The taste of fear still lingers when the memory fades.
When I opened my eyes, everything was soft and quiet. The salty sea breeze drifted in through a slightly cracked window, rustling the curtains like whispering ghosts. I was lying in a warm bed, tucked under a navy blue blanket that smelled faintly of pine and something else—something warm and familiar.
Ilias's scent.
The room was dim, only lit by the early morning light slipping through the slits in the window. I sat up slowly, clutching the blanket around me. My heart still beat a little too fast. My hand trembled just remembering it—his voice.
The man who ruined everything.
The one who laughed while my house burned.
There was a tray of food on the table across from the bed. Bread, tea, fruit slices—neatly arranged. And a small folded note beside it.
"Didn't want to wake you. Eat something if you can. I'll be up on deck."
— Ilias
I held the paper in my hand a bit too long before I finally stood.
⸻
I found him where he said he'd be—leaning against the railing of the upper deck, looking out at the wide-open sea. His back was to me, but somehow I knew he already knew I was there.
"You're awake," he said without turning.
"Yeah…" My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
The wind played with his hair as he finally turned to face me, pulling his cloth back over his eyes. "You heard someone on the radio last night. Someone familiar."
I flinched slightly, looking away. "Yeah."
He stepped closer. "Do you want to tell me who it was?"
"I don't know his name. I don't even know what he looks like." I paused, gripping the railing beside him. "But I'll never forget his voice. He was in my house that night. When everything went wrong."
He didn't say anything for a while, but I could feel his gaze on me. I wasn't used to someone just listening.
"I'm going to find him," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. "And I'm going to find my parents. I know they're not dead. I can feel it."
Ilias's voice was low. "Then we'll start by finding out how that man's voice ended up on that broadcast."
I blinked. "You believe me?"
He nodded. "I told you. I'm not here to chain you. I'm here to help you remember how to run."
His words stuck to my heart like a promise I didn't know I needed.
⸻
Later that day, the ship's bell rang twice—ding-ding. A call from the lookout.
Luka ran across the deck, a map in hand. "Captain! We've spotted Blackreef in the distance."
Blackreef. I'd never heard the name before, but from the way Ilias's expression darkened, I knew it wasn't the kind of place you vacationed.
"We're docking there?" I asked.
"There's someone there who might know the masked man," Ilias said. "And if that broadcast came from this region, we'll find the source there."
I clenched my fists. Finally, something that felt like a clue.
But as I turned to head back below deck, something caught my eye. At the far end of the hall below, a door I'd never seen before—it was open just a crack, and light was spilling out from inside.
And for a moment—just a second—I saw her.
The girl from the mirror. The girl with my face.
She stood in the light, lips moving. No sound came through, but I could swear I heard her:
"He's watching you. Even now."
Then the door slammed shut on its own.
I ran over to the door and opened as wide as possible. But the room was dark and basically empty. It's looked like a storage room with only cleaning supply.
A broom and mop in the corner leaning against the wall. A most empty bucket below. Stacks of sacks in the corner.
Nothing in there would look like light came out of it.
While staring there in disbelief, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Ilias' low voice whispered near my ear.
"Hmm..what's in there that had you dash over so fast..?"
I turned my head over to the right of me. Ilias had leaned down, his head over my shoulder, seemed like he was looking ahead in the closet.
I bit my lip and felt flushed. I moved over to distance myself from him a bit. He tilted his head my direction, it looked as if he was smirking.
The ships bell rang three times, Luka called for Ilias. "Captain! we're docking now."
Ilias stood up straight and turned toward the dock. His face darkened even more than earlier and a scowl appeared on his face.
He started walking my direction and put out his hand. "Are you ready princess?"
Slowly, I reached out my hand towards his.
I was determined to find answers, for everything to be normal again.
I placed my hand in his.
His palm was warm, rough with calluses—like someone who had lived ten lives and carried every one of them in his skin. His fingers wrapped around mine tightly, grounding me. And without another word, we stepped off the ship and onto the Blackreef docks.
The air smelled like wet iron and salt. The sky was overcast, smothered in gray clouds, and the water lapped quietly against the wood like it was holding its breath. Blackreef didn't look like a place that welcomed strangers. Tall, crumbling buildings lined the narrow streets, draped in rusted metalwork and wires that hissed with electricity. People watched us from behind half-closed shutters, their eyes sharp and suspicious.
"This place gives me the creeps," Luka muttered, adjusting the strap on his shoulder where his blade hung. "Reminds me of the old zones… before the collapse."
Ilias kept his grip on my hand for a few seconds longer, then let go.
"We won't be staying long," he said. "Just enough to ask questions. Get names. Find out who's broadcasting old ghosts."
Old ghosts.
That's exactly what it felt like—like I'd stepped into the mouth of something ancient and rotting, and it wanted to remember me.
We walked through the town slowly, the creaking of old wood and the hum of unseen machines echoing all around us. A woman swept dust from her shop stoop, staring at us with hollow eyes. A child peeked out from under a tarp, then disappeared just as quickly.
Then we reached a rusted sign hanging crooked above a door: The Black Chime.
It looked like a tavern, or maybe a former one. The paint was peeling off the windows, and a wind chime made of old spoons and bones clinked weakly in the breeze.
"We'll start here," Ilias said.
He pushed open the door, and immediately I was hit by the scent of wet wood, engine oil, and old smoke. Inside, it was dim and buzzing—like the whole place existed on a different frequency. A few shadowed figures sat at tables, but no one turned to look at us. Not even the barkeeper, a woman with pale scars on her neck and a single glowing eye.
Ilias walked up to her and placed a coin on the counter.
"We're looking for someone. He wears a mask. Has a voice like silver and smoke."
The barkeeper didn't blink. "You and everyone else."
My chest tightened. "He sent out a broadcast. Last night. It came through the fog."
That made her pause. Her glowing eye flicked toward me—sharply.
Then she nodded toward the back. "Talk to the one in the booth. Third from the left. He's been hearing the broadcasts, too. Says the voice comes in through his dreams."
Dreams?
We turned and made our way to the booth. The man sitting there was old, his skin wrinkled and dark, his clothes patchy but neat. He was sipping from a tin mug and mumbling to himself.
Ilias stepped forward, but the man raised a hand.
"She's the one," he croaked, pointing one bony finger straight at me. "The girl with two faces."
I froze. "What did you say?"
The man's eyes were milky, but somehow they stared straight through me.
"You're haunted, girl," he whispered. "One of you lives. One of you listens."
And then he smiled. A strange, knowing smile.
"Ask the mirror. She'll tell you what he took."