DISAPPEARANCE

A chill ran through the innkeeper's spine as he pushed open the door to Hemer's room. The bed was neatly made, the window slightly ajar, and the room empty. He frowned, his gaze darting around the small space. The man couldn't have simply vanished.

"Miss Aiya mentioned him just yesterday," the innkeeper muttered to himself, pacing the room. "And now he's gone?"

He checked the wardrobe, the bathroom, even under the bed, but there was no sign of the enigmatic stranger. Only the faintest trace of his presence lingered—the faint smell of earth and iron.

The villagers whispered of the mysterious man's sudden disappearance. Some claimed he'd been a fugitive; others suggested he was a wandering spirit. Aiya, hearing the gossip as she worked in the flower shop, felt an inexplicable sense of loss.

But Hemer was far from Seaside Village.

The air shimmered as Hemer materialized in the heart of the V-clan's dark, sprawling fortress. The towering black spires of the stronghold loomed against the blood-red moon, casting ominous shadows across the barren land.

The library of the V-clan was no ordinary archive. It was a labyrinth of ancient texts, its shelves carved from obsidian and lined with books bound in human skin and enchanted metals. The air was heavy with the weight of centuries-old secrets.

Hemer strode through the dimly lit aisles, his expression tense. His heart raced as he searched for answers to the question that had plagued him since he'd seen Aiya. Who was she? And why did she look exactly like the woman from his visions centuries ago?

Finally, he found the section he sought: Prophecies and Bloodlines. His fingers skimmed the spines of the books until he found one with a title that sent a jolt through him.

The Last Heiress.

He pulled it from the shelf and opened it, but to his dismay, the pages were blank.

A voice behind him made him whirl around, his instincts on high alert. "Looking for something, brother?"

It was Karth, one of Leek's loyal sentinels. He leaned against the doorframe, his smirk as sharp as a blade.

"I need this book," Hemer said, his tone curt.

Karth raised an eyebrow. "You won't find anything in it. Every book about the heiress has been stripped of its contents. Leek has them all."

Hemer's jaw tightened. "Where is he?"

"In his study, as always," Karth replied, his smirk fading. "But I wouldn't bother him if I were you. He's been… restless lately."

The heavy oak doors to Leek's study stood closed, the carved reliefs on their surface depicting scenes of conquest and bloodshed. Hemer hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle. He hadn't seen his stepbrother in years, and their last encounter had not ended on good terms.

Still, he pushed the doors open, stepping into the room.

Leek sat at a massive desk, his back to the door. The flickering light of a dozen candles cast his silhouette in shadow. His black cloak draped over the chair, and his long fingers tapped absently against the armrest.

"Why are you here, Hemer?" Leek's voice was low, his tone sharp enough to cut.

Hemer stepped forward, his gaze fixed on his brother. "I need the books on the heiress."

At that, Leek turned. His crimson eyes bore into Hemer with an intensity that could freeze blood. "The heiress? Why would you care about her?"

Hemer met his gaze, his resolve unshaken. "Because I think she's alive."

For a moment, silence hung in the room like a thick fog. Then Leek laughed—a hollow, bitter sound.

"Alive?" he repeated, standing and moving to the window. "You've always had an overactive imagination, brother."

Hemer clenched his fists. "I saw her, Leek. She's real. And I think she's in danger."

Leek turned back to him, his expression darkening. "Do you know what you're saying? The heiress is a myth, a story told to keep lesser clans in line. You're chasing shadows."

"Am I?" Hemer challenged, stepping closer. "Then why have you kept all the records about her? Why strip the books in the library? What are you afraid of?"

Leek's eyes narrowed. "You presume much, Hemer. Perhaps too much."

As Hemer spoke, a memory tugged at the edge of Leek's mind—a dream he'd had countless times.

He stood in a burning field, flames licking at the hem of his cloak. Across the fire, a woman stood. Her silver hair glowed like moonlight, her green eyes piercing through the chaos. She didn't speak, but her presence was overwhelming, a force that made his chest ache with a pain he couldn't name.

And then she would disappear, leaving him alone in the inferno.

Leek's grip on the windowsill tightened. He hadn't told anyone about the dreams, not even his most trusted advisors. But the image of the woman haunted him, her face etched into his mind like a curse.

"Leave," he said abruptly, his voice cold.

Hemer didn't move. "Leek, if you know something, tell me. If she's real, then we need to protect her. You've seen what the other clans will do if they find her first."

Leek's gaze was like a storm, swirling with anger and something else—something more vulnerable. "Do not speak of things you don't understand, Hemer. Leave, before I make you."

Hemer hesitated, his heart pounding. Then he turned and walked out, the weight of his brother's words heavy on his shoulders.

Back in his quarters, Hemer paced the room, his mind racing. Leek's reaction had only confirmed his suspicions. The heiress was more than a myth.

But what was she to him? Why had she appeared in his visions during his cultivation, and why did she now exist in the mortal realm?

He thought of Aiya, her face as vivid in his memory as the woman in his dreams. He refuse to believe that she was the woman in his vision but yet still in shocked she's in the human realm. "Or am I overthinking " Hermer said to himself.