Who was she, really…
And why did her blood keep calling her back?
The question still echoed in her mind, repeating like a prayer that had lost its way.
The Vault was silent. Too silent for a soul that had learned to survive in the world's chaos.
No sound. No time. Only carved stones and the steady blue flames that never seemed to sleep.
La Reyna walked slowly, heavily.
Beneath her feet, the ancient floor remained warm—not the comforting kind of warmth, but as if a heartbeat not her own pulsed from the depths below.
The markings on the walls weren't mere decoration.
They were alive.
Whispering truths she wasn't ready to hear.
Witnesses to those who had entered—never to return.
She stopped.
Closed her eyes.
And in the hush of that darkness, something slipped into her — soft, quiet, but sharp.
She wasn't just in the Vault.
She was far from everything that once tethered her to being human.
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Inez.
The name bloomed in her chest like a single light in a fog.
That familiar face — always there no matter what hour she returned.
That voice — never raised, yet enough to make her feel safe.
Was Inez waiting in the kitchen?
Was the coffee still bitter like always?
Or had that home become just another quiet place, like this Vault — waiting for a child who may never return?
She didn't know.
What she did know — was that this longing ached.
And though she hated to admit it, the Vault's silence made her feel… fragile.
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La Reyna took a slow breath.
She missed a normal life.
Art galleries. Meetings. Clients.
Dark navy coats and folders filled with contracts — all were her attempt to escape history.
But history never runs.
It waits.
And now, it stood right in front of her.
This Vault wasn't just a door.
It was a mirror.
And inside that mirror… she was being forced to see who she truly was — without Inez, without the El'Raez name, without the armour of the past.
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A Few Days Ago — Istanbul
Safir Café, Eminönü
The café was called Safir — hidden between old buildings near the docks of Eminönü.
Its outer walls were wrapped in vines, and the worn wooden sign read in Turkish:
"Safir Kahvehanesi — sessizliği dinle."
"The Sapphire Coffeehouse — listen to the silence."
La Reyna sat at a far table beneath an old lemon tree in the central courtyard.
Her table was draped in a faded red Ottoman cloth. The wooden chair beneath her wobbled slightly, but she didn't mind. She wasn't there for comfort.
She wore a smoke-grey coat, a black scarf wrapped around her neck and chin. A few strands of her hair slipped free, curling gently in the sea breeze. On her right ring finger — a silver ring with a black stone. Old. Inherited. Never discarded.
A server approached — a young girl, modest, but with a sincere light in her smile. Her name was Meryem.
"Türk kahvesi, sade," Meryem said, placing the small cup on its copper plate. "If it's too bitter, drink this after."
La Reyna didn't reply. She gave a small nod. But something in Meryem's eyes made her feel… just a little open.
"Where are you from?"
Still silence.
"Are you looking for someone?"
The question wasn't sharp. It was soft — like something asked by a lazy sunset.
"I'm looking for silence," La Reyna answered quietly. "And maybe... someone who understands it."
Meryem didn't fully understand, but she nodded anyway.
"This city is loud," Meryem said. "But sometimes, inside… it's still quiet."
La Reyna gave a small smile. Real.
"If you ever find a silence that heals," she said, "hold on to it. Most of the time, the silence that comes only eats us from within."
Meryem lowered her gaze and walked away.
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La Reyna lifted the small cup.
Her hand didn't tremble, but something in her chest shifted.
She drank slowly.
Bitter. Thick.
This coffee wasn't sweet. But it was honest.
Her thoughts drifted to Milan.
Not the villa — but Inez's small kitchen.
Burnt toast. Old coffee. The smell of cinnamon on the hands of a woman who always waited.
Sometimes with anger. Sometimes with a smile. But always waiting.
Now… no one waited.
And that was the most painful part.
She looked out over the Bosphorus. A ship passed slowly — like other people's lives. Steady. Scheduled. Predictable.
And hers?
She never knew direction. Never knew who would stay, or who would vanish.
She was used to being left behind.
But she had never learned how to stop longing.
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Safir Café became the first place in a long while — where she sat not because she was tired, but because she truly wanted to.
Where she drank not because she was offered, but because she needed to feel calm — even for a moment.
Where her silence wasn't forced.
It was chosen.
And maybe, that was enough…
For today.
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The Vault — Now
La Reyna opened her eyes. Meryem was gone.
Only ancient carvings remained, glowing softly along the Vault walls.
Before her, a circle of stone had formed — five blue flames burning by themselves.
At the center, a pedestal — empty.
Around it, carvings of five hands.
Five bloodlines.
She stepped closer.
Her hand rose instinctively to touch the stone — but then, a deep voice echoed:
"Your blood is not enough."
She froze.
"You carry too much vengeance. Too little prayer."
Reyna clenched her fist. "What do you want from me?"
No answer.
Then — a light opened on the right wall. Not a portal to a place, but to memory.
Inside the light, she saw herself — small, no more than nine years old, embracing her mother in a snowstorm.
"Mother… why does the world hate us?"
Her mother's voice was gentle.
"Because we stand too close to the truth."
Irsalyn El'Raez — not just a woman, but the last guardian of a bloodline that never bowed to the Council. Her eyes were dark and calm, her hair long and pinned back simply, her arms the only place the world ever felt safe.
"When you grow up," Irsalyn's voice continued, "Don't become like those who chase light for power. Become the light itself."
Tears welled in Reyna's eyes.
But she didn't wipe them.
She let them fall.
Because they were proof — that she wasn't dead. Not yet.
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The Vault — Ritual Circle
La Reyna was pulled into the center.
The flames rose higher.
Behind her, the stone door slammed shut.
No way back.
Light rose from the pedestal — forming a short blade. Its edge shimmered like blood-tinged glass.
She understood.
A sacrifice was needed.
But not just any blood.
"Give what you love most."
La Reyna trembled.
Images of Inez came to mind.
Then Lucien.
Then — Meryem. A girl who barely existed in her life, yet made her feel... alive.
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She took the blade.
Gripped it tight.
Its edge was cold like death — but her will burned hotter than vengeance.
With a heavy breath, she pressed the blade to her palm.
Blood fell.
Not just pain — but an oath paid in lineage.
Drop by drop, she placed her hand against one of the five carvings.
The symbol beneath it glowed — a faint red, confirming her identity.
"First bearer."
Her hand bled, but she did not waver.
She didn't scream. She didn't fall.
She stood — as heir, as wound, as keeper.
The Vault lit up — not red, not blue, but a white so blinding it couldn't be stared at.
The once-dead walls began to breathe — like a chest waking from ancient sleep.
Symbols ignited one by one — calling the old Watchers to witness.
The five other carvings glowed — but none came to fill them.
She was alone.
She knew this ritual was meant for five.
But only she remained.
The others were gone. Or had turned away.
"Your blood is accepted. But still not enough," the voice whispered.
And yet — the Vault opened.
Not fully, but enough.
Enough for her to take a step inside.
A light formed, white and endless — like the eye of the sky.
And from deep within her — a voice rose. Not from the walls. Not from gods.
But from the deepest parts of herself:
"Reyna… if you cross this line, there is no turning back."
She didn't answer.
She simply gripped the blade tighter — and stepped forward.
Into the light that welcomed her…
A voice, old and calm, echoed:
"Fathya El'Raez... you are not the last.
But you may be the only one brave enough to ask —
who you truly are."
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