6. The vault. Anna.

Kaiden's concern and constant closeness were becoming suffocating. His heavy, mournful glances and insinuating voice were starting to grate on me. I was glad he had returned and stayed by my side, but in the time we'd spent apart, I'd learned to live alone. Now, it was exhausting to be around anyone without respite. So I was genuinely relieved when he mentioned meeting up with his friend. And just as genuinely annoyed when he decided to tag along with me to the bank. I agreed, not wanting to hurt his feelings, and Kaiden pressed a tender kiss to my temple, as if sensing my irritation. I forced a smile and, out of habit, brushed the unruly black strands away from his eyes, tucking them behind his ear. 

On the way to the bank, we barely spoke, but the entire time, he held my hand tightly, as if afraid I might run away—and, truth be told, the thought had crossed my mind more than once. I also secretly hoped the bank would tell us that only family members were allowed inside. 

My hopes were dashed. As it turned out, I could have brought an entire circus troupe or a brass band with me, had I so desired. We were greeted politely, offered drinks, and after we declined, they checked my documents one last time before escorting us to the vault. 

Beyond the massive metal doors, secured with an intricate sigil, we entered a waiting room dominated by an imposing wooden table at its center, flanked by plush sofas. Opposite the entrance stood another wooden door. The walls were adorned with seascapes and portraits of stern-faced individuals, likely connected to the bank in some way or perhaps they had simply been chosen for their remarkable profiles, given how prominently their noses stood out. 

The cheerful woman accompanying us brought me a small box containing the key to my safe deposit box. She opened the wooden door for us, revealing rows of lockboxes lining the walls. With a gesture, she invited us inside and pointed to the correct row where my box was located. Before leaving us, she turned to me with the same polite smile and said quietly: 

"Miss Demare, someone from the Inquisition inquired about the contents of your vault. According to bank policy, we cannot grant access to unauthorized individuals, but you should be aware that the Inquisitors did make such a request."

"Who was it?" 

"I can't say," she replied, shaking her head with that same frozen smile. 

I nodded in understanding. 

"Thank you." 

When she left, I shot Kaiden a pointed look. 

"The Inquisitors tried to get into my vault. Very interesting... What exactly were they hoping to find?" 

"Maybe we'll find out if we finally open it," Kaiden said, and I thought I detected a hint of irritation in his voice. 

I slid the key into the lock, and a simple sealing circle glowed faintly around it. Removing my power stone, I pressed it to the center of the circle, channeling energy into the mechanism. A soft click sounded, and the small square door eased open slightly. Impatient, I pulled it wider only to find another box inside. 

I lifted it out and carried it to the table. The smooth walls of the chest revealed no hint of a keyhole or seam. 

"I'll bet there's another box inside this one," I muttered. "And inside that one, a smaller box." 

The lid wouldn't open so easily. I turned the box over in my hands, searching for a lock. Kaiden ran his fingers along the top, then examined the sides. Not a single groove or seam to be found. I pulled the box back toward me and gave it a light shake. Something solid thudded dully inside. 

As I tilted the box at different angles, hoping to spot even a hint of a keyhole, Kaiden seemed to notice something. 

"Let me see." 

He took the box from my hands and angled it so the light hit the lid at a slant. In that position, we could just make out faint seams cutting through the pattern like a chaotic spiderweb, as if the spider weaving it had suddenly forgotten what it was doing, leaving only a thread here, a thread there, clinging haphazardly to the branches. 

Kaiden tugged at one corner of the lid. It didn't budge. He tried wiggling the opposite side—same result. While he amused himself testing possible methods of interaction, I returned to the safe deposit box and reached inside, feeling around for any additional clues. But my fingers found only empty space. With a sigh, I sank onto the couch, turning over in my mind how one might crack open this peculiar creation. 

Kaiden frowned, giving me that disapproving look usually reserved for misbehaving children, which amused me, considering I was older than him. 

"What if there's something fragile inside?" 

"Then we take it home and figure it out there. I'd rather not linger here too long. Who knows who might decide to drop by?" 

Kaiden hesitated only a moment before scooping up the mysterious box and heading for the exit. The outer vault door was locked. I pressed a round button to the right of the doorway, and my touch activated the glowing unlocking circle. The lock clicked, releasing a series of bolts within the doorframe. 

The cheerful bank employee greeted us again, asking if everything was all right or if we needed any assistance. We hastily said our goodbyes and left the bank. 

On the way home, a thrilling anticipation bubbled up inside me. This stubborn little fortress seemed like yet another puzzle from my father. Ever since I was little, he had challenged me with riddles and brainteasers to sharpen my mind. As I grew older, the puzzles became more complex, evolving into full-fledged quests—each with a sweet reward waiting at the end. 

No sooner had we locked the front door than I tossed my coat onto the console table, snatched the box from Kaiden's hands, and marched into the living room to settle on the couch. Kaiden, meanwhile, carefully hung our coats and kindled a fire in the fireplace, channeling energy into the fire circle. I edged closer to the warmth. 

"Any ideas?" Kaiden took the armchair opposite me. 

"Shhh, don't distract me," I waved him off without looking up from examining the box's side panel. 

He sighed and stood. 

"Want some tea?" 

"Yes, go on." 

He disappeared into the kitchen, clearly annoyed. I gave the box another careful shake: a dull thud and the rustle of paper inside. Hmm... What kinds of locks do we know? The first thought was a locking circle, but that would be too simple. Just in case, I tried an unlocking sigil. No effect. 

If there's no external lock, the mechanism must be internal, with parts interlocking. That meant finding the piece that needed to be released first. Again, I turned the box endlessly, searching for the right angle. Futile. 

Kaiden returned with two steaming cups. 

"Any progress?" 

I shook my head, taking a sip from my cup. The tea was too strong for my taste and scalding hot. I swallowed, running my tongue over the burnt roof of my mouth. 

"Maybe it's simpler than we think?" 

"How much simpler?" I set the tea aside, irritated at Kaiden's implication that I always overcomplicated things. I touched the lid with my fingers again, testing it with a pulse of energy. 

Without hesitation, Kaiden grabbed my hand and pricked one finger with his knife. 

"Hey!" My indignation flared into outright fury. "What the hell are you doing?!" 

Ignoring me, he dragged my bleeding finger to the box and smeared a drop of blood across its surface. 

"What...? Oh!" 

The moment my blood touched the wood, a dull glow traced the hidden seams. With a soft click, the puzzle pieces announced their surrender. 

"It worked," I exhaled. "Why didn't I think of that?" 

Kaiden reached for the box, but I smacked his hand away again. 

"I go first!" 

My heart pounded wildly as I carefully slid one corner, it obediently shifted aside. I moved on to the next piece, but the moment I adjusted it, both elements snapped back into place. A frustrated sigh escaped me. 

"Damn it!" 

The next few hours were spent blindly testing possible combinations until Kaiden noticed the subtle sounds the box made. When one piece slid into the correct position, a faint creak of tension echoed from another part—a hidden spring signaling the right path. If we followed its hints, the mechanism would unlock in sequence. 

"Now isn't that ironic!" I exclaimed. "Professor Demare's favorite student solved his puzzle better than his own daughter." 

"Wasn't that hard," he drawled, deliberately casual, shrugging with a smug, fox-like grin, the kind worn after catching a fat partridge. 

"Oh, shut up!" 

Finally, I pulled the box closer. We exchanged glances, feeling like true treasure hunters, and peered inside. The contents were disappointingly sparse. 

"Is this all?" I muttered, fishing out a rolled-up sheet of paper and a hollow wooden cylinder strung with ring, each engraved with power sigils. 

My disappointment soured further when I unrolled the paper to find it completely blank. 

"Why stash an empty sheet in a vault?" I turned it at different angles, searching for even the faintest trace of a message. "There has to be something hidden here." 

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to recall all the methods for invisible messages my father and I had experimented with. Milk writing wouldn't last long. Chemical vanishing ink had a tendency to reappear over time. A masking sigil was a possibility, but that was child's play, as any stone user's first instinct would be to try a revealing sigil to dispel it. Still, I sketched the revealing circle over the paper just in case. Unsurprisingly, it uncovered nothing. 

"So, Detective Kaiden Williams," I sneered, "what brilliant theories do you have now?" I hoped he was just as stumped as I was. 

But Kaiden only smirked, plucking the paper from my hands. 

"I've got a few ideas. But first, you have to admit you need my help." 

"What kind of ultimatum is that?" I arched an eyebrow. 

"Miss 'I Can Do Everything,' it's time to confess you're not all-powerful." 

I narrowed my eyes, ready to snatch the paper back at any moment, but at the last second, I relented. I had to admit, delegating wasn't exactly my strong suit. 

"Fine. Help me, please." 

"See? That didn't hurt," he said, lightly pinching my cheek. 

I swatted his hand away with a scowl, and Kaiden got to work. He held the paper up to the light, then ran his fingertips along its edges. I watched as his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, his long fingers deftly turning and bending the sheet until faint creases appeared on its surface. 

In that moment, I remembered what had drawn me to him when we first met—the quiet, methodical way he approached everything, that weary, almost melancholy look in his eyes that seemed too old for his age. "Kaiden has an old soul," my father used to say. He had patience, the kind that saw things through to the end unlike me, who'd start a dozen projects and finish none. In those little ways, we balanced each other out. 

Lost in thought, I barely noticed as he picked up the knife. With the blade's tip, he lifted a corner of the paper and it separated. Slowly, carefully, he guided the knife downward, peeling the layers apart. 

"Wow! I had no idea you could do that." 

With careful, surgically precise movements, he separated the sheet into two layers. Having no clue what he was trying to achieve, I simply watched, mesmerized by the dance of his hands. Kaiden set aside the thinner layer and gently smoothed the thicker one on the table. 

"We're still looking at a blank page, detective," I teased. "Noticeably thinner, but still blank." 

"Haha," Kaiden shot me a sidelong glance. "Give me your hand." 

"What? Why?" 

"Come on," he beckoned with two fingers. 

I reluctantly held out my palm. 

"You could've used your own blood," I grumbled. "Just for a change."

"I'm pretty sure these little guys are trained to recognize only yours." 

Kaiden pricked my finger with the knife, pressed lightly, and let a few ruby droplets fall onto the paper. 

"What 'little guys'?" 

"Watch." 

I stared at the blank sheet. For the first few seconds, nothing happened. Then, from where my blood had landed, thin rivulets of greenish-brown began to spread like ink dissolving in water, swirling into spirals and eddies. The tendrils stretched further across the white surface, branching out and forming letters that arranged themselves into words, all in my father's distinct handwriting. 

"What is this?" 

"Modified fungi," Kaiden chuckled. 

"Fungi?!" I shot him a disbelieving look. "Seriously?" 

"Yep." He was clearly enjoying my astonishment. "It was one of our experiments." 

"Invisible ink made of mushrooms?" 

"No." His smug grin didn't waver. "We were trying to use microscopic fungi, like mold, as markers to identify certain genetic traits in blood samples from bearers. During the process, we discovered they change color when exposed to specific genes. You can train them, so to speak, to recognize a particular person's blood. Plus, they survive for ages without nutrients, bind permanently to surfaces, and wake up fast from dormancy if you feed them blood." 

"I never would've guessed dad was tinkering with fungi," I muttered. "How did you even figure it out?" 

"Noticed the paper wasn't uniform, more like an envelope." 

"That could've meant anything!" 

"Let's just say this isn't the first secret message your father left for me," Kaiden replied, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "It's a remarkably secure method. If anyone tried using chemical developers or heat, the message would be destroyed beyond recovery." 

As he spoke, I caught the wistful edge in his voice and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. In all this time, I hadn't once considered how deeply my father's death must have affected him. They'd worked together for years. Dad had mentored Kaiden since his first day at the Academy, essentially becoming the father figure he'd lost as a child. It struck me then: Dad had likely intended for Kaiden to be here when I needed to uncover this message. Alone, I might never have pieced together this intricate puzzle. Every step had unraveled precisely because of him. 

Flushing slightly, I turned away with a shake of my head and focused on the fungal script now blooming across the page. My hands started to tremble as I kept reading.

"My dear little star,

If you're reading this, it means you've solved the puzzle, just like when you were little and I hid sweets in the trickiest boxes. Remember how you'd fume, then laugh when you finally found them? This is no different: the most precious things always lie behind the thorniest path. 

What you hold now is the heart of the wind—that very cylinder we once launched from the hills to hear its song. Its voice will lead you to the house without windows, the one where we took shelter from summer rains, and where you swore you could hear the walls breathing. You'll know it at once. It's where leaves whisper to stones. 

About your gift: it's like that first fire you kindled in your palms—beautiful but burning. Don't let it devour the moon (you'll understand when the time comes). Trust only those who remember how your hair smelled after a storm. 

I'm proud of you. Even if I can't say it aloud. I'm always with you, even when my hands aren't there to brush that stubborn fringe from your eyes. 

Your old fool."

"Papa..." I whispered, the letters blurring before my eyes. I set the paper down carefully, afraid my tears might smudge the ink. A crushing weight settled in my chest, that all-consuming grief that comes with the unbearable finality of loss. I would never find another secret message from him, never hear his chiding "Well, what did you expect?", never see those sharp dark-blue eyes behind his glasses again. 

I buried my face in my hands, the pain too much to hold inside. I hadn't cried at the funeral. Hadn't cried after. Wouldn't allow myself to be weak. But those words about my fringe—that stubborn strand of hair he always scolded me for cutting, then fussing over when it fell into my eyes—undid me. The dam broke, and the flood tore through me. 

Damn that fringe.

Kaiden wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close without a word. No empty comforts, no "It'll be okay." Just silence, and the solid warmth of him, letting me fall apart.