6 months later...quiet before the ruin...

Scene 1 — Nathan's Room | Night | 6 Months Later

The room was dimly lit. The curtains were drawn, shutting out the moonlight, but it still managed to creep in—like it always did. The small desk lamp flickered softly, its light casting long, twitching shadows on the wall.

Nathan sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers trembling as they interlocked.

He hadn't slept.

Not properly. Not since that night—the night of the ritual. The night Emma collapsed. The night he betrayed her.

He stared at the floor, bloodshot eyes haunted.

And suddenly, the air grew heavy. Electric.

He didn't flinch.

He knew.

"I was wondering," came a voice—so familiar it made his stomach turn, "when you'd stop pretending to be human."

Nathan looked up slowly.

And there she stood.

Amelia.

In the middle of the room like she'd always been there.

Long black gown, hair flowing like ink in water, skin pale like moonlit bones. But it was her smirk that unsettled him the most—cruel, mocking, and full of venom.

"Oh, Nathan," she said with a click of her tongue. "Look at you. All pathetic and sad. Over a girl who barely knows you anymore."

He clenched his fists. "Don't talk about her."

"Why?" Amelia tilted her head. "You were so desperate to be useful. To belong. And now look where that's gotten you."

"I made a mistake," he said, voice low.

Amelia scoffed. "A mistake?" She laughed, walking toward him, heels echoing unnaturally. "You didn't just make a mistake, my dear. You handed me her pain on a silver platter. And now that she's healed, you want to play the hero?"

Nathan stood up.

"She trusted me," he said. "And I broke that. I know."

Amelia raised a brow. "Then why are you still here with me?"

A pause.

Nathan reached for his neck.

He yanked off the thin leather string holding the black stone. The same stone his grandmother gave him... or so he claimed. The same stone that had bound him to Amelia since that first summoning.

"I'm done," he said. "You don't own me anymore."

He threw the stone to the floor.

The ground rumbled faintly.

A black mist erupted from the stone like it had been holding something alive.

Amelia's smile faded.

"You'll regret this," she said, voice colder than ice.

Nathan stared into her eyes.

"I already do."

With a final gust of wind, she vanished.

But the air didn't feel lighter.

It felt worse.

Like something unspoken had been let loose.

---

Scene 2 — Liam's Room | Late Night | 6 Months Later

Elsewhere.

Liam sat by the large window in his room, his hair slightly longer now, a fine stubble on his face that gave away the months that had passed. A closed book rested on his lap—he hadn't been reading it. Just holding it. Like a habit.

The city lights blinked far in the distance. But his eyes weren't on them.

They were on a small photograph beside his lamp.

A candid photo.

Emma.

Laughing mid-sentence, sunlight in her hair, Peter's arm just in frame.

She looked... healed.

Happy.

And Liam felt it—a strange ache in his chest that wasn't quite pain, but something colder.

He hadn't seen her much lately. Not after she moved back into her house.

She needed space.

Peter had been there for her, and he… well, he faded back. Like the mature one. The "grown-up."

But even if he never said it out loud—she was still the first person who made him feel something real in a very long time.

He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

A knock on the door snapped him back.

It was one of the maids. "Sir, the morning report."

Liam nodded absently. "Leave it on the table."

She left.

And he sat there.

Just staring at the city.

"Are you okay, Emma?" he whispered to no one. "You feel far."

---

Birds chirped as the morning sun kissed the white curtains of Emma's room.

She sat by her dresser, brushing her hair.

She looked different.

Grown up from all angles.

Pretty

Mature

Stronger.

Calmer.

But inside—some days were harder than others.

Downstairs, her mom made coffee—no longer hovering like she did after the hospital. Emma had returned home about three months ago. It felt strange at first. The silence. The shadows. The echo of Amelia's presence.

But nothing had happened.

Not yet.

And maybe… maybe the worst was behind them.

Or maybe not.

---

Emma walked through the school gate, Peter by her side, their fingers brushing occasionally as they laughed about something Edward said in the group chat last night.

"Honestly," Emma giggled, "I don't know how Edward survives with that brain of his."

Peter smirked. "He makes chaos a personality."

They passed Chloe and Edward, who were already bickering lovingly near the bike racks.

"Get me a coffee and maybe I'll forgive you," Chloe teased, sticking her tongue out.

"I got you a cookie yesterday," Edward replied, mock offended.

"I burned 80 calories laughing at your cookie choice."

Emma smiled as they walked past, only to freeze when she spotted someone near the hallway entrance.

Nathan.

He hadn't been around much since her recovery.

And now, there he stood.

Tired eyes. Paler skin. The usual glint of excitement was dulled—muted.

Emma tilted her head as to just think what to say to him. "Hey… you okay?"

Nathan turned slowly. His voice was steady but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Didn't sleep much."

"Nightmares?" she asked, trying to sound casual but she wasn't that casual to him considering what he did to her.

He shrugged. "Something like that."

She frowned. "You don't have to hide things. We've been through… well, hell."

He met her eyes.

And smiled.

But only because he had to.

"Hey, we survived, didn't we?" he said. "That's what matters."

Emma smiled back, though something in her gut twisted.

She couldn't tell what was off.

But it was.

---

Scene 5 — The Unseen Threat

Far from them all… deep in the woods near the ruins of the old cabin, a dark figure crouched near the banyan tree.

It had been scorched once. During the ritual.

But now, black vines crawled around its base, pulsing.

Alive.

And something stirred beneath the roots.

Something that hadn't forgotten the pain Emma caused.

Something that was waiting.

And watching.