Dawn began to bleed into the eastern sky.

  "It’s fine, Ana. I can take the first watch—" Saliya insisted.

  She was immediately cut off by Ana’s stern refusal.

  "There is no room for negotiation here, Sister. You just fought that hybrid; you must rest!" Ana pressed Saliya down onto the makeshift bed, her palms heavy on her sister’s shoulders, while she rolled up her own sleeve.

  "Take more this time. This was your first real combat since you decided to stop denying yourself. It’s impossible to not be drained."

  Saliya opened her mouth to argue, but under the weight of Ana’s gaze, she chose to obey. "...Ugh—"

  Compared to before, Saliya no longer fell into a deep coma after feeding, but a wave of dizziness still washed over her, forcing her to steady her head with her hand.

  "Alright. Rest well. I’ll wake you when it’s time." Ana helped Saliya lie back, draping her discarded coat over her as a temporary bnket.

  It was nearly one in the afternoon when Ana shook Saliya awake from a deep, dreamless sleep.

  As Ana took her turn to rest, Saliya stood and surveyed their temporary sanctuary. They were in a sparsely poputed graveyard, hiding within an abandoned, long-neglected underground catacomb.

  Ten years ago, it was on the surface near this very spot that the Company had captured her.

  She remembered looking into the eyes of that silver-haired man. Immediately, a fog had settled over her mind; she hadn't known what to do next, or what was about to happen. Her st memory as a human was the searing pain of fangs piercing her neck.

  Her first memory upon regaining consciousness was Ana, slumped lifelessly before her eyes, her neck stained with blood. And in her own mouth, the thick, cloying taste of iron.

  Looking at her breathless sister and her own blood-stained hands, the shock had killed her voice in her throat. She had simply run. Blindly.

  Where was she going? She hadn't known. Perhaps she was seeking help, or perhaps she had no destination at all—she just needed to be taken away from that hell.

  When she finally saw humans, she had lunged forward to beg for aid—only to discover she could no longer make a sound. No matter how wide she opened her mouth, only empty air passed through her throat. Through a series of cruel coincidences and her own monstrous appearance, she had been suppressed by gunfire and UV mps until she couldn't move.

  The pain of the bullets and the scorching UV rays had radiated through her entire body. Even then, she couldn't scream. She could only curl into a ball and wait for death. In the end, it was the Company who noticed her anomaly and decided to dim the lights just enough to keep her alive and take her back.

  Saliya shook her head, forcing the memories away. She reached into her gear and pulled out several items—and a rectangur bck object. It was the Company radio she had secured at the meteorological station.

  She had turned the power off immediately after picking it up.

  Then, she performed an action that had left Ana bewildered. While they were passing an old trash bin, Saliya had scavenged through it under Ana’s surprised gaze, pulling out several discarded aluminum snack bags. Though confused, Ana hadn't asked questions, trusting her sister’s judgment.

  Saliya opened the radio’s casing. She carefully removed the GPS and every other redundant component that could risk exposing their location. These were skills she had learned during her weapons and military training at the Company.

  The radio was stripped down to its barest essentials. No tracking, no logs, no extra circuitry.

  She folded the foil snack bags carefully, wrapping the main body and leaving only the microphone hole exposed. It wasn't a perfect Faraday cage, but it was enough to ensure her signal only appeared when she wanted it to. She had rehearsed this movement in her mind countless times, during the long nights when she thought she would never live to see this day.

  Seven seconds. No more.

  Saliya took a deep breath.

  Hoo.Hoo.

  The sound of her breath was light, controlled with clinical precision. No tremors, no emotion. She stopped.

  Once satisfied, she powered the radio down and wrapped it in another yer of foil to prevent any stray signals. When she tucked it into the hidden pocket of her coat, she didn't look at it again.

  She was afraid she wouldn't be able to resist trying one more time.

  The impulse wasn't logical; it was a long-lost expectation that felt almost like physical pain. Like shouting a name that had long since vanished from the world, just to see if it still existed.

  All that remained was to wait for the hour.

  When night fell, the sisters veiled their faces and left the graveyard. They passed a few small groups of people, but to the onlookers, they were merely mourners leaving the cemetery te.

  Saliya’s hand gripped the radio in her pocket, the weight of the metal and foil feeling like a responsibility, like a breath—a reminder that every second tonight was vital.

  As they passed the great tree where she had been captured, she paused. The wind carried the scent of damp earth and withered leaves. Ten years. The tree stood unshakable in the same spot. Where she had once fallen, a lifeless crow now y.

  She suddenly remembered Ana’s words: "The existence of a blood donor cannot merely be a tool. Respect—this is the pact between you and your power."

  Saliya lowered her head, holding the thought in her heart. She didn't yet have the capacity to fully understand it, but she knew there was something she wanted to accomplish tonight.

  Her pace was a fraction slower than usual. Half of her attention remained on the foil-wrapped rectangle in her pocket.

  Ana stopped. "Sister."

  Saliya looked up. Ana reached out and took her wrist, bringing them both to a halt. The grip wasn't heavy, but it was firm.

  "You’re going to use that 'trophy' tonight, aren't you?"

  It wasn't a question. Saliya remained silent for a moment, then gave a slow nod. Ana didn't press for details; she simply released her hand, her voice dropping to a low murmur.

  "Then remember one thing." She turned to face Saliya. "Regardless of whether you get a response tonight... the fact that you are alive, standing here, and able to try and contact him again... none of it was a given."

  Saliya’s gaze wavered. Ana’s tone wasn't one of reproach or lecturing. It was as if she were preemptively pulling the brakes on an emotion that was about to spiral out of control.

  "You are willing to look for him again because of what he gave you back then," Ana said softly. "Not just blood. He gave you a reason to not completely vanish during those years." She paused. "So—respect the donor. And respect the time you spent coming back to life."

  Saliya didn't answer. She only lowered her head, her fingertips pressing lightly against the hidden pocket of her coat. It wasn't a weapon. It wasn't a distress beacon. It wasn't a final hope.

  It was a promise.

  As the night deepened, and with Ana’s consent, Saliya found a secluded corner and drew out the radio. This time, her movements were even slower, even more cautious.

  The foil was unwrapped. The casing checked. The microphone confirmed. She didn't turn it on immediately.

  Seven seconds. This time, she would ensure every second was perfect. Her shoulders trembled slightly; she controlled her heartbeat and slowed her breathing. The device was light, but it felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

  If he’s still alive.If he still remembers.If he’s no longer on this channel.

  The thoughts sprouted one by one, and she ruthlessly suppressed them. Not now.

  She took a deep breath. She switched the power on and held the transmitter. A brief static hiss flowed through. Her shoulders tensed.

  Seven seconds—absolute. She counted in her head.

  Hoo.Hoo.

  No trembling. No sob. No extra emotion.

  The breaths were light but clearly discernible, each one like a message cast into the abyss of the night. In her heart, a long-buried tension and expectation surged—a longing for J, and a hunger for a potential response from the future. It was as if she were performing a formal call for rescue on behalf of the self that had long since disappeared.

  Seven seconds passed. There was no response.

  Saliya immediately shut off the power and rewrapped the radio, ensuring no stray signals could leak. She lowered her head, her forehead resting against her knees. In that moment, her shoulders gave a single, violent shudder.

  Not out of disappointment. But because she had actually done it.

  Nearby, Ana watched her in silence. She knew what her sister was doing. And she knew that this was not a moment that should be interrupted. After Saliya composed herself, she walked to Ana’s side. They exchanged a silent look and continued their journey.

  They reached the familiar crossroads from ten years ago. They lingered for a moment, their hearts heavy with complexity, before moving forward.

  Finally, the sisters stood before their home. Their hometown, after a decade of absence. After their family had died in the accident, they had taken over this house, which had always felt a bit too rge for just the two of them.

  The house was in ruins. The lock was broken, the window frames were rotted, and the walls still bore the faint traces of festive decorations they had put up years ago. They pushed the door open with practiced ease and stepped inside. No one tried to turn on the lights.

  Dust rose as their footsteps nded, only to settle slowly back onto the floor. The air carried a scent of the past—not of mold, but the smell of old wood and aged fabric. Saliya stood in the center of the living room, staring at the floor covered in dust and the skeletal remains of furniture.

  It was here that she had fought with Ana and stormed out in a fit of rage. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet as vivid as yesterday. Ana seemed touched by the nostalgia as well; her eyes reddened slightly, but she said nothing, heading straight for the attic.

  When she came back down, she was holding a small box in both hands. She knelt before Saliya and pced the box between them. Opening it revealed a neckce.

  It was a cross. But curiously, it was connected to two chains, and in the very center, there was a microscopic dividing line. Saliya’s breath hitched.

  Their 15th birthday gift. The year their family was still whole. When they were still ordinary human sisters.

  "...I thought it was long gone," Saliya whispered.

  Ana shook her head. "I kept it." She paused. "It’s just... neither of us wore it after that day."

  Saliya reached out, her thumb tracing the line at the center of the cross. She pressed a hidden catch. With a click so faint it was nearly inaudible, the whole cross split into two symmetrical halves in her palm. It wasn't broken; it was designed to be separated.

  She pced one half into Ana’s hand. Ana stared down at the semi-cross, her fingers slowly tightening around it.

  "This time... it’s not a talisman," Saliya said. She fastened the neckce around Ana’s neck, her movements light and slow. "It’s just a reminder—" she paused, "—that no matter what we become, we are still alive."

  Ana didn't speak. She fastened the other half around Saliya’s neck and then pulled her into a hug. It was brief, but intense.

  The neckces were whole once more in that moment, even though they were split in two.

  That night, they did not continue their journey. They tidied up their old room in the attic and spent time on small tasks that even they felt were trivial—flipping through old photo albums, unearthing dolls they used to py with as children.

  As the sky began to brighten, they shuttered the windows and returned to their respective beds. Saliya rested first; Ana took the first watch.

  Saliya had already fallen asleep. She y on the bed she hadn't touched in ten years, her breathing steady. Her silver-ced hair spilled across her face, masking most of her expression.

  Ana sat on her own bed, her eyes slowly scanning the space between the door and the window. She wasn't looking at her sister. Her right hand was unconsciously gripping the semi-cross at her chest.

  The metal surface had long since lost its luster, the edges marred by fine scratches. They weren't from the st ten years; they were from a time much further back. Her thumb rubbed the dividing line in the center repeatedly. The line served no purpose now—the two halves were separate entities. Yet she touched it instinctively.

  As if to confirm it was truly there.

  Ana took a slow breath and let it out. She remembered so many things. That birthday, when she had initially thought the gift was a bit tacky. How she had compined aloud but smiled secretly when she turned away. How they had promised to wear them forever.

  None of those promises were kept. Her knuckles whitened. She wasn't grieving for the neckce. She was grieving for the sister she thought she had lost forever—who was now sleeping right before her eyes.

  Alive. Breathing. Able to press half of the cross back into her hand.

  Ana lowered her gaze. She knew she was no longer someone who could cry. In the world of the True Blood, tears were meaningless. Weakness was exploited. Loss of control led to death. So she shed no tears. She simply rested her forehead against her knees for a short moment, like a bow to something unseen.

  She remembered the screaming match she’d had with the other members of the cn. How the Elders had called her mad. How she had shouted, "That is my sister! None of you understand who she is!"

  She remembered every clue she had followed. Every disappointment. Every time she thought she was one step too te.

  Her hand finally left the semi-cross, but only moved an inch away. She hadn't truly let go. She turned to look at Saliya. Her gaze was peaceful—not with sorrow, not with tenderness, but with the quiet of someone who had made up her mind and would never look back.

  Saliya opened her eyes in the haze of half-sleep. She didn't get up immediately. Her gaze first found the cracks in the ceiling before drifting to the adjacent bed.

  Ana was sitting there, her back to her. Her posture was straight, motionless—like a statue pced at the edge of the darkness.

  Saliya blinked. She saw Ana’s right hand resting by her leg, her knuckles tight. She was gripping something. Saliya looked down at the cross at her own chest. In the gloom, it was barely visible. But she knew it was there.

  She made no sound. She didn't sit up. She simply curled a bit deeper into the sheets and allowed her breathing to remain steady. She was careful not to disturb the figure of her sister’s back.

  After a while, she closed her eyes again. This time, she fell into a deeper sleep.