The soft whisper of wind stirred the curtains in the quiet house in Scotland.
Maxandra stirred suddenly from her sleep, gasping for air, her hand instinctively clutching her chest. Her heart pounded like a war drum. Her breath hitched as her eyes stared blankly into the darkness—but she wasn't alone in it.
She had seen him.
Lamia.
Standing on the veranda.
He was... watching Julian and Jasmine play, his face soaked with tears, his fingers trembling as if he wanted to hold them—touch them—just once more. His silhouette was drenched in sorrow, almost transparent, as though he were drifting between the living and the dead.
"No," Maxandra whispered. "No... this can't be real..."
But her mother's heart knew.
It was real.
Her boy—her son—was dead.
Again.
After all the years she spent grieving, hoping, praying for his return... after they had him back, even if just for a while, this cruel fate had clawed him away again.
Tears blinded her vision as she stumbled out of bed. Her footsteps echoed like thunder down the hallway, shattering the silence of the early morning.
"Charles!" she cried, her voice cracking, "Charles!"
He met her in the hall, alarmed, brows furrowed, shirt half-buttoned.
"What is it? Maxine—what's wrong?"
She fell into him, sobbing so violently it broke him before she even said a word.
"I saw him... Lamia. I saw him. On the veranda. He was... saying goodbye..."
Charles's breath caught. His knees buckled slightly as he clutched her tighter, trying to steady himself.
"No... no, don't say that. Don't say that—" his voice shattered, trembling.
But something in her voice—something in her eyes—told him she wasn't wrong.
They stood in the hallway, holding each other like broken pillars holding up a crumbling world. And then—like fate mocking their grief—a sudden commotion rose from the sitting room.
The children.
Julian's laughter turned into a confused scream. Jasmine was calling for her mother.
Maxandra and Charles rushed toward the sound, hearts hammering, afraid, desperate.
And when they turned the corner...
...they stopped cold.
There, bathed in soft golden light, stood two ethereal figures—translucent but unmistakable.
Lamia.
And Catherine.
Hand in hand.
Ghosts.
Tears streamed down Lamia's face as he knelt in front of Julian and Jasmine, brushing a hand that passed right through their cheeks. The children looked around, confused but not afraid—as if somewhere deep in their soul, they recognized the love behind the touch, even if they could not feel it.
Catherine's soft, glowing form bent toward Jasmine, her voice a faint melody only a child's heart could truly hear.
"You'll be strong... for us, okay? Mommy and Daddy love you more than anything in this world."
Maxandra dropped to her knees, reaching forward.
"No... no, don't go, please!" she cried. "Lamia—please, don't leave me again. Please—come back... come back... we can fix this—"
Her hands passed through his light.
He turned to her.
Eyes—full of pain. Love. Regret.
"I'm sorry, Mum," Lamia said gently, his voice echoing like a breeze in a canyon. "I thought I could survive it. I thought I could fight the curse... but the school... it wasn't just cursed—it was a trap."
Charles stood frozen, his eyes rimmed red, his fists clenched.
Catherine looked at Maxandra, a soft smile on her lips, though her eyes betrayed the agony in her soul.
"Thank you... for everything. For taking care of them. Now it's your turn again... we can't stay."
Julian screamed as Lamia kissed his forehead and slowly faded.
"No, Daddy! Don't go—please don't go! I want you—"
But they were already fading.
Dissolving into particles of gold, like sunlight scattering in water.
And just like that—
Gone.
Vanished.
The living room was silent again.
Dead silent.
Except for the echo of two children crying for the parents they would never see again.
Charles stepped forward first. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. He scooped Julian into his arms and held him as tightly as a man could without crushing him. Maxandra wrapped Jasmine into her embrace, burying her tears in the little girl's hair.
A horrible weight fell on the house—a sense of finality that crushed the chest and broke the spine.
Maxandra looked to the sky through the windows.
And she knew.
They should never have joined the war.
Lamia should never have stepped into that cursed school.
It had destroyed him, it has destroyed their precious family.
And in the process "Softcore" by The Neighbourhood played softly on the radio in the background—unplanned, untouched—the lyrics sunk into the hollow walls like an omen.
"You're too mean, I don't like you... Fuck you, anyway... You make me wanna scream at the top of my lungs... It hurts, but I won't fight you... *You suck, anyway.....
"I'm thinking too much again
I get these thoughts in my head
I push them away, but they stay
'Cause I just wanna sleep dead"