After leaving the mansion with Callum, Aster headed to the gallery, seeking the silent refuge that space always offered him. Emeline was there, as usual, watching from a distance as he wandered, lost in thought. Noticing Aster's tense, somber expression, she approached, sensing that something deeply troubled him.
Emeline was the only listener capable of understanding the weight of the truths he bore. She knew he didn't truly belong in that world, and understood the complexity of his existence, and the dark history that Aster carried with him.
"I already knew I was Jared Phillips's son," he began, his voice almost cold. "I also know Beatrice tried to kill me. I read about it years ago in a book that detailed all her conspiracies and atrocities. She sent someone to finish me off, and here I am… as a failed job."
Emeline held her breath, trying to absorb the depth of it. More than the cruelty of his story, what truly haunted her was the possibility that another world existed as if it were a tale he lived out of a page. That thought pursued her.
"I… I can't stop thinking about it," she confessed, looking at him intently as if capturing each word. "That other world… the way you talk about it as if it could simply exist in a book or a story… I need to understand, Aster. Who were you there? How did you end up here?"
He glanced at a dark, intense painting that seemed to mirror the storm in his mind. Although reluctant, he sensed the weight of Emeline's questioning and the depth of her trust in him. "It's hard to explain, Emeline. I was… a federal agent, someone who worked in covert investigations. I knew darkness in ways few could comprehend. My life felt like it had two suns that burned without explanation. And then, an accident brought me here, from the skies… And here I am, part of a story that, in some way, was already written before I entered it."
Emeline's silence wasn't one of resignation but of anticipation. Her eyes reflected a mix of curiosity and unease, as though she couldn't be satisfied with superficial answers. "And what will you do now?" she asked, her voice hesitant but determined. "Do you want to go back… there? Is this place just an accident? Can you return?"
Aster sighed, feeling the weight of her words. The environment around them seemed to close in, heavy with questions and revelations hanging between them. "I don't know, Emeline. I don't have an answer for that." He looked at her, noting the mix of fear and curiosity in her gaze. "If I could… maybe, I don't know…"
Emeline listened as he admitted details of recent murder accusations involving Fredrick Lund and Reese Davis. He explained that while the case was resolved with the authorities, the attack on the Phillips family remained a mystery and that he might stay away from the gallery for a few days.
After a moment of silence, Emeline looked directly into his eyes, her voice firm and straightforward: "Aster… did you have anything to do with their deaths? With Lund and Davis?"
He held her gaze, letting raw honesty surface. "No," he replied, his voice steady, as if those words were a shield.
"And could it have been someone from your other world?" she pressed, with hesitation and a glimmer of hope that his response might ease her worry.
Aster looked away, visibly uncomfortable, focusing on a nearby painting. "No. I don't believe so." His voice wavered, betraying a moment of doubt. "I mean... I hope not."
Behind his words, Aster knew the truth: he had been the one to end Reese Davis's life and that of his blackmailer lover. However, the attack on Clarice continued to haunt him, a shadow that wouldn't leave his mind. He wondered if, in some inexplicable way, someone from his past had crossed the boundaries of worlds, lurking in that universe as a distorted reflection of his own story.
Emeline watched him, not with caution, but with an insatiable curiosity, like someone on the verge of touching something extraordinary and terrifying. The intensity of her gaze showed that this wasn't just a story for her. "You say you came from another world… does that mean that what we know as orbits, dimensions, all these laws we believe immutable… can be altered?" Her voice, gripped by a nearly hypnotic fascination, trembled slightly. "Aster, this is what I can't ignore. Are we talking about another reality… another orbit? Another planet?"
Aster looked at her, surprised by the precision of her questions and the wonder that filled the air between them. It was as if Emeline stood on the edge of something beyond her understanding, an encounter with the unknown that pushed her to see beyond the structures of the world. She didn't just want answers; she longed to understand what his presence in that place meant.
"I don't fully understand how I arrived here myself," he admitted, his voice sounding distant. "But if the orbits have crossed, if the laws that separate us have truly been altered… perhaps it's not just an accident. Perhaps it's something that has always been lurking, waiting for the moment to emerge."
The silence that followed was heavy, and Emeline, both fascinated and haunted, seemed to absorb every word. It wasn't just his story that intrigued her, but the possibility that the universe she knew was merely a fragment of something much larger — and she was standing before a portal to that vast and unsettling unknown.
On the Road to Galway Valley…
General Hunter drove in silence, casting quick glances at Benjamin beside him. He knew his friend's mind was as restless as the wind shaking the trees along the road. Damián had refused to see his father before, and Hunter feared that this encounter might be more painful than either could foresee.
Benjamin took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as a memory of Damián's childhood hit him like a wave of warmth and longing. He saw himself in their backyard, tossing his son into the air and hearing the joyful laughter filling the air. *"Higher, Dad!"* Damián would shout, his face lit up with pure, contagious joy. Damián's laughter echoed in his mind, and Benjamin felt the weight of years without that sound, years in which his son's innocence was erased by the harshness of an unforgiving world.
Just a few miles from the mansion, Hunter broke the silence, his voice low but cautious. "Benjamin, you have to go easy on him. He thinks he was left behind, that he lost his way in the world alone. For him, coming back means facing a fear that no one should have to face. This reunion… it's about a tragedy, but it's also the only chance to set things right."
Benjamin opened his eyes and looked at the road ahead, trying to stifle the pain consuming him. His voice came out steady, but his eyes revealed a flicker of vulnerability. "Hunter, I have to see my son today, no matter what. I need to bring him home, to hold him as I did when he was a child. I need to feel like I can finally put this nightmare behind me and find peace. I want to see those eyes… the eyes that once loved to hear the simple promises that made him laugh."
Hunter nodded, his face serious but understanding. He noticed that Benjamin's hands trembled slightly on his thighs, a reflection of his anxiety and fear that this meeting might not be what he hoped. "But don't forget, Ben. Damián is no longer that boy. What he has to say might not be easy to hear."
Benjamin looked out the window, watching the blurred landscape pass by, and murmured, more to himself than to Hunter, "Today, I just need him to say something… anything. He's alive; he exists. Even if he accuses me, if he tells me everything I did was wrong… I need him here, however he is. I want my son at home, happy, sad, angry, Hunter. Anything, as long as he's with me."
The Kadman Mansion appeared in the distance, and Hunter saw that Benjamin's expression had changed. Determination now mingled with a melancholy courage. For Benjamin, excuses and explanations no longer mattered; he was willing to face the pain and rejection if necessary. All he wanted was to hear his son's voice, to look into his eyes once more, and, in that, find a piece of peace that seemed to have eluded him for so long.
Benjamin's car climbed the long drive to the Kadman Mansion, flanked by carefully tended gardens that seemed to stretch to the horizon, where misty hills rose. The gentle sound of tires on gravel punctuated the stillness of the place. The weight of years of silence and unanswered questions tightened Benjamin's chest as he looked up at the mansion's imposing windows. The air, cool and heavy, mirrored the blend of hope and fear that had followed him all the way there.
As the mansion's doors finally opened, *Malcolm Kadman* appeared at the entrance. His serene posture and a slight smile of welcome offered Benjamin a hint of familiarity.
*Malcolm*: "Benjamin Williams! What an honor!" he said, extending a cordial hand. "What a happy coincidence… Adam and Damián are together. It seems the universe is conspiring in your favor."
*Benjamin*: "I hope so, Malcolm. Thank you for receiving me…"
As Malcolm led Benjamin through the hallway, outside *Taylor May* appeared in the garden accompanied by her brother, *Gunnar*. Her silhouette was delicate, and she walked cautiously, still recovering but determined to enjoy the fresh air. When she noticed unusual movement, she stopped and called to a passing servant.
*Taylor*: "Is there a visitor?"
*Servant*: "Yes, Miss. Mr. Benjamin Williams has arrived."
Taylor exchanged a meaningful look with Gunnar, who gently squeezed her arm in support before they resumed their walk. There was something in the air — a silent expectation.
In the painting studio, a soft light streamed through the high windows, spilling over the paints, canvases, and meticulously arranged brushes. *Damián* stood before a blank canvas, a solitary figure among colors and possibilities yet to be realized. The colors around him felt empty, meaningless. The silent beauty of the studio only amplified the emptiness he felt within.
A memory of one of his early missions surfaced in his mind — the task was to eliminate a drug lord and sink his yacht. Though prepared for everything, when the yacht finally sank, he found himself alone, abandoned in the dark sea. It was as if the ocean had swallowed him in silence. He floated, surrounded only by the vast, cold expanse and the muffled sound of his own breath. In the end, all that remained was hunger — physical and emotional. Strangely, he had survived; somehow, he always did.
Now, he saw himself as a fisherman of illusions, surrounded by a family that didn't belong to him, living on the surface of a book whose pages he had never read.
He thought of *Janine*, his sister. He couldn't escape the guilt of never having been a true brother to her. Likewise, he had never said the right words, never shown her how much she mattered. So much dust lay hidden in the corners of his life… Furthermore, he wondered if any of it made sense anymore. But it wasn't about Benjamin — it was about himself, realizing just how fragmented he had become.
Lady Elizabeth entered with careful steps, watching him in silence as he stared at the blank canvas before him.
*Elizabeth*: "Your father is here, Damián."