The Mustang's engine purred as Cyrus turned the key, letting it idle in front of the repair shop.
"She sounds better than ever," he grinned. "Maybe crashing her was the best thing I ever did."
Rai didn't smile, but his voice held a rare ease. "You'll never drive her again."
They both knew that was a lie, but Rai took the keys anyway. Cyrus tossed his bag into the backseat, then leaned on the hood.
"Alright. We're already out here. Take me to your second home—the one you treat like a ghost story."
Rai hesitated. The Mustang gleamed in the sunlight, as if waiting for its own answer.
"Fine," he said finally. "We'll take the long road."
They stopped for supplies on the edge of the city—beer, hot food, and cigarettes.
Cyrus, already grabbing his usual, glanced sideways when Rai set a red box beside it on the counter.
"You? Since when?"
Rai didn't answer.
Just paid.
The drive to Rai's second house wound through trees and faded roads. The house itself stood silent against the edge of the woods—modern, open, uninviting to the outside world.
Cyrus stepped out, beer in one hand, and took it in.
"This looks like somewhere an assassin retires after faking his death."
"Close," Rai said, unlocking the door. "My dad built it. Said the city was too loud to think."
They set their food down on the back deck. Wind passed slowly through the pines. The silence didn't feel heavy—it felt honest.
Cyrus cracked a beer, lit a cigarette, and leaned back.
Then paused when Rai lit one too.
"Hold on. You actually smoke?"
"Sometimes."
"You don't seem the type."
"I'm not," Rai said. "But it's quiet when I breathe out. Just for a second. Like everything pauses."
Cyrus didn't laugh. Didn't push.
Instead, he nodded, lit another, and exhaled toward the sky.
"You ever come out here with anyone else?" Cyrus asked.
"No."
"Why me?"
Rai looked out at the trees.
"Because you don't fill silence just to kill it."
That earned a quiet grin. "I'll take that as a compliment."
They talked—softly. About fathers. About pressure. About what it meant to never know how to rest. Their words weren't heavy. But they mattered.
Then Rai's eyes flicked past the railing. Toward the tree line.
He went still.
Cyrus followed his gaze. "What is it?"
"I don't know. Something's been watching. For a while now."
Cyrus straightened slightly, scanning the forest.
Nothing.
"You sure?"
"No," Rai said. "But I've felt this before. Same feeling I had the night I saw the spiral move in my dream."
Cyrus didn't joke. For once, he respected the edge in Rai's voice.
The woods returned to stillness. Wind rustled through the branches. But nothing moved.
Still, Rai didn't relax.
He took another drag, hand slightly shaking.
"Professor Ishvar disappeared."
Cyrus blinked. "What?"
"I checked. No messages. No leave notice. Nobody's seen him in over a week."
"Think he left on purpose?"
"No," Rai said. "I think he stopped hiding something."
Before Cyrus could answer, Rai's phone buzzed on the table beside them.
Iris.
He picked it up. "Yeah?"
Her voice was tense. Focused.
"You need to come in. Now. I found something... and I don't know what language it's written in."
Rai stood slowly.
The spiral on his hand pulsed—just once.
The woods remained silent.
But Rai no longer believed they were empty.