[Scene: Brevia — Next Evening, Ashen's House]
The sun was setting slow and golden.
Shadows stretched long over the streets.
Brevia was quiet.
But somewhere, someone stood in front of a door.
Knock. Knock.
Katrina stood outside the familiar house—back straight. Patient. Calm. Almost.
The door creaked open.
Gavric answered, blinking like he'd just been woken from a nap.
Katrina didn't wait.
"Where's Ashen?"
Her eyes had already drifted past his shoulder, scanning the hallway for movement. Footsteps. Breathing. Anything.
Gavric scratched his head.
"Uh… yeah. He's kind of sick. Been out since last night. Didn't even go to school."
He stepped aside.
"You can head upstairs. His mom's with him. And the doctor."
Katrina gave a small nod.
Then turned.
Gavric thought she was leaving.
He reached out with a hand.
"Wait—hey, you can come in. Why are you leaving?"
She didn't answer.
Just tilted her head.
"I'm going to his room."
And without another word—
She jumped.
One clean vault—up to the first-floor window.
Gavric's jaw dropped as she landed neatly against the glass panel, slid it open, and stepped through like a breeze.
[Scene: Ashen's Room — Moments Later]
The room smelled like soaked towels and herbal vapor.
Ashen was asleep, lips parted, his breathing audible.
Face flushed. Chest rising and falling beneath a light sheet.
A cold towel rested across his forehead. His red hair clung to his face. Every breath looked… heavy.
The doctor jolted as Katrina landed inside.
Before he could open his mouth—
Lira turned from the bedside and blinked.
"Katrina?!"
Katrina gave a light wave. "Hi, Auntie."
The doctor blinked again. "Uh… how did you…?"
"Window," Katrina said plainly.
She walked past him, past the awkwardness, and stood by Ashen's side.
His face twitched. But he didn't wake.
Her eyes narrowed, almost softening.
"I hope Eron comes back quickly…"
She turned to the doctor.
"What is it?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses and straightened his coat like her jump hadn't just happened.
"Seasonal infection, most likely. Nothing serious. Bit of fever, sore throat, and fatigue."
He chuckled lightly. "Probably overexerted himself playing too much. Kids these days…"
Lira didn't laugh.
She glanced at Katrina.
That word—"fatigue"—didn't sit right.
Katrina gave a sheepish smile and scratched the back of her head.
"Yeah… haha. You know Ashen. Always pushing too hard."
But her eyes didn't match her tone.
She looked back down at him, lips pressed tight.
And stayed there.
Watching him breathe.
[Scene: Outside– Sunset]
Katrina stood alone.
Elbows resting against the railing, eyes toward the horizon.
The sky was a pale orange, clouds stretched thin like whispers.
She didn't speak.
She didn't move.
She just stood there.
Thinking of fever dreams.
[Scene: Ashen's House – Dinner Table, Later That Night]
The house was quiet again.
Not the kind of silence that followed an argument—
The soft kind. The warm, soup-smelling kind.
A small lamp flickered overhead as Ashen sat slouched at the dinner table, wrapped in a thick blanket. His face was still pale, but the fever had calmed. A little.
Across from him, Lira spooned out warm soup from a clay bowl.
Spoon by spoon, she fed it to him gently.
Lira (softly):
"Ashen, child… you sure you're okay with all this training? Katrina doesn't make you work too hard, right?"
Another spoonful. A wipe to his chin with a napkin.
"You know you can stop. You're already a strong boy… at least for Mama."
Ashen managed a small smile—weak, but real.
Ashen (voice low, raspy):
"No, Mom. It's not her. She's amazing. It's just… just an infection."
He didn't sound convincing.
But Lira smiled anyway.
---
[Internal – Ashen]
> "I wanted to tell her."
> "Tell Katrina about the dream."
> "But my body felt too heavy."
> "Even now… I'm not sure how to explain it."
> "Seven holy crystals."
He stared into the bowl. His reflection rippled—pale, tired eyes under messy red hair.
> "What are they?"
> "Why did those voices keep repeating it like a warning?"
> "Or a prophecy…"
---
He looked up.
He wanted to call out to her.
Ask.
Say something.
But instead…
He took another spoonful of soup.
And kept the storm in his chest to himself.
---
[To Be Continued]