The boutique had been closed for nearly an hour by the time Elena got home. She had spent the entire afternoon pretending to work, answering customers with a smile and nodding along to Camille’s remarks, while her mind remained stuck on the same few words. He’s already found you. She had heard them in her head so often that they had eventually lost their meaning, like a sentence repeated for too long, but whenever she stopped thinking about something else, they returned with an almost painful clarity.
Camille had tried to make her promise not to go home alone. Elena had refused, claiming she didn’t want to exaggerate the situation. In reality, she especially didn’t want to admit out loud that she was afraid of finding her apartment empty. No matter how many times she told herself that the creature from the night before probably didn’t exist, part of her still expected to find it behind a door or lurking in the shadow of a hallway.
When she reached the front of her building, she stopped for a few seconds.
She looked up at the windows of her apartment.
The light was off.
Everything seemed normal.
And yet she remained there, motionless, with the unpleasant sensation of being watched. She scanned the neighboring windows, the cars parked along the sidewalk, and the entrance to a small passage across the street, without noticing anything unusual.
Eventually, she went inside.
Since the elevator was still out of order, she climbed the three flights of stairs on foot. Every step reminded her of the previous night, but she forced herself not to think about it. When she reached her door, she checked the lock before entering.
Everything was exactly as she had left it.
The living room was tidy, the television was off, the curtains were drawn, and the window was closed. There was no trace of the creature.
Elena set her bag on a chair and stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds.
She needed answers.
She couldn’t keep waiting for them to come to her.
She had to look for them.
Her gaze settled on the hallway leading to her bedroom.
She knew exactly where she had to start.
She went to her closet and took out an old cardboard box she had kept since childhood. She had moved it from one apartment to another without ever really opening it. Some things were too painful to look at, and her memories of her mother were among them.
She placed the box on her bed.
For a few seconds, she couldn’t bring herself to lift the lid.
She had been six years old the last time she saw her mother.
She still remembered that day in fragments. Rain against the windows, a suitcase beside the door, her mother’s hand wrapped around hers, the scent of lavender—and above all, that strange look her mother had given her before leaving.
She had wanted to follow her.
Her mother had told her to stay.
Then she had disappeared.
No one had ever explained why.
Elena finally opened the box.
Photographs appeared first.
She took them out one by one.
Her mother was young in most of them. She rarely smiled, but when she did, her entire face changed. Elena lingered over a photograph taken in a garden. She must have been five. Her mother was crouched behind her, her arms around Elena’s waist.
A date was written on the back.
October 12, 2010.
Elena turned the photograph over.
Nothing else.
She picked up a second one.
Then a third.
Some showed places she didn’t recognize. An old house in the middle of a forest. An abandoned church. A stone building with all its windows bricked up.
In several photos, her mother was wearing the same pendant as Elena.
She frowned.
She had never noticed that detail.
She kept searching.
At the bottom of the box, she found a yellowed envelope.
Her name was written on it.
Elena.
She stood perfectly still.
The handwriting was instantly familiar.
It was her mother’s.
Her fingers trembled as she opened the envelope.
There was a single sheet of paper inside.
Elena unfolded it.
The handwriting was uneven, as if her mother had written in a hurry.
If you’re reading this letter, it means I failed to keep my promise.
Elena felt her throat tighten.
She continued.
I lied to you throughout your childhood because the truth was too dangerous. I wanted you to grow up like a normal child, far from those who are looking for us.
Elena stopped.
Her eyes swept across the room.
Suddenly, she had the feeling that someone could be watching her through the window.
She continued.
You must understand one thing: what you are must never be discovered.
Her heart began to beat faster.
She turned the page.
There were only a few more lines.
They’re afraid of your blood. They know what it can awaken. As long as you remain hidden, you’ll be safe.
Then came one final sentence.
A sentence that sent a chill through her.
And if the King ever comes looking for you, never give him Elena.
Elena read the sentence again.
She felt her fingers tighten around the paper.
The King.
The word made no sense. She started the letter over from the beginning, hoping she had misunderstood, but the words were still there. She set the paper on the bed and stood up. She took a few steps around the bedroom before returning to the box. There had to be something else. Her fingers brushed against a metal object—a small antique key blackened by time. Elena turned it over between her fingers. No lock came to mind.
She searched again.
This time, she found several folded sheets, notes, dates, and names. Some had been crossed out; others were accompanied by symbols she didn’t understand.
Then she recognized one.
The same symbol engraved on her pendant. She held the sheet closer to the lamp. Beneath the symbol, a sentence had been written.
“The ancient families must remain separate. If the blood mixes, the door will open.”
Elena felt a knot form in her stomach.
She continued reading.
But the pages became increasingly difficult to understand. They spoke of clans, blood, creatures, and a kingdom she had never heard of. Then one name appeared several times.
Kael.
Elena stared at the word, grabbed her phone, and immediately searched the name. No relevant results. Thousands of Kaels existed in the world, but none matched what she was looking for.
She set her phone down. A strange certainty had taken root inside her.
Her mother knew.
She knew this man.
She knew this world.
And she had spent Elena’s entire life keeping her from discovering it.
Elena returned to the box and took out one last photograph.
She froze. Her mother stood in the center of the image, and beside her stood a man.
Elena had never seen him before.
He was tall, dressed in black, and his face was difficult to make out because of the photograph’s poor quality, but something in his eyes immediately caught her attention.
Elena moved the photograph closer to the lamp.
Two dark, almost red eyes.
She quickly turned the photo over.
On the back, her mother had written a few words.
“He must never know where she is.”
Elena felt her heart stop for a second. She looked at the photograph.
Then the letter.
Then the pendant lying on the bed.