Thirteen: Mundus Fictus.

Next chapter update will be on Tuesday 25th March.

Lovey-dovey behavior and shopping were never really Melinda's thing. Countless times, she had nearly gagged at the sight of two couples strolling through the mall, casually picking out gifts and clothing for themselves—and occasionally, even for her—though everything was, of course, in black. The relentless display of overt affection and consumer excess always made her feel out of place.

She was already exhausted when they finally stepped out of the car in front of the mansion. Hunger gnawed at her stomach—a constant reminder of the draining magic infusion she'd undergone. She'd heard that MIPs (Magic Fusion Packs) were exorbitantly expensive, and she couldn't help but wonder how Tod had managed to get one, and even more remarkably, if he had enough to spare for her, given that she was a dark magic-type user.

Melinda pushed that thought aside and forced a smile when Maggie asked if she was alright. The trio entered the house, which, despite once being filled with bustling maids, now stood eerily empty. A chill ran down Melinda's spine as her magic frequency spiked; she knew exactly what that meant. Her innate power surged only in the presence of death—whether in graveyards, mortuaries, or places where fresh tragedy had just occurred.

Without warning, Melinda spun toward the door. "Maggie, stay back!" she cried out as she heard what sounded like a gunshot whizzing past her, narrowly missing Maggie. In an instant, Tod reacted, pulling Maggie close and spinning around to shield her. His body intercepted the projectile, which slammed into the wall with a resounding crash, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

Almost immediately, the lights flickered and went out, plunging them into complete darkness. Melinda tried to move toward the door, but an unseen force held her back. "I can't get out," Maggie called from behind the door, her voice trembling with fear. "None of us can," Melinda replied softly, her tone heavy with resignation. "We're trapped in a Mundus Fictus already."

"Shit!" Tod shouted, his eyes slowly glowing a fierce red. "We're fucking surrounded!" His urgent declaration sent a jolt through them all.

Melinda could sense it all—the dark aura emanating from the intruders, the unmistakable presence of killers whose deadly skills were matched only by the countless souls that clung to them like a curse. She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling, as another gunshot landed perilously close to her foot.

"I wouldn't advise anything rash, Bone Queen," came a sneering voice from the shadows.

"Seriously? I have a name, asshat!" Melinda retorted sharply, drawing a small chuckle from Maggie behind her. 

"'Tobby, long time no see,'" the voice then said, now clearly directed at Tod. 

"Oh, my least favorite hunter—I told you to screw off, didn't I?" Tod barked back. 

"Here we are again, but this time I will be hunting you," the voice declared as the sound of a gun reloading punctuated the tense silence.

"Wait!" Melinda cried out, halting everyone in their tracks. "I get that you want to kill Tod—or Tobby, whatever his name is—I want to kill him too—but can we at least know your name?" 

"I don't think you'll need that," the voice replied coldly before a sharp blast struck Melinda's stomach, flinging her to the ground with a harsh clanging sound. "Mel!" Maggie cried out in panic, desperately searching for her friend in the dark.

"Where were we?" the disembodied voice asked, reloading the gun as it aimed at Maggie, who started toward Melinda. "Wait—" Melinda groaned from the floor as the spent bullet shell clattered nearby. "Ouch…" she muttered in pain.

Amid the chaos, a mocking voice broke through, "I've heard of your fantastic healing abilities. What do they call it again? Till my heart stops? Right?"

"NO," Melinda snapped, closing her eyes. "It is Cordis Infinitum, dumbass—Maggie, lights!" Immediately, she felt the room ignite with a brilliant, searing light as a surge of heat rose around her, blinding everyone in the room. 

Melinda had firsthand experience of what an enraged light magic user was capable of, and she was desperate not to endure it again. Her heart pounded in her chest as she slowly opened her eyes, only to lock gazes with a hunter whose deep green eyes burned with intensity. The imposing figure before her exuded both authority and danger, and every fiber of her being tensed in anticipation. His gaze, steady and unyielding, made it clear that he was not to be trifled with. 

The hunter's attire was a perfect blend of modern practicality and quiet menace. He stood tall in a long, sleek black coat that cascaded down to his knees, its clean, sharp lines accentuating his commanding stature. The coat radiated mystery, as if he had stepped straight out of a world where elegance and lethal precision coexisted effortlessly. Beneath it, a soft grey hoodie peeked out, its drawstrings pulled tight to offer a relaxed yet deliberate contrast to the formal lines of his outerwear. His grey sweatpants, tailored for both comfort and agility, added a distinctly urban touch to his ensemble, while a simple black cap crowned his head and a sleek crossbody bag rested casually against his chest. And, as if to underscore his readiness for battle, a shotgun lay aimed at Melinda with unnerving ease.

Yet, what captivated Melinda most was his face. A deep, jagged claw mark stretched from his left temple, slashing across his cheek and halting just short of his jawline. The old wound had long since healed, leaving behind a raised, silvery scar that contrasted starkly with his tanned skin—a permanent reminder of battles past.

Before she could react further, a shot blasted near her head. Melinda instinctively rolled away, her survival instincts kicking in as her unique "death probability" ability whispered grim predictions—if she were hit, even her infinite heartbeats wouldn't save her. Her mind raced, calculating risks in fractions of a second, as the realization struck her: one misstep could be fatal.

Her eyes darted around the chaotic scene, searching for Maggie. She spotted Maggie behind Tod, who was valiantly shielding her by using his body to deflect the incoming bullets. Despite the danger, Melinda knew her priority was to deal with the relentless green-eyed hunter first before helping her friends.

Another shot rang out, and as Melinda dodged, an enormous hog suddenly appeared in her path, intercepting the next bullet. The hunter fired again, but this time his focus was broken when he felt his foot being pulled. Glancing down, he saw a skeletal hand grasping his leg and another reaching for his other foot. He stumbled and leapt back in alarm as two charging hogs barreled toward him. He managed to shoot one in time, but the other crashed onto him, pinning him to the ground.

"Stay down!" Melinda shouted urgently as she turned to Tod, her voice barely audible over the chaos. She whistled loudly, drawing the attention of the other hunters. "I can't create a Mundus Fictus of my own here, but I can sure raise an army!" she declared defiantly.

"Thank you Tod for the toys. Magic Law II—Pompa Mortis"

A tense silence fell over the scene as Melinda's words echoed. Moments later, the atmosphere shifted—every sound died away into a heavy stillness. Then the ground began to tremble. It wasn't violently catastrophic at first, merely a noticeable shaking, but soon the tremors intensified. The mansion rocked as if caught in an earthquake. Out of the fissures in the floor, a hand clad in black armor burst forth, followed by another hand wielding a sword. Soon, more emerged, rising like a macabre army from beneath the earth.

In the midst of this surreal display, a bullet tore through Melinda's head, leaving a gruesome, bloody hole where her left eye should have been. Yet, in an almost miraculous moment, the wound knit itself together, healing rapidly before everyone's eyes. As she struggled to rise, she turned to see that the hunter had already disposed of the hog and now stood, weapon in hand—two Desert Eagle pistols aimed squarely at her.

"Don't ruin my show, creep!" Melinda shouted as more undead began to emerge from a swirling black hole that had suddenly opened in the ground. Their appearance was chilling—a horde clad in dark, battered armor and armed with a variety of crude weapons. Swords, axes, and even one fighter wielded a grotesquely large thigh bone, all charging relentlessly toward the group of hunters. In the ensuing chaos, Tod and Maggie found themselves free to maneuver amid the fray, standing resolutely beside Melinda as they prepared for what was coming.

"Now it's just you left!" Melinda cried out, her voice cutting through the tumult. In a flash, she produced her wand seemingly from thin air and pointed it directly at the approaching Hunter. "Sanguinem Vinculum!" she intoned. Instantly, ethereal blood blades materialized, each a flat, razor-sharp weapon measuring nearly sixteen inches in length, their dual edges glinting ominously in the dim light.

"He's mine!" Tod roared as he stepped forward. As he advanced, an unsettling distortion rippled through his form. His muscles bulged unnaturally, and his face contorted into a savage, beastly snarl. In a matter of seconds, he towered over everyone at nearly eight feet tall—a horrifying fusion of man and beast. Thick, coarse hair erupted across his skin as a suit of jagged, gleaming iron armor materialized, wrapping around his chest, arms, and thighs. The armor melded with his flesh as if it were part of him, a living testament to his unholy transformation. A bullet rang out, striking his chest with a sharp metallic ping, yet it was deflected effortlessly by the armor. His roar, primal and bone-shaking, filled the night as his eyes flickered into a vivid blood-red hue, burning with an insatiable hunger. The iron-clad werewolf was now unstoppable, unbound by any human limitation.

"Gerald, I'm going to rip your face off!" Tod bellowed, his voice echoing like thunder as he lunged toward his target.

"Iron-werewolf?! I thought they were extinct!" Melinda exclaimed, turning to Maggie with wide-eyed disbelief. "We have to run—things are about to get really messy," she added urgently, seizing Maggie's hand and pulling her away.

"What about Tod?" Maggie asked hesitantly, glancing back over her shoulder.

Melinda's eyes narrowed as she watched Tod launch a ferocious assault on Gerald. With his long, razor-sharp claws, he relentlessly pushed the hunter back. "As you can see, he can handle himself perfectly," Melinda remarked, her voice tense with urgency. "Now, let's look for a way to break out of this Mundus Fictus first—I have a feeling something is terribly wrong."

For reasons she could not fully explain, everything seemed to be unfolding too smoothly. They still knew nothing of the true rules governing this world, nor did they understand who was orchestrating the chaos behind the Mundus Fictus. A sword whistled dangerously close to Melinda's face, forcing her to duck instinctively. Realizing that making a break for the door would be futile in the midst of the melee, she sprinted upstairs into an empty room and slammed the door shut behind her.

Inside the room, Maggie's trembling hand found Melinda's, and together they peered through a small crack that was on the wall. Inside, the gruesome scene unfolded: familiar faces among the fallen—cleaners and cooks from the mansion—now lay in piles. In a desperate, almost ritualistic gesture, Melinda waved her fingers. To Maggie astonishment, a swirling black hole materialized beneath the piles, gradually drawing the dead bodies into its inky depths until they were completely absorbed.

"We need a plan—" Melinda began to shout, but her words were abruptly cut off as Tod's massive form crashed through the wall, slamming into the room with a force that sent dust and debris swirling in the air. He hit the floor hard, only to rise almost immediately, his presence a towering reminder of the chaos outside.

"I think something is wrong," Tod howled, his voice morphing into an eerie, guttural sound that resonated through the room.

"What do you mean?" Melinda demanded, peering through a gaping hole in the wall. To her horror, she saw three wolves standing ominously behind Gerald. Unlike Tod, whose red eyes burned fiercely and whose form loomed like a dark colossus, these wolves were smaller, with chilling blue eyes. Their claws and fangs looked just as deadly, perfectly designed to tear through flesh.

Melinda's senses tingled with foreboding. She knew that wolves and witches rarely worked in harmony—wolves had an acute sense of smell that made them exceptional hunters of magical beings, effectively acting as overgrown, feral dogs. With a low, threatening snarl, she glared first at Tod, then fixed her gaze on the increasing pack, her mind racing with dread and determination.

The hunters were in the midst of a gruesome transformation into werewolves—creatures far more savage and hulking than even Tod's metallic-clad form. Their features twisted into beastly snarls and eyes burned with a wild hunger. "We have to get out of here!" Melinda shouted urgently to Tod, her voice cracking with fear and determination.

Tod's keen senses picked up another presence down the hall, and he called out, "I can smell another threat coming!" Without hesitation, he scooped both girls into his massive arms and bolted for cover. Behind them, the pack of wolves and Gerald gave chase, their snarls and growls echoing through the corridor. One particularly vicious wolf stepped into their path but was abruptly intercepted by a massive hog, which sunk its teeth into the creature's neck. The two animals clashed in a furious, primal battle that momentarily cleared the way for Tod and the girls to slip by.

Just as two more werewolves took the place of those felled, Maggie's voice rang out with authority: "Magic Law I—Carcer Luminis!" Instantly, several brilliant rods of light descended from above, piercing through the advancing wolves and holding them immobile. In that split second, Tod vaulted over the immobilized creatures near the end of the hall. However, fate was unkind—an errant shot blasted his shoulder between the metal plates of his armor. He cried out in agony as the impact sent both girls tumbling forward, and for a moment, he felt completely incapacitated.

The pair landed on top of a hog—a smaller one that seemed to signal that Melinda's magical reserves were rapidly depleting. "Tod!!" Maggie cried out in alarm as Melinda mustered the strength to lift herself and stagger toward the door facing them. With trembling her hand, she pushed the door open into a void of total darkness. For a brief moment, she glanced back at Maggie, who was sprinting desperately toward Tod, whose pained figure was barely visible in the gloom. In her heart, Melinda knew she had to close the Mundus Fictus as soon as possible, or else risk further calamity.

"Protect her!" she commanded, directing her plea at the nearest hog at her feet before stepping into the enveloping darkness. Outside, Gerald was repositioning himself; he leveled his gun and prepared another shot at Tod, who was now crawling away. "Silver bullets—they work every time," Gerald called out with grim satisfaction.

"Stay away from him!" Maggie shouted as she created a blast of light at Gerald who dodged but turned back in time to see one of the hunters thrown back by the sudden blast of light. In a desperate bid, she positioned her small body between Gerald and Tod, attempting to block Gerald's advance. "Your efforts are futile, girl. Stand back, and I might let you live," Gerald sneered, his tone dripping with irritation.

"Who told you that you could kill me?" Maggie retorted fiercely, and in an instant, she summoned two light swords from seemingly thin air. The weapons were plain white yet glowed with an almost otherworldly brilliance. Each blade measured nearly eighteen inches in length, with a six-inch hilt and a sleek cross guard—tools of beauty and precision in her skilled hands.

"Fancy, but you are still outnumbered by both men and wolves," Gerald countered, his voice laced with arrogance as the remaining wolves encircled him. Maggie's eyes flickered toward the darkness into which Melinda had vanished moments earlier; she knew that every precious second bought her time to close the Mundus Fictus. With steely resolve, Maggie removed her shoes—complaining that close-range combat always ruined her dress—and prepared to fight.

"What are you going to do? Charge head-on?" Gerald mocked, stretching his hands out as if to challenge her further. "Don't you know witches are never good at close combat?"

"Who said anything about me being a witch?" Maggie shot back, her voice ringing clear as she charged forward with unexpected ferocity. She slashed at Gerald, who managed to dodge her initial attack and countered with a swift, aimed strike. However, Maggie reacted quickly—she kicked his hand, causing him to flail and inadvertently shoot at the ceiling. Not missing a beat, she dodged a vicious slash from one of the wolves, leaping gracefully over the creature and, with a precise swing of her blade, severing it at the waist in a single, fluid motion.

"Surround her!" Gerald bellowed as he reloaded his weapon, but Maggie was already a whirlwind of determination. She darted in front of him, executing a slicing motion aimed at his head. Gerald narrowly evaded her deadly strike, retaliating by firing at her side. Quick on her feet, Maggie rolled across the floor and reappeared behind him, her blade arcing upward to slice across his back just as he tumbled forward.

For a moment, she paused, her gaze shifting between her gleaming blades and Gerald's pained expression. "Hmm, that's odd," she murmured with a mischievous grin spreading across her face, "my blades is supposed to cut through anything." Fueled by adrenaline and defiance, she rallied her strength and shouted, "Let's keep it going, boys!" as she charged forward once more into the fray.

Melinda couldn't see a thing in the impenetrable darkness—she couldn't even make out her own hands. Instead, she relied on the palpable aura that filled the space. It was unmistakable: the presence of another dark magic-type user, the kind that thrived on instilling fear and inflicting unnecessary pain.

"I know you are here!" Melinda shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. "I will find you and rip your heart out!" Before she could finish her threat, something struck her from behind, spinning her around. A searing pain jolted through her body. "Ouch! That hurts!" she cried as she staggered to her feet, trying desperately to regain her balance.

Desperation took over, and she attempted to concentrate, but fate was not on her side. Another blow came—a sharp, savage attack that felt like claws tearing through her skin, deep enough to leave a mark but not sufficient to kill her... not yet. Amidst the chaos, she heard the sound of claws swinging. For a brief, disorienting moment, nothing hit her. "Wait—was that just a blind swing?" she wondered, only for another strike to land mercilessly.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed, struggling to heal even as her magic drained slowly. Her magical reserves were waning, and she dreaded the all-too-familiar sensation of magic deficiency that left her vulnerable. With a determined cry, she decided enough was enough. Raising her hand, she unleashed a flurry of blood blades that burst into existence around her. The blades, forged from her own life force, gleamed like crimson daggers in the darkness.

In the ensuing tumult, she heard something crash to the ground—a heavy thud followed by a scuffle. Moving quickly through the pitch-black corridor, Melinda reached out and grabbed for any object that could offer salvation. Suddenly, the room exploded in light. Before her eyes, she found herself holding a young girl by the throat—a child no older than twelve—while, in the corner, the lifeless body of a werewolf, about the same size as Tod, lay crumpled.

"What are the rules?" Melinda demanded urgently, addressing the struggling child. 

"I'd rather die," the girl whimpered in reply.

"I could help with that," Melinda said, summoning a dagger-sized blood blade that floated midair "If I kill you, the Mundus Fictus will close. It's a win-win for me, either way." Her tone was as cold as the steel of her conjured weapon. "The rules are simple: as long as the green-eyed hunters' hearts beat, we remain trapped here." 

"Good girl," Melinda murmured softly before her tone hardened. "Now, can you let me go?" 

"Sure," she said leaving the girl to stand on her feet, Melinda's hand struck the child's neck, sending her into unconsciousness. With a heavy heart, Melinda laid the limp body gently on the ground and turned her attention to a hulking wolf that had crept into view. She swept her hand through the air, and a swirling black hole engulfed the creature's body, drawing it away as she made a dash for the door.

Outside, chaos reigned. Maggie's frantic shouts barely cut through the bedlam as she witnessed the carnage—werewolves, split in half and strewn about, their blood mingling with the detritus of battle. Maggie stood with her back pressed against a wall, her body spattered with blood. The stench of death filled the air, and she looked every bit the war goddess, her light blade pointed steadfastly at Gerald, whose hands had been viciously severed. Tod lay unconscious nearby.

"Where is the antidote?" Maggie demanded, her voice trembling with both fear and determination.

"I will never tell you that if you kill me," Gerald snarled from his precarious perch.

"Maggie, to cure a silver bullet wound, you just have to take out the bullet," Melinda interjected coolly.

"Oh, thanks for nothing then," Maggie spat, before decisively decapitating Gerald. His headless body crumpled to the floor with a final, silent thud.

Turning to Melinda with a wry, wry smile, Maggie asked, "So, what did you want to tell me?"

"Never mind," Melinda replied hurriedly, dashing toward Tod. "We need to get him out of here." 

"And the Mundus Fictus?!" Maggie cried out.

"Already handled that," Melinda assured her, her voice strained but resolute. 

"Your magic? Maggie asked. 

I stole just enough juice to summon some hogs to help us lift his body. Let's go!"

**************************************

Later, in the oppressive darkness of the aftermath, Tod howled awake. He groaned in pain as he instinctively reached for his injured shoulder, now tightly wrapped in bandages. His body shuddered; hair began to fall from his skin, and the unmistakable sound of bones shifting echoed in the silence. Slowly, painfully, he transformed back into his human form—naked, vulnerable, but alive.

"Now that's something," Melinda called out softly from the darkness.

"Thanks?!" Tod asked, staring down at his shoulder in disbelief. The wound had healed almost miraculously, and the bandages, oversized as they were, had become like a second skin over his once formidable form.

"Tod!" Maggie called out, her voice trembling with a mixture of relief and lingering fear as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his in a passionate, desperate kiss. "I thought I was going to lose you," she whispered between tears, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I'm sorry, princess," Tod replied softly, holding her tightly in return. His embrace was warm and reassuring, a small island of safety in the midst of the chaos that surrounded them.

Just then, Melinda abruptly rose to her feet, her expression hardening with determination. "uhh, I wish Gerald had killed me," she declared with a bitter edge, before softening her tone slightly. "Put some clothes on. We have a lot to talk about," she added briskly, then turned and walked away, leaving the two lovers huddled by the campfire and retreating into the shadows of the night.

After a few long moments of silence, Maggie's brow furrowed as she sought clarity. "So, let me get this straight," she began hesitantly, her voice low and cautious. "You and that Gerald guy were partners?"

"Yeah, sort of," Tod replied, his eyes following the retreating figure of Melinda as if trying to catch every last detail of her departure.

Maggie's curiosity deepened, and she pressed on. "And you guys work for some contractor whose name you don't even know?" she asked again, her tone a mix of incredulity and exasperation.

"Um, yeah," Tod admitted, his voice trailing off uncertainly as he struggled to find the right words.

"And you've been traveling to the future together to kill babies?!" Maggie exclaimed, her disbelief rising to a fever pitch as the absurdity of it all struck her like a jolt.

"No! I mean, if you put it that way…" Tod stammered quickly, attempting to clarify. "They're Enforcers—it's all for a greater cause."

"Aren't Enforcers supposed to, like, enforce universal laws and mitigate wars between species?" Melinda interjected from a short distance away, her tone laced with sarcasm as she added, "That's what they're meant to do, isn't it?"

"Yes, I realized that afterward," Tod said quietly, his voice filled with regret. "I wanted to back out. I just came back from my last mission when I met you guys on the train. The thing is, those wolves were made from my DNA. They're not perfect, but they're enough to form an army."

"An army?" Maggie repeated, her eyes widening with shock and apprehension.

"Yes," Tod confirmed gravely. "My contractor is building an army."

"For what?" Maggie asked, a chill running down her spine as the weight of his words sank in.

"War," Tod replied simply, his voice echoing the grim reality of their situation.

"So, what can we do about it?" Maggie asked, her gaze flitting between Tod and Melinda, searching for some semblance of hope.

"Us? This isn't really our fight, Maggie," Melinda said firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

"But, Mel—" Maggie began to protest, but Melinda cut her off decisively.

"No buts," Melinda stated. "We're going to find your dad and get out of the city."

"As much as I don't want to go back," Tod added, "Maggie's right. We have to stop him."

"Who?" Maggie demanded, her voice rising in alarm. "Your contractor? The one you said has an army of werewolves made from your DNA?"

"Technically, yes," Tod replied slowly. "He said something about a boy he had to kill. I think he called him Sawyer."

"Sawyer?" Both girls exclaimed in unison, the name sparking immediate recognition and dread.

"What? You know him?" Tod asked, his tone laced with surprise.

"Well, Melinda tried to kill him," Maggie explained, her voice trembling slightly as memories surfaced. "That's where she lost her arm."

"What? Why?" Tod demanded, turning to Melinda with a mixture of anger and confusion.

"I don't know," Melinda replied, her voice filled with uncertainty. "I had this vision—something about the world being destroyed if I didn't kill him." She paused, searching for the right words. "And when you told me about him, and I saw his face… I don't know why, but I just really wanted to kill him. That's not like me."

"So, you—a dark magic-type user specializing in death and necromancy—hate killing people?" Tod asked, his tone incredulous and laced with irony.

"What? I didn't choose my magic type!" Melinda retorted defensively. "Besides, we all have our secrets," she added, turning to Maggie with a knowing look in her eyes.

"Another time," Maggie replied dismissively, waving her hand as if to brush off the uncomfortable topic. "But we have to find this Sawyer guy."

"The last feed I got said he was supposed to head into the Red Desert to close some gate," Tod said, his voice somber.

"The Red Desert? Isn't that, like, a wasteland?" Melinda asked, skepticism heavy in her tone.

"Yeah," Tod confirmed, nodding slowly. "If he's there, he might already be dead."

"There's no harm in trying," Maggie said firmly, sitting up straighter as she steeled herself for what was to come. "I really want to hate you both sometimes, but I just can't."

"Red Desert it is, then," Melinda declared. "We should get some sleep. We're going to need it." With that, she stood up and walked away from the campfire, leaving the other two to contemplate the gravity of their situation. She needed time to clear her head and think—something still didn't feel right, as if they were all following someone's grand plan without knowing whose it was.

"Are you okay?" Maggie asked softly, reaching out to touch Tod's shoulder gently.

"I'm fine," he replied, though his voice betrayed the underlying exhaustion. "I should be asking you that. Melinda told me you took out Gerald and the wolves. How did you do that?"

Maggie patted his chest affectionately and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. "Another time," she said playfully, her eyes twinkling with mischief despite the tension. "For now, we should get some sleep." With that, she laid down on the cool grass, resting her head against his chest as they both listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. In that quiet, intimate moment, her thoughts drifted briefly to her mother and then to her father, and a single, haunting question echoed in her mind: Will she ever see them again?. 

**********

Notes: So the previous chapters has been short because I wrote them a while back—last year, and I decided to re pick the book and continue with longer chapters ranging from 4500-6000 words per chapter.