The house was small but cozy. Dust covered everything—the wooden table, the shelves lined with old books, the faded rug on the floor. Mira ran her fingers along the wall, feeling for a light switch.
"This was really your home?" Draven asked, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the low doorframe.
"I think so," Mira said. "It feels... familiar."
She found a lamp and switched it on. Soft light filled the room, showing pictures on the mantel—a happy couple holding twin babies with copper hair. Her parents. Her and Zephyr.
"They look happy," Draven said softly.
Mira picked up the picture, her throat tight with emotion. "I don't remember them."
"Maybe you will," Draven said. "Rael said the answers are here."
They visited the house together. There were two small beds, a bathroom, and a kitchen. Everything was covered in dust but otherwise intact, as if the family had simply stepped out and never returned.