*Layla's POV
Actually, I don't really like humans. It's not mean that I hate them. I just don't like the way they look at me—like I'm a kind of rare, extinct creature.
Even though I was born and raised among them, I've never felt like one of them. It's as if there's this vast chasm separating us. And so, I started to think—maybe they're right. That I'm something that should never existed.
My existence is proof that we're getting closer to the end.
Mala only said one thing after the test ended—that I'd insulted all the data the researchers had gathered so far.
Maybe she was right. The power I showed might change the direction of their entire research. It was like I'd tell them that everything they thought they knew about Weavers was wrong. Maybe they've even changed their question now—from "How" to "What have we actually studying?"
Though, of course, that's not their fault. Some of what they know about Weavers is accurate, even if only the basics. But I'm pretty sure magic has never been part of their hypothesis.
And of course, Mala kept her promise. She even let me have my hands free—just for tonight. She took me to the cafeteria on the first floor—the only floor above ground, since the rest of the facility is underground. She told me to grab one tray with two servings of food and two glasses of water, then we rode the elevator down to the lowest level.
I wouldn't lie if Mala asked me why I looked nervous. This was the meeting I'd been waiting for. Everything I'd done up to this point—stirring up chaos in the human world and letting them catch me—was all based on a foolish gamble.
If he wasn't the one I was looking for, then I'd have no reason to stay. And maybe destroying this whole place as revenge wouldn't be such a bad idea.
But if he was the one—the person I'd seen in my vision, the reason I started all of this—then what would he say when he saw me? How would he react? Would he apologize, or smile and thank me?
I wouldn't lie if someone asked me why I looked so nervous. Even if my face didn't show emotion, I was sure anyone could tell the difference.
Mala walked beside me the whole way. We passed long, quiet corridors, several intersections, and security barriers that only opened with her ID card. The security on this floor was far stricter than any of the others. Even the route to my cell on the third floor wasn't this guarded. At the end of the hallway, the iron door finally came into view.
Mala tapped her card on the handle. A series of loud clicks echoed as the locks disengaged one by one. "Twenty minutes," Mala said. "I'll come get you after that."
"Twenty minutes to eat and talk?" I scoffed. "Seriously, have you never been on a date?"
Mala just raised her hand and stepped back, motioning for me to go in. When the last click faded, the door swung open completely. I took a deep breath and walked in, stopping right as the door closed behind me.
The room looked exactly like mine. Same wall color, same furniture placement, even the sterile, medicinal smell. The only difference was the boy sitting behind the desk with his head bowed.
My body tensed as a flood of emotions came rushing in, all fighting for dominance.
But… he didn't say anything. He didn't react to anything around him. He wasn't dead or asleep. He wasn't waiting for anyone. I only realized it after a moment of silence.
That boy didn't care about anything.
All the emotions vanished instantly, replaced by anger and disappointment. I walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat across from him. He didn't even react to the sound or smell of the food I brought.
I could see his face clearly now. His black hair was thicker and messier. His eyes had always been dark, but now there wasn't a single trace of light left in them. When I saw him at the door, I knew my gamble hadn't been for nothing. He was the one I'd seen in my vision.
But… he was no longer the San I knew six years ago.
He looked so fragile—not like the boy who once stood before me so confidently, telling me to leave after forcing me to promise I'd find him someday. My gamble had worked, but… what did it matter now?
"You look pathetic," I said—something that shouldn't be said in a first meeting.
San's eyes widened at my voice. Slowly, he lifted his head and our eyes met. His expression shifted as he saw me. He kept staring into my eyes, maybe searching for something in my blue irises. Then he looked at my snow-colored hair, probably starting to wonder who I was.
"You're… like me," he said.
Now it was my turn to look down. I didn't want him to see my expression. "Tell me," my voice wavered, "what are you thinking right now?"
"At first, I thought you were one of them."
"Because I'm wearing the same prison uniform?"
"No," he said. "I just felt… you were different."
Slowly, I looked back up at him, making sure my face was once again expressionless. "Listen, I'm going to ask you a few questions. Your answers will determine what I do next. Or, how I choose to treat you."
San nodded. I could tell he was a little nervous now. "What do you know about Weavers?" I asked.
"Not much. Mala just said Weavers are people who can control the elements."
"And you want to know why you can't control them." That wasn't a question. It was a statement he couldn't deny. Still, San nodded.
I continued, "Fire, Earth, Air, Lightning—and hybrid Weavers who can control two elements. Or even the sorcerers who use blood as a medium to manipulate Atma. Your power doesn't fall into any of those categories."
Another statement. San's face tightened with every word I said. "Of course," I added, "teleportation doesn't fit any of the elemental constructs used by Weavers."
His tense expression suddenly shifted to one of shock. I knew exactly what he thought without asking—how could I possibly know that? Something he'd kept hidden for so long.
Just as he was about to ask something, I asked him another question. "Where did you live before this?"
San didn't answer right away. He turned his face away. Whatever he was about to say, it was obvious he wasn't good at hiding things. "I moved around a lot. I don't know where those places were."
"Why?"
He frowned. I could tell this was the part he wanted to keep secret. But he also knew he couldn't lie to me. In the end, he chose not to answer.
I sighed. "Because every place you called home always ended in tragedy. Like what happened at the orphanage before they brought you here."
He looked at me again. This time, San wasn't trying to hide anything. I could see the fear, the hopelessness—a deep sadness. For a moment, I saw light return to his eyes. "Do you… know me?"
"One last question," I replied. Maybe he was starting to hope. "If you had the choice to destroy the whole world and everything you hate… or change fate and fix all the wrongs—what would you do?"
San went quiet. Maybe he threw out all the other questions in his head to focus on mine. "I don't really understand," he said. "But if I had that kind of choice… it means I could do both, right? I think I'd ask the person who gave me the choice. I'd do what they wanted."
"You're a fool. If you can do both, why bother to ask anyone else?"
"I just… can't decide on my own." His voice was barely above a whisper. If we weren't in a closed, silent room, I probably wouldn't have heard it.
This time, I fell silent. My mind filled with thoughts. Now I understood. The reason he made me promise that day. The reason I was so angry and disappointed when I saw him again.
It wasn't because San didn't recognize me. It wasn't because he'd changed. I was angry at myself—for being unable to do anything back then. Disappointed in myself for not searching for him right away after that.
The door opened behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who was standing there.
"Time's up," Mala said. "I even gave you extra."
I stood up immediately, turned, and walked toward the door—leaving San still trying to process everything.
"My name is Layla," I said, pausing at the door without turning back. "Don't forget again."[]