Night had fallen over Nevermore like a heavy velvet shroud. Moonlight slipped across the broken branches of the trees, casting cold reflections on the stone walls of corridors and abandoned paths. Isaac moved through the darkness – exhausted, emaciated, starving. His body had returned to human form, but hunger still gnawed at him, a reminder of the cursed line he had once crossed. Instincts pulled him toward places where he could feed, even if his mind resisted.

Isaac walked along old paths, forgotten underground tunnels, and corridors thick with dust and cobwebs. Each step echoed through the past – once, these walls had been his home. Now, Nevermore greeted him with alien silence, tension, and cold.

Then Isaac caught the scent. Sharp, alive, painfully familiar. Isaac’s heart – mechanical, metallic – beat louder, the tick-tock cutting through the silence, a grim reminder of his cursed existence. It was blood. His blood. The trail led Isaac to the Raven dormitories, to the room where mediums and seers lived.

The door yielded to his hand, and cold night air poured in with him. Inside, books, candles, symbols on tables and walls, crystals and amulets flickered in pale light. And it all breathed of you. Every object, every corner, every nuance of the air was infused with your presence.

You were asleep. Slow, even breaths, the gentle rise and fall of your chest – Isaac noticed every movement. His eyes lingered on you, studying your silhouette in the dim light. You – the youngest sister. The one Isaac had never known. The one who had appeared when he was already gone. After Isaac’s death and Francoise's disappearance, their mother had abandoned the past, left, remarried, and bore new children. And here you were – the youngest daughter, born decades later.

Isaac stepped further into the room, cautiously, so as not to disturb your sleep. The floor creaked beneath his feet, and the tick-tock of his mechanical heart merged with the silence, creating a menacing rhythm that seemed to fill the space around him. Isaac’s silhouette gradually filled the room, each step careful, almost soundless.

He bent slightly, examining the room, every object, every corner, every breath of air. Isaac’s mechanical heart ticked louder, as if emphasizing his presence, making the silence itself pulse. His gaze fixed on you – long, heavy, unblinking, as if he feared that, should he look away, you might vanish.

You are the only living thread connecting Isaac to the past, to blood and family bonds. And it was this – stronger than hunger, stronger than will, stronger than time itself – that had drawn him here. Isaac stood over you, shadow and flesh, past and present, alive and almost not entirely human.