CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN

Finally, they reached the mansion.

The iron gates creaked open on their own, as if the house itself had sensed their return. The headlights washed over the front steps of the estate—cold stone framed by climbing vines and dark windows that watched like eyes.

Tim parked without a word. The engine clicked as it cooled.

Cody stepped out of the car, gently lifting Alice in his arms, her silver hair still glowing softly in the dark. He turned to the backseat and carefully gathered Alva, holding her close to his chest.

Inside the mansion, the grand hall was silent, the chandeliers dimmed to a low, golden hum. Shadows stretched long across the marble floors.

Cody carried them up the staircase, his steps steady, the air heavy with ancient memory. He entered one of the bedrooms—warm, quiet, wrapped in velvet curtains—and gently placed Alva on the bed.

Then he turned and laid Alice beside her. Still asleep. Still glowing.

Her silver hair fanned out across the pillow like threads of moonlight.

Cody stared for a moment. Then slowly, he sat on the edge of the bed.

He reached for Alva's hand, lifting it gently in his own.

"You're safe now," he whispered.

But even as he held her hand, a strange chill touched the back of his neck.

Because something had come home with them.

And the Tree... was still watching.

Cody stared at his wife and child.

****

Three days later, and they still hadn't woken up.

Fear—an emotion Cody had never known how to carry—had sunk deep into his bones. The kind of fear that didn't roar, but whispered. The kind that made even the strongest man question everything he thought he understood.

He sat on the edge of the bed, unmoving, watching their still forms. Alva's hand rested beside her, her fingers curled softly as if mid-dream. Alice lay close to her mother, her silver hair splayed across the pillow like flowing moonlight.

Neither stirred.

Their breathing was slow and steady. Peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Cody reached out and gently held Alva's hand. It was warm. Alive. But distant.

"Come back to me," he whispered. His voice cracked. "Both of you… please."

The mansion was heavy with silence. Shadows moved in the corners of the grand halls, not from ghosts or monsters—but from memory.

He had battled ancient creatures. Survived death. He had looked into the eyes of gods and demons and didn't flinch.

But this?

This helpless waiting was tearing him apart.

And deep down, Cody knew: wherever they were—it wasn't sleep.

It was something far older.

And he had no map to bring them home.

---

Meanwhile, in one of the guest rooms down the hall, Sam stirred.

Her eyelashes fluttered, her brows furrowing as her mind returned from a foggy place. She inhaled sharply, her eyes opening to the dim light pouring in through the curtains.

She blinked.

Tim was sitting beside her.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Uhmm..." she stammered, struggling to find the right words.

Tim turned his head slowly to face her.

Their eyes met.

His were tired. Haunted. But steady.

And hers—hers held guilt, painted boldly across them, as if even sleep couldn't wash it away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Tim didn't move. He studied her face for a long moment, as if searching for something beneath the surface.

His voice was calm, but cold.

"Why did you do it?"

Sam swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought—"

"You thought I was too far gone," Tim interrupted.

She looked down. "You were changing. You scared me."

"I scared myself," he said, more to himself than to her.

Silence hung between them like a wall.

Then Tim stood slowly.

"I'm not the same anymore," he said quietly.

Sam looked up at him, tears beginning to form.

"I know."

He paused at the door, hand on the knob.

"But I remember now. Everything."

Sam's breath hitched.

"And I won't forget who stood beside me… and who didn't."

Then he left, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Moments later, Sam rushed out of the room, barefoot, her robe trailing behind her as she chased him down the dim hallway.

"Tim, wait!" she cried.

He didn't stop.

She caught up to him near the staircase, grabbing the torn edge of his shirt. Her hands trembled.

"Please," she whispered, clinging to him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Tim turned, his face twisted with restraint. "Sam, don't," he said, his voice hoarse. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't care," she sobbed. "You won't. I know you won't."

"Sam, let go," he said, trying to free himself, but she held tighter.

"I'm not letting you walk away again. I was wrong. I should've believed in you!"

Tim's jaw clenched. His breathing quickened.

Her tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt.

"Please, Tim…" she whimpered, pressing her forehead against his chest. "You're still you."

"No," he said, voice cracking. "I'm not."

He looked down at her, his eyes shifting—no longer human. One glowed red. The other, a chilling blue. His monstrous self was peeking through.

She looked into his eyes—and in them, he saw himself.

A reflection he hated.

His expression broke.

"No!" he growled, suddenly pushing her away—not hard, but enough to create distance.

Sam stumbled back a few steps but didn't fall.

Tim backed against the wall. He stared at his hands like they were claws.

Then, with a roar, he slammed his forehead against the wall.

CRACK!

"Tim, no!" Sam screamed.

Blood ran down his forehead, dripping onto the polished floor.

But he didn't stop.

Again, he slammed his head—harder this time.

CRACK! THUD!

"Stop! Please stop!" Sam cried, running to him, trying to pull him away.

But Tim flung her off with a broken cry, then collapsed to his knees.

His voice came in a growl.

"I can't do this! I'm a monster!"

Sam scrambled beside him, trying to steady his shaking shoulders.

"You're not!" she said through her sobs. "You're not! Please, stop hurting yourself!"

Tim's hands were covered in his own blood now, fingers curled as he gripped his hair.

His body trembled with rage and sorrow.

Sam wrapped her arms around him, refusing to let go.

"You're still in there," she whispered. "You're still the man I love."

Tim didn't answer.

But he didn't hit the wall again.

Instead, he buried his face into her shoulder and screamed—a sound that wasn't human. A sound full of agony, of guilt, of love, and of a monster trying to hold onto his soul.

And all Sam could do was hold him… as the storm inside him raged on.