Ezra had spent weeks trying to forget what he had seen. It was just a dream, right? Dreams weren’t supposed to stick with you this long. They weren’t supposed to haunt you in waking life, weren’t supposed to crawl under your skin like a splinter you couldn’t pull out.

  But this one had.

  Because normal dreams didn’t have distress signals embedded into the fabric of their reality. Normal dreams didn’t coat your hands in golden dust when you woke up. Ezra knew he couldn’t tell anyone. Not Julie. Not his professors. Not even Bruiser, who would probably crack some joke about Ezra finally losing his mind to the White-Coats’ madness.

  So, he kept it locked away, stuffing it deep down into that corner of his mind where all the unspoken things lived. But the dream followed him. It clung to him on the train ride to Italy, crept up on him as he watched the ndscapes blur past, lingered in his thoughts even as he tried to focus on the joy of going home for Quarantinemas.

  For the first time in a long time, Ezra felt like he was standing at the edge of something huge. Something he didn’t understand yet. Something that terrified him.

  And then—He saw her.

  And just like that, the weight of his thoughts disappeared.

  She was waiting at the station, standing on the old stone ptform, wrapped in a thick winter coat, her scarf pulled up over her nose to shield against the biting cold. But it wasn’t the coat or the scarf that Ezra noticed first.

  It was her belly. Big. Round. A perfect, undeniable reminder of the life they had created together. Ezra forgot the cold, forgot the train, forgot everything but her, striding forward faster than he meant to, closing the distance in just a few steps before she could even say his name.

  Julie barely had time to ugh before he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her shoulder, holding her as if she might slip away from him if he didn’t. She smelled like home, like vender and something soft, warm, familiar. "You’re squishing me," she murmured against him, but she didn’t pull away.

  Ezra huffed out a ugh, loosening his grip just a little. "Sorry. Just… missed you."

  Julie pulled back slightly, her blue eyes searching his face, and for a second—just a second—he worried that she might see through him. That she might see the way his thoughts were knotted together, the way his mind had been chewing on something far too big for him to process alone.

  But she just smiled, soft and teasing. "I missed you too, dummy."

  Ezra let out a slow breath, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, before resting his hand gently over her stomach.

  "How’s our little terror doing?" he asked, grinning.

  Julie rolled her eyes. "She kicks like she’s trying to break out of prison."

  Ezra chuckled, rubbing slow circles over her belly, marveling at the fact that she was real, that their baby was real, that this life they were building was real. "You sure it’s a girl?" he murmured.

  Julie smirked. "I’m never wrong."

  Ezra pretended to look skeptical, but in truth? He didn’t care either way. She was his. They were his. And in this moment, standing in the cold, surrounded by the hum of the train station, the nightmare didn’t matter.

  The White-Coats didn’t matter. Nothing did. Just this.

  Just her.

  Seth and Ciarra had gotten married in the fall, and the vil felt different because of it. Not in a bad way. Just… fuller. The air smelled like fresh-baked bread and rosemary, the warmth of the firepce crackled in the background, and for the first time in years, Seth looked at peace.

  Ezra had never thought he’d see his father in love again, not after losing Mom, not after watching him bury himself in work for years to escape it. But now, as he watched Seth ugh over dinner, teasing Julie about something, his arm resting easily around Ciarra’s chair, Ezra realized—

  This was good. This was right.

  Ciarra had fit herself into their lives so naturally, as if she had always been meant to be here. And—somehow—she knew everything about being a midwife. Ezra wasn’t sure when he learned that detail, but apparently, Ciarra had medical experience she had never once mentioned before.

  Self-taught, or so she said.

  Julie had taken to her immediately, and Seth was more than happy to let her handle all the logistics of Julie’s pregnancy. Ciarra pyed the part of gentle caretaker, wise beyond her years, seamlessly slipping into the role of supporting mother figure.

  But Ezra?

  Ezra wasn’t sure what to make of it. Because if there was one thing he had learned about Ciarra since she entered their lives—It was that she always told just enough of the truth to make you believe it.

  Ezra sat on the terrace after dinner, watching the lights of the small town twinkle against the dark horizon. Ciarra joined him a few minutes ter, carrying two cups of tea, setting one in front of him without a word before settling into the chair beside him.

  He gnced at her, then at the tea, then back at her. "You just knew I’d be out here sulking, huh?" he muttered, taking the cup anyway.

  Ciarra smiled. "You have your father’s face when something is eating at you. It’s impossible to S"Julie looks happy," she said after a moment.

  Ezra nodded. "Yeah. She is."

  Ciarra tilted her head, studying him. "And you?"

  Ezra hesitated. He should be happy. But instead, he thought about the dream. The city inside a pnet, the pulsing star, the SOS that shouldn’t have been there. He thought about the figure in bck. The way it had warned him. The way it had made sure he wouldn’t remember too much.

  Ezra forced himself to smile, looking away. "Yeah," he said, voice quieter now. "I am."

  Ciarra didn’t believe him. He could tell by the way she watched him, like she was reading him far too easily. But instead of pressing him on it, she just exhaled softly, staring out at the stars. "Good," she murmured.

  Ezra clenched his jaw. Because he knew—That conversation wasn’t over.

  At the end of Quarantinemas, the vil was quiet, save for the distant hum of wind rolling across the hills. The night sky stretched above, vast and endless, the stars shimmering like fragments of something long forgotten. Ezra stood on the terrace, arms crossed, the worn leather history book tucked beneath one arm.

  The dream still gnawed at him.

  The star pulsing in Morse code. The golden city folding in on itself. The silent angels, the ensved demons, the figure in bck watching him from the shadows. It had felt real.

  It had lingered in his mind far longer than any dream should. And now, as he stood beneath a perfectly normal sky, he couldn’t help but wonder—Was it really just a dream?

  A soft sound of footsteps made him gnce toward the doorway. Ciarra.

  She carried two cups of tea, her posture rexed, but her gaze sharp, reading him like she always did. Without a word, she set one cup down beside him before leaning against the terrace railing, watching the sky. "Thought you’d be out here," she murmured.

  Ezra gave her a side gnce, taking the tea but saying nothing at first.

  Ciarra sighed, shaking her head with a knowing smile. "That history book," she nodded at the worn leather tome under his arm, "must be something special if it’s keeping you up like this."

  Ezra stiffened slightly. She knew. Or at least, she knew something.

  Ezra let out a slow breath, fingers tapping against the spine of the book. "It’s nonsense," he admitted. "Just a bunch of gibberish written by people who invested way too much time rewriting history into fairy tales."

  "Mm," Ciarra hummed, taking a sip of her tea. "And yet… you haven’t put it down."

  Ezra hesitated. The wind rustled through the trees. And before he could stop himself, before he could lock it away again, he spoke. "I saw something."

  Ciarra didn’t react right away. She simply kept her gaze on the stars, as if she had expected this moment to come.

  Ezra swallowed, shifting his stance. "It was a dream, I think. But it wasn’t. It felt too real. The sky—there was a star inside it, and it was sending a distress signal."

  Ciarra stayed quiet, listening.

  Ezra exhaled sharply. "And the city—god, Ciarra, the city—it was filled with these perfect angel-like beings, but they weren’t human. They were too… still. Too… synchronized. They were like cogs in a machine."

  Ciarra sipped her tea. "And?"

  Ezra’s grip tightened around the book. "And they were ensving something else. Something dark. Like demons. They were using them. Feeding off of them." The words hung heavy in the air. Ezra looked at her, watching for a reaction. And for just a second—just a second—he saw it.

  A flicker of something knowing, something deep, something Ezra couldn’t pce. Then, it was gone. Ciarra exhaled, setting her cup down. "Sounds like another trial from the White-Coats."

  Ezra frowned. "Oh, so you know about them?"

  Ciarra smirked. And then, to his horror, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a White Card. Not just any White Card. One unlike any Ezra had seen before. It had no name, no identification, no markings, except for a single golden emblem in the center.

  Ezra stared at it, his pulse kicking up. "Jesus Christ, who doesn’t have one of those?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

  Ciarra chuckled. "Mine isn’t special," she said casually, slipping it back into her pocket. "I inherited it."

  Ezra squinted. "That’s not suspicious at all."

  Ciarra raised an eyebrow, smiling over her cup. "Rex, Ezra. The White-Coats are harmless."

  Ezra gave a short, humorless ugh. "Yeah? What about the shadow thing I saw? That didn’t seem harmless."

  Ciarra finally turned her full attention to him. "Now that’s the juicy bit," she admitted. "A secret society built on memes and rewritten history? Boring. But a real shadow force lurking just beyond the nonsense? That’s interesting."

  Ezra crossed his arms. "So you’re saying this is more than just White-Coat craziness?"

  Ciarra smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She reached out and tapped the history book Ezra still held. "If you’re looking for answers," she said, "you won’t find them in that almanac of gibberish."

  Ezra frowned, looking down at the book. "Then where?"

  Ciarra tilted her head. "Maybe the real trick is not pying the game."

  Ezra blinked. "What?"

  She shrugged. "You want to explore the unknown, right? Maybe the best way to win is to py dumb. Lean into the flow, not against it."

  Ezra stared at her, processing her words. They made no damn sense. And yet—Somehow, they did. Because if there was one thing he had learned at White-Coat University, it was that the people who pyed along the best were the ones who got the farthest.

  Maybe that was the key. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to resist it. Maybe he was supposed to let it pull him deeper.

  Ezra didn’t like the weight in his chest, didn’t like the way his own thoughts were starting to feel like someone else’s puzzle. So he changed the subject. He leaned against the railing, watching the stars. "I’m not gonna be here when my son is born." Ciarra’s expression softened. Ezra exhaled. "I hate that I have to go back. I should be here. With Julie. But the White-Coats… this damn university…" He ran a hand through his hair. "It’s not done with me yet."

  Ciarra nodded. "No, it’s not."

  Ezra turned to her. "I need you to look after them."

  Ciarra smiled faintly, reaching out and squeezing his hand. "You didn’t even have to ask."

  Ezra let out a slow breath. "Thanks."

  Ciarra tilted her head. "Just promise me one thing in return."

  Ezra raised an eyebrow. "What?"

  "Don’t get too lost out there."

  Ezra’s chest tightened. Because somehow, she knew. She knew that he was already losing himself to this madness, that he was already standing on the edge of something too deep to climb out of. But he forced a grin, covering up the unease with humor like he always did. "Can’t make any promises."

  Ciarra ughed softly. "Didn’t think so."

  And as the night stretched on, as the stars whispered their silent warnings above, Ezra felt something settle inside him. Something that told him this was just the beginning.