Chapter 4 – Whispers of the Past

The night was still, the only sound coming from the rustling leaves as the wind swept through the trees. The moon cast a pale glow over the small wooden cabin where Charles sat, his fingers gripping an old, worn-out photograph.

The weight of the past pressed heavily on his chest.

He ran a rough hand through his messy black hair, his dark eyes staring at the picture of Dorothy. She was smiling—so bright, so full of life.

But now…

She was gone.

Charles swallowed the lump in his throat, his gaze shifting toward the drawer where he had kept all the memories of her—letters he never read, rings he never returned, and photographs that held too much pain.

The wooden floor creaked as tiny footsteps approached.

"Papa?"

His heart clenched at the soft voice.

Alicia stood by the doorway, rubbing her sleepy blue eyes. Her long black hair was tangled from tossing in bed.

"Why are you crying?" she asked, tilting her head.

Charles quickly wiped his face and forced a smile. "I'm not crying, honey. Just thinking."

Alicia narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. "Liar."

He let out a soft chuckle despite himself. His daughter was too smart for her own good.

Alicia climbed onto his lap, her tiny hands reaching for the photograph in his hand. She stared at it curiously.

"Is this Mama?"

Charles inhaled sharply.

"Yes."

Alicia studied the picture before looking back at him. "You miss her a lot, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Then why don't we go find her?" Alicia asked innocently, blinking up at him. "Maybe she's lost, like when I got lost at the market last time. Maybe she's waiting for us."

Charles felt a pang of pain so deep it nearly stole his breath.

"She's not lost, sweetheart." His voice was hoarse. "She's… somewhere we can't reach."

Alicia frowned. "Like the moon?"

He smiled faintly. "Yeah… like the moon."

Alicia sighed dramatically and leaned against his chest. "I don't like the moon. It's always far away."

Charles held her close, his grip tightening protectively around his daughter. "I know, honey."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the cold night air wrapping around them.

Then, Alicia spoke again. "Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"I had a dream."

Charles looked down at her. "A dream? What kind of dream?"

Alicia hesitated before whispering, "A lady was calling my name. She had long hair, like me, and blue eyes like mine. She was crying and saying, 'I'm sorry.'"

Charles stiffened. His heartbeat quickened.

Alicia looked up at him. "Do you think it was Mama?"

His throat went dry.

Was it possible?

Was Dorothy trying to reach them even after all these years?

Charles forced a small smile, trying to push away the unsettling feeling in his gut. "It was just a dream, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."

Alicia pouted but nodded. "Okay."

She kissed his cheek before hopping off his lap and running back to bed.

Charles sat there for a long time, staring at the moon.

Something didn't feel right.

Something was coming.

And for the first time in years, a shiver of unease ran down his spine.

---

The Next Morning

The first light of dawn filtered through the cabin windows, casting golden rays over the small wooden home. Birds chirped outside, their songs blending with the distant rustling of leaves in the morning breeze.

Alicia stirred in her sleep, her small body curled beneath the thick blankets. The faint scent of coffee filled the air, drawing her from her dreams.

She yawned, stretching her arms as she sat up. The moment she opened her eyes, her stomach growled loudly.

"Papa! I'm starving!" she whined, kicking off the blanket dramatically.

Charles, already standing by the small stove, turned around with a smirk. "Good morning to you too, little monster."

Alicia pouted, crossing her arms. "I'm not a monster. I'm a princess. And princesses don't starve."

Charles chuckled, flipping a pancake onto a plate. "Then come eat, Your Highness."

Alicia grinned and jumped off the bed, her feet pattering against the wooden floor as she rushed to the table.

The cabin was small but cozy. The walls were lined with old bookshelves, and a worn-out couch sat near the fireplace. It wasn't much, but it was home.

Alicia dug into her pancakes, humming happily. "Papa, what are we doing today?"

Charles poured himself a cup of coffee and sat across from her. "Well, after breakfast, we'll go into town. We need some supplies."

Alicia perked up. "Can we get candy?"

Charles raised an eyebrow. "You still have candy from last time."

Alicia gasped. "That was two days ago! That's, like, forever!"

Charles chuckled and ruffled her hair. "We'll see."

Alicia scrunched her nose. "That means no."

Before Charles could respond, there was a sudden knock at the door.

His smile faded instantly.

Alicia noticed the change in his expression. "Papa?"

Charles stood up, his muscles tensing. No one ever visited them.

He slowly walked toward the door, his heart pounding.

Taking a deep breath, he opened it.

A man in a dark suit stood outside, his face partially hidden by the shadow of his hat. His sharp blue eyes locked onto Charles's with an unreadable expression.

"Mr. White," the man said in a calm, almost too-smooth voice. "It's been a long time."

Charles's grip on the door tightened. "Who are you?"

The man smirked. "Let's just say I work for someone who's very interested in your past."

Alicia peeked out from behind Charles, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. "Papa, who is he?"

Charles stepped in front of her protectively.

His blood ran cold.

He knew.

The past wasn't done with him yet