The moment her name entered the war… it stopped being a secret.
—-
The estate was too quiet.
Not peaceful.
Not safe.
Just… quiet.
Like something was waiting.
Maria stood by the window, her reflection faint against the glass. The sky outside was pale, untouched by the chaos that had already begun inside these walls.
Her fingers curled slowly around the ring.
Cold.
Heavier than it should be.
Her breathing remained steady, but something beneath it—something deeper—felt… off.
Unfamiliar.
Or maybe—
Forgotten.
"…the girl who survived 2006."
The words echoed again.
And again.
And again.
Maria closed her eyes.
For a moment—
There was nothing.
Then—
A sound.
Soft.
Distant.
A child crying.
Her eyes snapped open.
The room was silent.
Empty.
Still.
But her heart—
It wasn't calm anymore.
A sharp knock broke through the quiet.
She turned.
The door opened before she could respond.
Mikhail.
He stepped inside without hesitation, his presence immediately altering the air. The space seemed to tighten around him, as if even silence adjusted itself to his control.
His gaze found her instantly.
Not soft.
Not distant.
Focused.
Studying.
"What do you remember about 2006?"
No greeting.
No hesitation.
Just the question.
Maria didn't move.
Didn't look away.
But something flickered in her expression—something small, almost invisible.
"I don't remember anything," she said.
It wasn't entirely a lie.
But it wasn't the truth either.
Mikhail watched her carefully.
Too carefully.
As if he could see through the spaces between her words.
He stepped closer.
Slow.
Measured.
Dangerous.
"You should," he said quietly.
The distance between them evaporated.
Not touching.
Not yet.
But close enough that the tension pressed against her skin.
Maria didn't step back.
That alone was a change.
"I said I don't," she replied, her voice steady—but sharper now.
A challenge.
Mikhail's gaze darkened slightly.
Not anger.
Recognition.
"You're either lying," he said, voice low, controlled, "or someone made sure you wouldn't remember."
The words lingered between them.
Heavy.
Maria's fingers tightened around the ring.
For a split second—
Another flash—
A hand.
Small.
Covered in something dark.
A voice calling out—
Then—
Nothing.
Her breath hitched.
Just slightly.
But Mikhail saw it.
Of course he did.
"Interesting."
The voice cut in smoothly.
Aurélie.
She leaned against the doorway, arms loosely crossed, her gaze moving between them with quiet calculation.
"How memory chooses to disappear when it matters most."
Maria turned toward her slowly.
Aurélie's expression was calm.
Too calm.
Curious—but not surprised.
Her eyes dropped briefly.
To the ring.
And something in her gaze shifted.
Just for a second.
Recognition?
Or something darker.
She stepped into the room.
Unhurried.
Controlled.
"You don't remember anything?" Aurélie asked gently.
Too gently.
Maria held her gaze.
"No."
A pause.
Aurélie tilted her head slightly.
"Strange," she murmured.
"Because the past usually remembers us… even when we don't remember it."
Silence followed.
Tight.
Watching.
Testing.
From the hallway, a faint chuckle.
Nikolai.
He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, eyes flickering between the three of them with sharp amusement.
"This isn't about enemies anymore," he said.
His gaze landed on Maria.
"It's about her."
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then steadied.
No one moved.
But the air shifted.
Again.
Mikhail turned slightly, his expression unreadable.
"Check the power grid," he ordered sharply.
A guard's voice responded from the corridor. "Already on it, sir."
But something in his tone—
Uneasy.
Maria felt it before she saw it.
A presence.
Behind her.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
Just—
There.
Her breath stilled.
Slowly—
She turned.
Nothing.
The room was empty.
But the feeling didn't leave.
Then—
A soft sound.
Right behind her.
She spun.
Too late.
A shadow moved past the doorway.
Fast.
Silent.
Gone.
"Did you see that?" she asked, her voice sharper now.
Mikhail was already moving.
In an instant, he crossed the room, stepping between her and the door, his presence blocking, shielding—
Controlling.
"Stay here," he said.
Not a suggestion.
An order.
But Maria's eyes were fixed on the hallway.
"I'm not imagining things," she said.
"I didn't say you were."
His voice dropped.
Lower.
Colder.
"Which is why you're not leaving this room."
Nikolai straightened slightly, interest sharpening.
"Well," he murmured, "this just got entertaining."
The lights flickered again.
Harder this time.
The entire floor dimmed—
Then snapped back.
Footsteps echoed in the distance.
Running.
Then—
Silence.
A guard rushed into view.
"Sir Mikhail—security just glitched again. Cameras are—"
He stopped.
Noticing Maria.
Then the tension in the room.
"They're not just inside anymore," he continued, voice tight.
"They're moving."
Silence dropped like a blade.
Maria's fingers tightened around the ring.
Her pulse quickened.
That feeling again—
Watching.
Waiting.
Closer.
Somewhere deep in the estate—
A door creaked open.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Mikhail's jaw tightened.
Not fear.
Calculation.
"They found a gap," Nikolai said quietly.
"No," Mikhail replied.
His eyes darkened.
"They're creating one."
Maria swallowed slowly.
The echo of that child's cry returned.
Louder now.
Closer.
And for the first time—
She felt it clearly.
This wasn't random.
This wasn't a coincidence.
This was deliberate.
—-
Her name had entered the war.
And now—
There was nowhere left to hide.