The beeping of the heart monitor stirred him.
Ren blinked, his head heavy against the back of the chair. He'd dozed—just for a moment. His legs were stiff from sitting too long, tension pooled in his joints. The dim blue light from the overhead monitor painted soft shadows across the room.
He turned his head.
Anya was still in the bed—tucked beneath layers of sheets, her small frame curled on her side, facing away from him.
But her hands were trembling.
Tiny, rapid motions. Barely there. As if even in sleep, something inside her couldn't stop shaking.
Ren sat up slowly,
"Anya?"
No answer.
The trembling got worse. Her shoulders began to rise and fall—too fast, too shallow. And her fingers, those delicate hands that once held paintbrushes with perfect control, were now clenched into the sheets.
He rose from the chair.
Kneeling beside the bed, Ren reached out and touched her.
His hand came to rest over hers, gentle and steady. Her skin was cold to the touch, trembling faintly beneath his fingers.
She was shaking so hard now it looked like her body was trying to curl into itself, like it wanted to disappear.
So he whispered, "Anya. It's me."
He could tell—she was still afraid. And he wished he could help her. Wished he could reach into her fear, feel it with her, and shoulder the weight of it. Even just a little.
Then—something shifted.
He felt it.
Something dark around Anya.
He froze. Since he couldn't see anything with his eyes, he activated his Siren's perception.
And then he saw it.
Four black nodes, growing out of her heart—each leaking slow tendrils of black smoke. It seeped into the space around her like something alive.
He could feel it too.
Fear.
"Is that… her fear?" he whispered.
He tried to reach forward with his senses, but the moment he drew near, something pushed back. It wasn't violent—more like a soft, unyielding wall. A quiet refusal.
"I can see her fears?" he murmured. "Wait… that's right. The Siren's Perception lets me see emotions too."
He tilted his head slightly, watching the smoke curl from the blackened nodes. They pulsed faintly—like slow, withering heartbeats.
"I command the laws of dread," he thought. "If I can see her fears… then I should be able to remove them, right?"
But as he reached again with his senses, the resistance was still there. Gentle, yet absolute.
"It's like I'm being shut out. Why? What's stopping me?"
He sat still, breathing slowly.
Then something clicked.
"Wait…"
His eyes widened slightly.
Without another word, he shot to his feet and rushed out of the VIP room. Moments later, he returned—carrying a large bowl filled to the brim with water. He set it gently beside her on the table, the surface trembling with faint ripples.
"It said… as long as there's water, right?" he muttered. "Then… how about now?"
He knelt beside Anya again, closed his eyes, and released a pulse of Vira.
Almost instantly, something shifted.
His consciousness slipped forward—and in the next breath, he saw himself inside Anya's mind.
***
It was dark—all around him, nothing but shadow.
Except for a single door.
It stood in the center of the void: large, black, and faintly aglow, just enough to outline its shape against the endless dark.
'Huh?
Where… is this?'
He turned slowly, but there was nothing else. No walls. No sky. Just him—and the door.
So he started walking.
With each step, the silence began to break.
He began to hear whispers around him—broken, garbled. Too quiet to understand, yet layered and chaotic, like dozens of voices speaking over each other through water and static.
Some laughed. Others wept. A few just screamed into the dark.
His heart began to race as the voices grew louder—but then, just as quickly, it slowed. In a single beat, it returned to its natural calm.
'Oh great,' he thought dryly. 'Affliction's kicking in. Perfect place for it.'
He kept walking. Step after step, until at last, he reached the door.
It towered in front of him—smooth, seamless, with no handle.
He hesitated for a moment.
Then placed both hands against it and pushed.
The moment it gave way, a sudden force yanked him forward.
Darkness bent, twisted—and he found himself somewhere else.
A chamber.
The air was cold, metallic, and silent. Rows of glass cells stretched out in both directions, each marked with a red number. Most of the cells were empty. Some were cracked. But all of them were stained with blood—on the walls, the floors, even the tables.
'What is this place?'
He kept walking, eyes sweeping the chamber—until he stopped in front of a cell marked with a single number etched in red above the glass: 17.
Inside, a small figure sat huddled in the corner, back pressed against the wall, trembling.
His breath caught.
"Anya?" he whispered. Then louder, "Anya… I'm here."
But she didn't move.
Didn't look at him.
It was as if she couldn't hear his voice—couldn't see him at all.
'Can't she see me?'
He waved a hand, then knocked gently against the glass.
But Anya didn't move. Didn't lift her head.
She just sat there, curled into herself—silent, trembling.
Then, the voices came again—muffled, broken.
Words trapped in static and silence. Dozens of them. Maybe more.
They bled from the walls, the cells, the cracks in the floor—seeping into the air like smoke.
Ren couldn't make out what they were saying.
But the more they spoke, the harder Anya trembled.
Her shoulders curled tighter. Her hands pressed over her ears. A soft whimper escaped her lips.
Each broken whisper made her smaller.
Ren's brow knotted, lips parted slightly as if caught between a breath and a cry. He immediately pressed his palm to the glass.
'What do I do?'
His thoughts raced—grasping for anything, anything that could reach her.
Then he felt it—deep and low, radiating from within.
The shapes of her fear.
She was scared of voicelessness—afraid of being misunderstood, unheard, and trapped in silence.
She feared abandonment. Being forgotten.
And most of all, he could feel it—she was terrified of being locked in a cage.
Ren sat on the cold floor in front of her. One hand rested on the glass, fingers spread, as if reaching through it might somehow bridge the void.
Even though she couldn't see him—even though her mind had locked him out—he spoke anyway.
"It's okay, sister. I hear you.
You don't need to speak. I'll listen through everything else.
You thought no one heard you. But I did. Even now… even if you went silent forever…
He placed his other palm flat against the cell.
"I'd still know where you are."
He drew a breath.
"You weren't weak. They forced you into stillness.
But don't worry. You're not trapped beneath the glass anymore."
He softened.
"You're on the surface now."
He paused—eyes softening—when Anya stopped shaking. Slowly, she lifted her head, as if the fog around her had begun to thin, and she could finally see him through the glass.
Ren smiled faintly.
"It's okay," he whispered. "I'll help you."
"For I command the laws of dread. And so…"
His voice deepened, settling into something ancient, sovereign.
"I will take this burden from you.
Any fear not born of me… shall cease to exist in my presence."
The moment the words left his lips—
—the hospital room returned.
The light. The hum of the machines. The faint scent of antiseptic.
He blinked.
Then he looked around. The bowl of water on the table rippled—but it was no longer clear. The surface had turned dark, cloudy, and foul, thick with a stench that curled into the air.
"Did it work?" he muttered, eyes narrowing toward Anya's chest.
Then he saw it.
Her breathing had settled—slow, featherlight, and calm, as if the storm inside her had finally passed.
The tension in her limbs had vanished.
The fear was gone.
A small, stunned laugh escaped him.
"…It worked," he breathed. "By the Veil—it actually worked."
But then he swayed. The room tilted slightly. His vision blurred.
'Woah…'
He had used over sixty percent of his Vira, and he could feel it.
He dropped into the nearby chair, catching his breath.
"I need to increase my vessel," he said, more to himself than anyone.
"…And I need to do it fast."
***
Anya dreamt.
She found herself by the ocean, sitting quietly at its edge. The waves were soft, barely moving—so calm, it felt like the world had finally gone still.
When she turned to her side, she saw her brother sitting beside her.
He smiled.
She leaned against him, and together, they watched the sea.
Here, everything was quiet. And for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.