Three days passed by smoothly in a flash. They felt fast, yet slow.
Training continued as usual. Morning vocal practice. Afternoon dance drills. Evening breathing lessons. Elara's voice was much… better. The cracks were fewer now. When she sang low notes, they remained alright. When she tried higher notes, they trembled but they did not break as badly as before. But every small improvement made her heart feel lighter.
During the night, she practiced quietly. Sometimes alone. Sometimes with Lyra humming beside her, always off-key but still pulling her serious expression.
Still, even with training filling her days, Elara's thoughts were somewhere else.
To her grandfather in Crelou.
The thought of him sat heavy in her chest, day and night. When she closed her eyes, she remembered his rough hands, always smelling of soil. His old hat. The way he squinted when the sun was too bright. The way he smiled whenever she sang.
In her past life, she had missed so many chances to see him before he died. She told herself she was busy. She told herself she would visit later. But the Later never came. Now, every memory hurt.
The training school announced the monthly leave. Trainees were allowed to go home for two days. Most of the trainees were thrilled. Elara was amongst those who did not hesitate even for a second.
She was going home.
–
The train ride to Crelou felt longer than she remembered. Elara sat by the window, her bag on her lap while her hands rested on it as if she was afraid it might disappear. Outside, the city slowly faded away. Tall buildings turned into smaller ones. The roads became quieter. And then hills began to rise in the distance.
Green. Everywhere. The air felt much cleaner and refreshing.
As the train moved deeper, valleys appeared between mountains. Waterfalls cut through stone cliffs. Clouds hung low, brushing against the mountain peaks. Elara pressed her forehead against the glass.
She remembered this view. She had taken this same train years ago, sitting beside her grandfather. He had bought her snacks from a vendor and told her stories about the mountains. She had nodded, half listening. Her mind was busy with songs and dreams far away.
Now she listened to the silence instead.
"I'm back," she whispered.
When the train finally stopped, the sign read Crelou. Her heart jumped in excitement. Crelou was just as she remembered. The city rested between hills and forests, protected like a secret. The Aurelian government had long declared it a heritage city. No tall buildings or loud factories were allowed here. No heavy pollution. That was why film crews loved this place.
Most houses were built in the old Aurelian style. Stone walls mixed with dark wood. Slanted roofs with tiled patterns. Small courtyards hidden behind wooden gates. Windows carved with simple symbols passed down from older times.
Her footsteps echoed softly as she walked through the green streets.
Trees lined both sides of the road. The wind carried the sound of water from somewhere far away. Children ran past her, laughing.
Elara slowed her steps. This place had not changed. Her chest tightened as she walked closer to home. She wanted to run. She wanted to cry. She wanted to see him so badly it almost hurt to breathe.
But a loud crash from the forest road ahead broke her train of thought.
Elara froze.
Another sound followed. Metal scraping. Smoke started rising between trees. Someone is in danger. Her body moved before her mind did. She dropped her bag and ran toward the source of the sound.
A black car had crashed into a large tree deep in the forest path. The front was badly damaged. Smoke curled upwards.
This isn't right. Crelou's roads were very safe–and free.
After forcing her breath to stay calm. She walked closer to the car. Inside it, a man sat slumped against the seat. His head leaned to one side. Blood trickled down his temple. His eyes were half-open. He was not fully unconscious.
"Hey, can you hear me?" Elara called out.
His lashes fluttered. His eyes focused slowly.
"Yes," he said weakly.
Relief washed over her.
"Don't move. Just stay still."she said. She pulled off her jacket and pressed it gently against his bleeding head. Her hands shook, but her voice stayed calm.
"You're going to be fine," she said, even though she wasn't sure.She took out her phone and called emergency services. Her fingers moved fast. Her heart beat loudly in her ears.
As she waited, she finally looked at him properly. He looked young. Maybe in his early or mid twenties. He has sharp eyebrows. Defined jaw. Even injured, he looked striking. Too striking for a small place like Crelou.
Then it hit her. Her breath caught. She remembered him. Years later. A film set. A music company request. She and Relanie standing side by side. The director smiling at Relanie. This man talking to her, never sparing Elara a glance.
This is him. The actor. Fate had a strange sense of humor.
"You're lucky, someone will be here soon." Elara said softly.
He looked at her, trying to smile. "Thank you."
She noticed something odd then. The brake pedal looked damaged. The lines near it didn't look right.
Her heart sank.
This was not an accident.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Elara stood up slowly, picked up her bag, and then turned toward the place where she had dropped her bag..