The silence in Tasha's house had become too loud.
It had been three days since her name was placed in the jar,three days since that faint gust of wind had hissed over her friends like a quiet warning. And now, the weight of something unspoken pressed against her walls, seeping into her dreams.
She hadn't told them everything.
The phone call had barely scratched the surface.
In truth, Tasha had begun seeing things,visions not just of shadows, but of lives she couldn't explain. A woman who looked like her, standing barefoot in a circle of stones, chanting beneath a blood moon. Another, holding a jar carved with strange symbols, whispering into its mouth like it could hear her.
The most vivid vision came the night before:
She was drowning. Not in water,but in whispers. Hundreds of voices, all speaking in tongues, calling her name like it belonged to them.
Tasha woke up screaming, a deep ache in her chest, her hand clutching the air,searching for something… or someone.
She didn't tell her friends.
Not yet.
She needed answers first.
Meanwhile, in the city, "Sasha stood outside a high-end café", the crisp air brushing her cheek as she waited for someone she never expected to meet like this.
Liona.
Kian's wife.
The woman who had always existed on the periphery of Sasha's sin,the shadow in the photograph frame, the name on his caller ID, the ring on his finger. And now… she had texted Sasha herself.
A "woman-to-woman" meeting.
Sasha didn't flinch as Liana approached, all sharp heels and tailored elegance. She was stunning, poised,and cold.
They sat down in silence. Ordered coffee.
"Let's not waste time," Liana said, stirring her drink without looking up. "I know."
Sasha arched a brow. "Know what, exactly?"
"That you've been sleeping with my husband."
Sasha's stomach twisted, but she didn't blink. "If you're here to shame me—"
Liana smirked. "No, sweetheart. I'm here to offer a… proposition."
Now that caught Sasha off guard.
"I'm not the kind of woman who begs. I believe in taking what serves me, and letting the rest rot. Kian and I..." she paused, carefully choosing her words, "...haven't been a traditional couple for a long time."
Sasha folded her arms. "What are you suggesting?"
"An arrangement. You keep him busy with your emotions, your late-night kisses, your tragic eyes. And I… I'll keep the rest. The name. The estate. The legacy."
Sasha's jaw clenched.
"You think I'm a distraction?"
"I think you're temporary."
A long silence settled between them.
Then Sasha leaned forward, her voice calm but firm. "You don't know me. And you sure as hell don't get to decide my worth."
Liana's smile faltered, just for a second.
"I'm not here to be your pawn," Sasha added. "Or your pity project. If Kian is unhappy, that's on you, not me."
Liana stood, smoothing her coat. "You'll regret turning down my offer."
Sasha stood too, her voice low. "Maybe. But I won't regret not becoming you."
They parted without a goodbye.
Back at Naya's apartment, the others had gathered again.
Sienna had brought printouts of ancient seals, claiming they resembled the carvings on the jar. Alani scrolled through online forums where people spoke of "spirit vessels" passed through bloodlines. And Naya—she just sat, watching the jar as if it might blink.
Tasha had promised to join by video call. But as the clock ticked past midnight… nothing.
Then, Naya's phone buzzed.
A photo.
From Tasha.
A wall in her house. The same words Sasha had seen.
"Blood remembers. So does the jar."
Below it, a second message.
Tasha: "I saw her again. She was crying in the mirror. But… it wasn't me."
Miles away, Liana returned home. She poured herself a glass of wine and walked into her private study.
The hooded man was already waiting.
"She won't play along," she said.
The man said nothing. Only handed her a candle, thick and black.
She lit it.
The flame danced unnaturally high, twisting purple.
"She's waking up," the man said quietly. "They all are."
And in the shadows behind him…
the jar pulsed softly.
Even from afar.