Blood took one second too long to fall.
Ereos noticed.
That extra second.
Before, she would not have cared.
Now she did.
She watched the dark droplet slide across her open palm. Black. Far too dense to be blood.
She did not look away.
The bone knife remained buried in her flesh, yet the pain...
It was not the pain she remembered.
"...Qel'vethra valür..."
She spoke the words slowly, as though her mouth still had not fully adapted to them.
Or as if something else were speaking through her.
The mirrors began to crack.
Thin fractures crawled across the glass like living veins.
Ereos raised her gaze only slightly.
She did not want to look.
But she needed to confirm it.
The reflection...
Did not match.
Her body still stood there.
But something stood behind it.
Something breathing out of rhythm.
Its chest rose a moment too late.
Its head tilted before hers did.
Ereos frowned.
"I did not come here to watch," she muttered, sounding more irritated than afraid. "I came here to ask."
The air tightened.
Not metaphorically.
The room itself seemed to contract around her, as though the walls had inhaled and forgotten how to exhale.
No answer came immediately.
That irritated her even more.
She drove the knife deeper into her side.
This time, she felt something.
Not pain.
Something closer to pressure.
Like her body merely remembered that it was supposed to hurt.
"Give me a daughter."
Silence.
Ereos tilted her head slightly.
Waited.
Nothing.
She clicked her tongue.
"Do not make me repeat myself."
Then—
The voice did not echo through the room.
It appeared.
Directly inside her mind, invading the space where thoughts had once existed.
"You are no longer human enough to ask," it said.
"But neither are you enough of a thing to demand."
A faint smile crossed Ereos' face.
Not amusement.
Recognition.
"Then interpret it however you want," she replied.
"But grant it."
The mirrors stopped cracking.
Now...
They were watching.
Not reflecting.
Watching.
And something beyond the glass finally paid attention.
The silence that followed felt enormous.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Then something changed in the air.
It was not a sound.
Nor movement.
It was...
Displacement.
As though space itself had been forced aside to allow something else through.
The temperature dropped instantly.
The candles surrounding the ritual circle dimmed without going out.
Ereos felt it before she understood it.
She lowered her gaze.
Her blood was no longer falling.
It was gathering.
Floating before her in slow spirals, twisting through the air as though responding to an invisible gravity.
Ereos frowned.
"...Do it," she whispered, quieter this time.
Still no answer came.
But her body reacted.
A violent pull inside her side forced her slightly forward.
Not pain.
Invasion.
Her fingers tightened around the knife hard enough for bone to creak.
Something...
Was pushing from inside her.
Ereos clenched her teeth.
"No..." she whispered, more from instinct than fear.
The pressure increased.
Her breathing became uneven.
Not because she lacked air...
But because her body no longer understood how to respond.
Something inside her was changing shape too quickly.
Then—
Something tore open.
Not violently.
Precisely.
Like a careful incision made by unseen hands.
Her side split open from within.
Black blood spilled into the air, yet none of it touched the floor.
It vanished before it could.
Ereos did not scream.
Her eyes remained fixed forward.
Watching.
Recording.
Learning.
From the opening...
Something small emerged.
Far too small.
Covered in black blood and something paler...
Almost translucent.
It did not cry.
It did not move.
For one terrible moment, the room became completely silent.
Even the mirrors stopped breathing.
Ereos extended her arms without thinking.
The creature fell into them.
Light.
Warm.
Alive.
For one endless second...
Nothing happened.
Only silence.
Then—
The child opened her eyes.
Golden.
But they did not shine.
They absorbed.
The candlelight around the room seemed weaker the moment those eyes appeared, as though the glow itself were being swallowed.
Ereos felt something tighten inside her chest.
Not emotion.
Not exactly.
Something older.
Awkward.
Ancient.
Like remembering a feeling that had never belonged to her in the first place.
The child moved her lips slightly.
Not crying.
Not breathing.
Speaking.
Fragments of sound slipped from her mouth in broken whispers.
"...Lu...min...a..."
Ereos immediately stiffened.
"No," she said quietly, almost automatically.
The child looked directly at her.
Not randomly.
Not instinctively.
Deliberately.
As though she understood the word she had spoken.
As though she understood everything.
The silence returned.
But this time...
It was not empty.
Something else was inside the room now.
Ereos felt it first through the mirrors.
Not within the reflections.
Behind them.
Something that had not participated in the ritual.
Something that had not been invited.
Her expression hardened instantly.
"You are taking nothing else," she said without raising her voice.
No answer came.
But the feeling remained.
Watching.
Waiting.
The child...
Smiled.
Not like an infant.
Too precise.
Too aware.
Too intentional.
Ereos slowly lowered her gaze toward the girl in her arms.
And for the first time since the ritual began...
She truly hesitated.
"...Eclipse," she whispered.
The name did not feel chosen.
It felt remembered.
As though something inside the room had already decided it long before she spoke.
The child blinked slowly.
And in that exact instant—
Ereos felt the price.
Not as pain.
Not as punishment.
But as certainty.
Something inside her...
Had been marked.
Forever.
A dark tear slid slowly down her cheek.
Ereos did not wipe it away.
But neither did she ignore it.
"It does not matter," she said at last.
And this time...
It sounded like a lie.
The mirrors cracked again.
Softly.
One after another.
Tiny fractures spreading across the glass like veins beneath skin.
Ereos did not look toward them.
She already knew better.
The child remained silent in her arms.
Watching the darkness beyond the room with eyes far too old for something that had only just been born.
Then—
Something moved behind the mirrors.
Fast.
Wrong.
A shape without form.
A presence without body.
Ereos' grip tightened around Eclipse instantly.
The candles flickered violently.
For one brief moment, every reflection in the room changed.
Not Ereos.
Not the child.
Someone else.
A tall silhouette standing motionless behind them.
Its face could not be seen clearly.
Only two dark eyes.
Endless.
Hungry.
The mirrors shattered at once.
Glass exploded across the chamber.
The candles died instantly.
And the room fell into darkness.
But not complete darkness.
Because Eclipse's golden eyes were still open.
Watching.
And somewhere within the black silence beyond the broken mirrors...
Something smiled back.
Summer had always been quiet here.
Or at least...
That was what I kept trying to believe.
I opened my eyes slowly, still carrying that irritating sensation that I had forgotten something important.
Above me, the Tree of Thar'nöth remained motionless.
Immense.
Silent.
Watching.
As though it had been staring long before I arrived beneath its branches.
It was not a normal tree.
It never had been.
But nobody ever spoke about that.
I exhaled quietly and pressed a hand against my temple.
"Again..."
It did not hurt as much as the other times.
Only that familiar pressure.
Like something inside my skull was slowly trying to push outward.
I lowered my gaze.
The book was still resting in my hands.
I did not remember closing it.
My thumb brushed absentmindedly across the cover.
"If humans truly understood what exists beyond the stars..." I murmured softly, "they would probably stop looking up at them."
"Or stop writing about them."
The voice was not loud.
But it was too clear.
I looked up immediately.
She was standing there.
I had not heard footsteps.
No movement.
No warning.
She was simply...
There.
Tall.
Perfect posture.
Golden hair resting across her shoulders with unnatural precision, as though even the wind hesitated to touch it.
Her violet eyes watched me calmly.
Too calmly.
Not human calm.
Something colder.
Her skin was pale.
Not sickly.
Just...
Too flawless.
Too clean.
I swallowed slowly.
"I didn't hear you approach."
She tilted her head slightly.
"I was not trying to."
Her voice was soft.
Elegant.
Controlled.
But completely cold.
There was no unnecessary emotion within it.
Not even the slightest fluctuation.
I carefully closed the book.
"You read this too?"
She raised the copy in her hands.
The same novel.
But unlike mine...
Hers looked untouched.
No wear.
No folded corners.
No imperfections.
"I own every edition," she replied. "Some are more honest than others."
I frowned slightly.
"That sounds incredibly pretentious."
"Possibly," she answered without offense. "That does not make it untrue."
Silence settled between us.
Above our heads, the leaves of the Tree of Thar'nöth shifted softly in the wind.
For a brief moment...
I had the uncomfortable feeling the sound was not coming from the wind.
But from the tree itself.
"I am Nighthos," I said eventually.
Her expression did not change.
But something in her gaze sharpened slightly.
"I know."
I blinked.
"...How?"
A faint smile touched her lips.
Not a real smile.
Just enough to make me notice it.
"I am Natasha Eleipsi," she said quietly.
"Your new teacher."
Something inside my chest tightened instantly.
Rejection.
Immediate.
Instinctive.
Like my body understood something my mind still could not.
"What a coincidence..."
"No," she replied immediately.
"It is not."
The silence that followed felt wrong.
Heavy.
Oppressive.
I lowered my gaze for only a second.
Just one second.
But when I looked back—
She was gone.
I frowned and stood up quickly.
"...Great."
I looked around.
Nothing.
Only the tree.
Always the tree.
I looked back down at the book in my hands.
Something dark stained the cover.
A small mark near the edge.
I touched it carefully.
Wet.
My fingers slowly pulled away.
"I really don't like this..."
The wind moved again through the roots of Thar'nöth.
This time...
I heard it more clearly.
Not words.
But close.
Too close.
I pressed the book tightly against my chest.
For a brief moment, my reflection appeared faintly across the dark surface of the cover.
Pale skin.
Eyes too dark.
Too tired.
And for one terrible second...
They did not look like mine.
I looked away immediately.
"I should leave..."
I stepped backward.
Then another step.
And without fully understanding why...
I could not bring myself to turn my back on the tree.