I woke in silence.
Not the kind of silence that came from emptiness, but the kind that weighed on you—like a thick cloak laid over your chest.
The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. Painted in dark marble streaked with silver veins, it shimmered under the glow of crystal lights that floated lazily in the air. Each one pulsed like a heartbeat, slow and steady, not mine.
I blinked. Once. Twice.
I was on a bed—too soft for comfort. The sheets were black velvet, cool against my skin. My body ached everywhere. Dull, angry pain throbbed through my ribs, arms, and legs.
I was alive.
Why?
My hand twitched.
No blades. No cloak. Even my clothes had changed—loose robes of silver and white, finely stitched, definitely not mine. I smelled of herbs and clean linen. I hated it.
My instincts flared. Where was I?
I tried to sit up—and nearly collapsed. My arms shook under the weight of my own body.
"You're awake earlier than expected," came a voice.
Soft. Measured. Familiar.
My head turned—slowly. She stood by the arched window, gazing out at a mist-covered courtyard.
Alina.
Her long, light purple hair flowed down her back, straight and untied. She wore white today—fitted at the shoulders, very elegant. Her sword was gone, but she didn't need it to feel dangerous.
She turned to me with eyes like polished amethyst. The same eyes that had nearly killed me. The same eyes that had let me live.
"You were out for two days," she said, walking toward me.
Her steps were quiet, practiced. Each one spoke of control—like she didn't walk on floors but expectations.
"You moved too early during recovery," she continued, her tone still light. "If you pass out again, the healers will think I'm torturing you."
I frowned. "…Am I a prisoner?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
"No. But I do own this bed. And the room. And everything in it."
I looked around more carefully. The space was large. Decorated in ancient designs—silver chain motifs carved into the pillars, crimson curtains fluttering gently despite no breeze.
"Where am I?" I asked.
Her answer came softly:
"In Voss territory."
---
The name rang like cold metal against my spine.
Voss. One of the founding lineages since the Hex appeared. A noble family steeped in blood, silence, and untouchable privilege. I'd heard the rumors.
No one defied the Voss family.
And no one walked away from their favor unchanged.
"Why?" I managed. "Why bring me here?"
"And how is this even the Voss territory?"
She sat on the edge of the bed, just out of reach.
Her posture was regal, but her voice dropped in pitch—quiet, intimate.
"Because I wanted to. And as long as I dwell in this place, it will always be Voss territory," she said.
"…That's not an answer."
She studied me for a moment. Not in judgment—this time, in curiosity.
"You interest me," she said finally. "In the Gate, you shouldn't have survived. Not against me. Not in that state. But you did. You kept standing. Kept moving. And then you fought so well, I could feel your sincerity."
I stayed silent. There were no words left for that moment.
She reached for a nearby tray I hadn't noticed before. A silver teapot. Two cups. Her hands moved with trained grace as she poured dark tea, steam curling in elegant spirals.
She offered me one.
I hesitated.
"It's not poisoned," she said with a smirk.
I took it.
The warmth helped. A little.
She sipped from her own cup, then finally said:
"Night… do you know what the Voss family really is?"
I shook my head.
"We are one of the Seven Great Pillars," she said. "But we are unlike the others. The Voss line doesn't seek glory. We protect legacy. We don't conquer—we erase threats before they rise. Quietly. Permanently."
She turned to face me fully now.
"I was raised to kill for my family," she said, calm. "I don't hesitate. Not even for people I like."
I stared at her.
She smiled.
"I said that so you'll understand what I say next."
She set her cup down.
Then, finally—she leaned forward.
Eyes locked on mine.
Voice soft, but powerful.
"Join the Voss family, Night."
---
The words didn't shock me.
It was the way she said them. Not as an offer. Not even a command.
It was… a promise.
"You want me to be one of you?" I asked.
"No. That would take years, blood, and the right bloodline," she said plainly. "But I want you close. With us. Under our shield. In our name."
"Why?"
"Because I've seen what you can do. And what you're not yet capable of. You haven't even awakened fully… and already, your blade made me hesitate."
She stood now, back straight.
"The world doesn't care about stories. It doesn't care about sorrow, or grace, or how long you bleed for your ideals. But my family does. We respect strength that's born in silence. In suffering. In solitude."
She took a step closer.
"We take strays. We raise them into monsters."
I said nothing.
She leaned down slightly, her voice lowering again.
"And I like you, Night. You may not trust me yet, but… I trust what I saw in that Gate."
A pause.
"You didn't fight to win. You fought to live."
She offered a faint smile.
"…And then, you danced."
---
I didn't reply immediately.
My hands trembled slightly around the cup. My body still screamed. My mind spun with too many echoes.
Join the Voss?
It wasn't just an alliance.
It was an entanglement. With people who killed quietly. Who ruled with elegance and knives.
But I couldn't lie to myself.
I wanted more.
More battles like that. More chances to grow. More answers to the void inside me.
And something about her—
No. That was dangerous thinking.
But still...
Still.
I looked up at her.
"...I'll think about it."
Alina's expression softened. Just a little.
"That's all I ask."
She turned away, walking back to the window as quiet as before.
The sunlight outside looked pale. Filtered through mist and glass.
I sat alone in silence again.
But this time…
It didn't feel empty.
I could feel her energy change. My eyes widened as I understood what she said earlier.
"What are you planning?"
She smiled.
"So you noticed. I thought you wouldn't."
She turned to face me again. "In three days, I will destroy this place. That is the only way to get back to our timeline. The preparations are ready. All that remains is you. If I wipe out all the people here, the illusion will break."
The word illusion hit me like a knife. My hands trembled as I said,
"Do you think all this is just an illusion?"
"Yes, I do. And I think it's best if you do too. In the end, all this is just an illusion. Don't forget the truth."