleasant in the way it always was. "You're up early."
Vesperyn stopped just short of rolling his eyes.
"Morning," he replied anyway, taking a seat at the table.
His mother glanced over. "Did Darian wake you?"
"Yes."
"I told him not to jump on you."
"He didn't jump," Vesperyn said.
Darian's laughter echoed faintly from upstairs.
His father smiled faintly, the expression barely changing. Vesperyn watched him for a moment longer than necessary.
There was something about his father that had always bothered him—not in a dramatic way. Nothing obvious. Just a quiet, persistent oddness he'd never been able to put into words.
He was always here.
Not just in the house—present. Wherever his mother went, his father followed.
Vesperyn couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his father go somewhere alone.
Did he have friends? Vesperyn honestly couldn't say. He'd never seen any. No visits, no stories, no casual mentions. Everything revolved around the house. Around her.
Like a shadow, Vesperyn thought.
The thought came and went quickly, dismissed as unimportant.
Still, he loved him. That much was true.
Darian came down the stairs a moment later, hair wet and dripping.
The bell rang.
A sharp, clean sound cut through the room.
Ding.
His mother looked up. "Darian, could you check the gate?"
Darian sighed "Why me?"
"Because you're already standing," she said without missing a beat.
Darian muttered something under his breath and headed for the door.
Vesperyn leaned back in his chair, listening absently as his brother's footsteps crossed the hall. Visitors were rare. They didn't get many these days—certainly not early in the morning.
The gate creaked open.
There was a pause.
Longer than it should have been.
Vesperyn felt an odd, fleeting sensation then—nothing clear enough to name. Just a slight tightening in his chest.
At the door, Darian stopped.
A tall man stood on the other side of the gate.
He had black hair, neatly kept, and wore a long, dark coat that looked strangely out of place against the quiet familiarity of the street. He stood perfectly still, hands relaxed at his sides, posture straight without being stiff.
He looked past Darian.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then the man raised his eyes slightly and looked into House.
He walked forward, and Darian found himself stumbling back a step without knowing why.
"Hey—" Darian started.
The man didn't look at him.
"Who's there?" their mother called from the kitchen.
Vesperyn heard her mother footsteps.
Then she came into view to see who was there.
She froze.
Color drained from her face so fast it felt unnatural, like someone had wiped it away.
"You…" she whispered.
The man stopped a few steps into the house.
"How," Inara said, her voice barely holding together, "did you find me?"
She moved.
Light erupted from her raised hand—It spread outward like a living thing, folding in on itself, forming a translucent barrier around Vesperyn and Darian.
Her white hair lifted, strands drifting as if gravity had forgotten her.
"Don't move," she said sharply, "Both of you."
Vesperyn barely had time to understand what was happening.
His father stepped forward.
"Inara—" his father said.
The man turned his head.
That was all.
There was no sound.
No flash.
His father collapsed.