Later that night, in the quiet of the Shiverstone hotel, Annabelle rubbed her sleepy eyes and glanced over at Cassia, still fast asleep. She slipped out of bed and padded to the window.

The city was silent. Cold moonlight spilled through the glass, painting her face in silver.

Axel had told her everything was finally settled. The danger had passed—or so he believed. Yet the worry in her heart wouldn’t go away.

Her thoughts drifted back to the moment Vaughn had appeared. Cassia had been dying. Vaughn had been ready to strike again. And Annabelle—terrified, desperate—had made her choice. She’d transformed.

The memory still burned in her chest. Regret came in waves. Once exposed, there was no turning back. Krythos’s hatred toward the infected had only grown stronger.

If she were ever discovered, she knew what would happen. She wouldn’t get a trial—just a table in some cold lab, a scalpel, and a number. And Axel… everything he had fought for would crumble because of her.

Her fingers tightened around the Life Crystal in her hand. She shut her eyes, forcing the anxiety away, and began to focus. The crimson light inside the crystal pulsed faintly, resonating with the blood in her veins.

Since soaking in the Dragon Pond, her progress had skyrocketed. She was now a mid-level, Level 3 Awakener. Her Blood Traction ability had evolved twice. But even so, she was still nowhere near strong enough to protect Axel.

“My brother’s already given me so much,” she whispered to herself.

She wasn’t naïve anymore. She knew that the crystals he’d handed her weren’t just rare—they were priceless, worth more than anything on the open market.

Moonlight brushed against her cheeks as she concentrated.

Then—“I’m on the rooftop.”

A voice, low and cold, echoed inside her mind.

Her eyes snapped open. She looked around the dim room, heart pounding. No one. No sound. Just the whisper of wind through the hallway.

The next instant, an invisible force wrapped around Annabelle like a gust of wind. Before she could react, she was yanked clean out of the window and landed softly beside the man.

“Sit.”

The word wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that pressed down on her chest. Even seated, the man radiated an oppressive, almost suffocating presence.

Annabelle hesitated, her small frame tense and trembling. “Um… sir, it’s cold out here. Can I go back inside? My parents will worry if they find me gone.”

The man was silent for a long moment. Then he raised his hand slightly, and a faint ripple of Force energy wrapped around her, warm and controlled.

“If you keep following Axel down this path,” he said quietly, “you’ll both end up destroyed.”

Annabelle froze. Her pupils contracted, and she took a sharp step back, instinctively dropping into a defensive stance. She wasn’t stupid. With the power this man had just shown, she wouldn’t last a second if he wanted to kill her. But his words—those words—cut straight through her fear.

The man tilted his head slightly, as though studying her reaction through the bronze mask. Then he gave a small nod, almost approving. “If you truly want to help him, then you must grow stronger. So tell me… do you want to become stronger?”

Annabelle bit her lip, her voice trembling. “What are you talking about? What do you want me to do?”

Without answering, the man reached into his robe and pulled out several small leather pouches. They clinked softly as he dropped them onto the rooftop. Thick, dark liquid sloshed inside them.

The metallic scent hit her nose instantly. Annabelle’s delicate nostrils flared, and she swallowed hard. “Is that… human blood?”

The man in the bronze mask nodded once.

Annabelle went cold all over. Her heart raced, pounding in her throat. He knew. He knew the secret she and Axel had been hiding for years—the secret that could destroy them both.

She didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. If he wanted to hurt her, he’d have done it already.

“You can get stronger without drinking blood,” the man said evenly. “But you can’t survive without it. After all…” He let the words trail off, as if the rest didn’t need to be said.

Annabelle’s voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t want to…”

For three years, she had lived on her brother’s blood. Because of that, her body had never grown the way it should have. She was small, fragile, and always cold.

Ever since Axel had given her the Life Crystal, she hadn’t drunk a drop. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t—not unless she had no other choice.

No matter what she was, she wasn’t an animal. She wasn’t a monster.

“If that’s your choice,” the man said quietly, brushing the frost from his sleeves, “then I have nothing more to say.” He bent down, gathering the bags. “But before I leave, let me ask you one question.”

He looked up at her, his eyes hidden behind the mask. “Do you truly want to help him?”

Annabelle’s gaze fell to the packages, the blood inside glinting darkly under the moonlight. Her heart twisted. The question dug into her like a thorn.

“Will I… become a monster?” she whispered.

The man hadn’t expected that. He stepped closer, his movement as fluid as smoke.

The two of them stood side by side on the rooftop—one tall, imposing, and unreadable; the other small.

Without warning, Annabelle felt the Force lift her again. The world blurred, and suddenly they were rising—higher and higher, until the icy wind howled around them. Yet she didn’t feel cold. A protective aura shielded her, soft as silk.

Below them, the city stretched out like a frozen sea of lights.

On a street corner, a vendor rubbed his hands together, selling grilled oysters from a secondhand cart, his breath fogging in the air.

An old scavenger trudged down an alley, collecting bottles one by one, shoulders hunched under the weight of his sack.

At the city wall, a Hunter squad was hauling the carcass of a giant mutant beast—and the bodies of their fallen teammates.

Scene after scene flashed below them.

The man said nothing. Neither did she.

When they finally landed back on the rooftop, the night was utterly still.

The man’s voice broke the silence. “What did you feel?”

Annabelle’s lips parted. She hesitated, then murmured, “Just… sadness.”

The man reached out, resting a heavy, gloved hand on her head. “As long as that sadness stays in your heart,” he said softly, “you’ll never become a monster.”

He turned, walking toward the edge of the roof. The bag of blood sat at her feet, glistening faintly under the moonlight.

“Can I tell my brother about you?” she asked suddenly.

He paused, his back to her. “If you think you can.”

“Then… how can I find you again?”

He didn’t answer. His figure simply shimmered—then faded into the air, dissolving like mist.

If not for the weight of the bag in her hand—warm when she first touched it, now cooling fast—Annabelle might have believed the whole thing was just a dream.

“When you need me again,” his voice echoed faintly, almost like a memory, “I’ll come find you.”

.......

Night had fallen over Shiverstone. The lights dimmed one by one until the city sank into a cold, uneasy silence.

Annabelle sat by the window, her breath fogging the glass. The faint, metallic scent drifted up from the pouch in her hand, sharp enough to make her pulse quicken. Something deep inside her stirred—something she’d spent years trying to silence.

Those who can’t give up anything can achieve nothing.

She repeated the words in her head, steadying her breath. “As long as my heart doesn’t rot,” she whispered to herself, “I won’t become a monster.”

The night wind tousled her soft hair. Her young face—still delicate—hardened with determination.

She’d once believed she was different. That because of her brother, she could be a special kind of infected—someone who didn’t need to feed on blood and flesh to survive.

But how naïve that had been.