Aisha gritted her teeth. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she stepped into the corridor, leaving the sealed door behind her.
Falco's house no longer felt like a safe place —it reeked of memories and secrets, thick and choking.
Her fingers brushed the edges of the medallion at her neck, its pulse now synchronized with her heart.
The hallway's lights flickered, one by one.
And then… silence broke.
A voice, deep and jagged like broken glass, echoed from the shadows.
—You thought I wouldn't find you?
Steven.
He emerged like a nightmare — tall, clothed in dark leather, eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction.
In his hands, he held a black blade, its edge glimmering with a cruel light.
—I told you, little moonlight... —his voice slithered— once I set my eyes on something, I never let go.
Aisha didn't flinch. Her heart, though trembling, had learned to beat against the rhythm of fear.
She clutched the obsidian dagger Falco had given her. It wasn't just a weapon. It was a promise.
—I'm not yours to claim —she spat.
He lunged.
She dodged, barely, feeling the wind from his blade cut the air behind her.
The floorboards groaned beneath them, the house itself protesting the violence.
Steven laughed, twisted joy painted across his face.
—You still don't know what's inside you, do you?
Before he could strike again, Aisha thrust the dagger forward.
It met his shoulder, tearing a growl from his lips. Smoke hissed from the wound —he was no mere man. Not anymore.
—This won't end here, witch.
And with that, he vanished into the shadows, his laughter echoing like a curse.
Aisha collapsed against the wall, chest heaving. Blood stained her hand —his, not hers.
She raised the medallion again. It shimmered, and in its center, a phrase now glowed in crimson:
"Sanguis Sanathiel Vincit."
Sanathiel's blood will prevail.
Tears welled in her eyes.
She pressed her forehead to the cold wall and whispered, "Come back to me."
Meanwhile, far from the house, Rasen stepped off the bus, the city unfolding around him like a predator waiting in stillness. His hoodie couldn't hide the fire in his eyes —nor the war beneath his skin.
He knew this was no longer a simple search.
It was a hunt.
And he wasn't alone.
[Post-Credit Scene]
The abandoned greenhouse whispered with unseen voices. The moonlight streamed through cracked glass, weaving shadows across the wilted plants. Yet amidst the decay, a single white flower bloomed —the same kind that once rose from Sanathiel's ashes.
A raven landed on a shattered pot, its eyes glowing like embers.
Footsteps approached.
A hooded figure entered, cloaked in silence. They knelt beside the flower and gently touched its petals. It pulsed with silver light, as if it remembered them.
—The mark has awakened —the figure murmured, their voice neither male nor female, but something in between. Something ancient.
From the darkest corner, a creature slithered —its body made of smoke, its eyes countless and unblinking.
—And the girl? —it hissed, voice dripping like molten wax.
—She lives... for now —the hooded one replied, pulling a black crystal orb from within their robe. Inside it: Aisha, sleeping, dagger in hand.
—The pact nears its renewal. And this time... the daughter of Itzel must choose who she lets die.
The raven shrieked and took to the skies, vanishing into the night.
Below, the white flower slowly withered.