The dew had not yet evaporated from the leaves when Theron crossed the greenhouses.
His steps were slow, almost reverent. He carried a leather notebook in one hand, writing in small, meticulous pencil strokes, as if every flower, every root, deserved to be recorded with devotion.
He crouched in front of a plant with thick, opaque petals that only opened at dawn. He touched the soil with his fingertips, brought it to his nose, then crumbled it between his thumb and forefinger.
—Acidic… too much salt —he murmured to himself—. But still alive.
From a higher archway in the greenhouse, partially hidden behind a pillar wrapped in violet vines, I watched him.
It wasn't intentional.
I had simply come there looking for air—and found him instead, standing in the middle of all that green, sunlight barely brushing his golden hair.
There was something about Theron that unsettled me. Not because he was threatening, but because of the contrast.
He was… too grounded. Too human.
And yet, the way he touched the plants carried a familiarity that didn't feel entirely of this world.
—Are you planning to stay up there all morning, or are you going to say hello? —he said, without turning.
I blinked.
—How did you know I was here?
—The flower beside you closed its petals slightly. They're sensitive to shifts in energy. And yours is… intense. Like a storm that refuses to break.
I descended the stone steps slowly.
—I suppose that's a compliment —I said, not entirely convinced.
—It is. Do you want to see something?
Without waiting for my answer, he extended his hand.
I didn't take it.
But I followed.
We moved into a more humid section, where the plants seemed to whisper among themselves. A row of glass enclosures covered a worktable. Inside, small vials held liquids in shades I had never seen before—liquid silver, opalescent blue, translucent gold.
—What is all this?
—Studies. I'm trying to find a way to replicate your husband's blood.
I stopped.
—And how exactly do you plan to do that?
—By observing what Declan cannot see himself —he said, without arrogance—. The island, the flora, the air. Everything reacts to his essence… but also to yours.
—To mine?
For the first time, he looked at me directly.
—You haven't realized it yet, have you?
—Realized what?
—That you're connected to this island too. That there's something in you… that doesn't entirely belong to this world.
I was about to deny it.
But in that very moment, something pulsed beneath my feet.
A subtle hum.
A shiver—not of fear, but of recognition.
I turned slightly.
At the far end stood a display case covered with a linen cloth. The energy seemed stronger there. As if something was calling to me without a voice.
—What's under that? —I asked.
Theron didn't answer immediately. He approached with caution.
—It's an artifact of unknown origin. We found it years ago in an ancient cave to the east. No one has been able to activate it. Not even Declan.
—Then why is it here?
—Because the temple rejected it. But it keeps pulsing… as if it's waiting for something.
I didn't think.
I simply acted.
I reached out and pulled the cloth away.
It was a circular object, metallic, its surface both polished and uneven, as though it had formed on its own—no hammer, no mold. Spiral engravings covered it, and at its center was an indentation the exact size of a human palm.
And then… I touched it.
The moment my fingers brushed its edge, the world seemed to thicken.
The air charged with electricity.
A faint light emerged from the artifact and climbed up my arm—warm, slow.
It didn't hurt.
But something inside me responded, as if a hidden thread recognized the call.
Theron didn't move.
He only stared at me, eyes wide.
—Your eyes… —he whispered.
—What?
—They glowed. Just for a second. Golden. Like… like his blood.
I pulled my hand away instantly.
The artifact went dark.
But the echo of its light continued to pulse in my chest.
—What does this mean?
Theron lowered his gaze.
—I'm not certain. But if the island recognizes you… then something in you belongs to it.
Later that day, when I went looking for Declan to tell him, I couldn't find him.
An alarm had sounded in the village.
An old man had collapsed in the square. Declan had been called to help. Calista had offered to go with him.
Theron as well.
I stayed behind in the house.
Or so I thought.
I made my way down toward the temple hall, looking for Melyra.
But it was Calista who appeared in the corridor.
She was smiling.
Too much.
—Are you feeling well? —she asked, her voice so sweet it felt like poisoned sugar.
—Perfectly —I replied, crossing my arms.
—Did you have a good day with my brother?
—Productive.
—He's brilliant, isn't he? Always has been. Declan admires him deeply.
—Does he? —I let her continue.
—Oh, yes. When we were young, they were inseparable. Though I was always there. With them. In everything. I always knew Declan was special. So… different from everyone else.
Her gaze drifted from my neck down to my wrists, as if searching for something she couldn't see.
—And you? —she added—. Did you know? From the beginning?
The way she said it wasn't a question.
It was a warning disguised as politeness.
—I knew what I needed to know. And that was enough.
—How fortunate —she said, turning with that flawless grace—. I've spent my entire life trying to understand everything… and I'm still not finished.
I watched her walk away—light, perfect, as if she barely touched the ground.
And for the first time since I arrived, something cold tightened in my stomach.
As if, beyond the island's secrets…
I was about to become one of them.