Ezra came back physically fine, but his sanity had been shattered. His family greeted him with love, warmth, and celebration. Ezra? Ezra pyed along.

  Smiling. Laughing. Pretending. But Ciarra noticed. She always noticed. The way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking. The way his eyes darted toward the corners of the room, searching for shadows that weren’t there.

  The way his smile never quite reached his eyes. Something had happened. Something bad. And Ezra? He wasn’t talking about it.

  It was the middle of the holiday vacation when it happened. Ezra sat cradling Adam in his arms, the boy’s tiny body warm and heavy against his chest. Adam had fallen asleep, soft breaths tickling against Ezra’s shirt. Across from him, Ciarra curled up against Seth, resting against his chest, his arm zily draped around her. Julie was in the kitchen with Nonna, chatting as they prepared dinner.

  The air smelled of fresh bread and simmering herbs. For a moment, it felt almost normal. Julie called for him. "Ezra! Can you grab the—"

  Ezra shifted, careful not to jostle Adam as he got up. He started toward the kitchen. Then—Pain.

  A sudden migraine tore through his skull, so violent, so immediate, he stumbled mid-step. His vision blurred. The room tilted. His breath caught. His knees nearly buckled. Then—A hand.

  Soft, firm—gently pced on his shoulder. Ezra looked up. And his blood ran cold. Standing right before him— Mr. Shoece. Ezra’s body locked up, every nerve screaming. Mr. Shoece smiled softly, sympathetically. "You don’t have much time, kiddo," he murmured. "Hang in there—I’ll try to buy you some more."

  Ezra’s pulse pounded against his temples. "Wh—"

  Before he could fully process what was happening—Another sharp, blinding pain. Like something inside his skull was splitting apart. His vision fractured. His steps faltered. And then—He dropped Adam.

  A tiny, helpless body slipped from his arms. A sickening thump as the boy hit the floor backwards—His head striking hard.

  A shriek. Someone cried out—but Ezra couldn’t tell who. His body colpsed. His world faded. And then—Darkness.

  Ezra woke dazed, weightless, as if he were floating in a nightmare. His vision swam, but the world around him wasn’t darkness anymore. Soft sheets. The familiar scent of home. And beside him—Ciarra. Her presence was warm, her hands steady, tending to him with quiet care. The headaches were gone. But in their pce?

  Dread.

  A creeping, suffocating dread. The moment reality caught up, the weight of it crushed him. His mind snapped to the st thing he remembered. Adam. Adam slipping from his arms. Adam hitting the floor. His chest seized in panic. He sat up too fast, his breath sharp, eyes wide—"ADAM!!"

  Ciarra reached out instantly, pressing a gentle but firm hand against his chest. "Shhhhh," she whispered, her voice low, calming. "Julie’s taking care of it." The words barely registered. Ezra felt his heart hammering as he y back against the pillow, numb with shame.

  What had he done? The door burst open. Seth stood in the doorway, panting, worry pstered across his face. "Ezra! What the hell happened?!"

  Ezra opened his mouth—but before he could speak, Ciarra’s hand gripped his shoulder, firm. The same way Ezra had silenced Haru back in Japan. A silent message. Let her handle this. Ciarra turned to Seth, voice measured, steady. "It was just a sudden drop in blood pressure," she reassured him. "Made him faint. I’ve got it under control."

  Seth hesitated. His worry didn’t fade completely, but Ciarra was the medical professional here. He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead. "Alright," he muttered. "As long as you’ve got him…"

  Ezra said nothing. Couldn’t say anything. Seth’s gaze lingered, and then— "I’m going to check on Julie at the hospital," he finally said.

  And just like that—he was gone. The door clicked shut. And everything was quiet again. Ezra covered his face. And broke.

  He sobbed—loud, unrestrained, body-wracking sobs that tore through him like a flood. His body shook violently, unable to contain the sheer overwhelming grief. Ciarra rested a hand on his head, soft and comforting. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple, whispering: "These things happen."

  Ezra clenched his jaw, trying desperately to believe her. But there was no coming back from something like this. His son. His own son.

  Ciarra shooshed him, her fingers brushing through his hair, voice ced with gentle urgency. "Listen to me," she murmured. "These things happen. But Ezra… if you hold onto whatever’s causing this distress, it won’t end well for you." Her grip on him tightened slightly. "Please, Ezra," she whispered, "share with Auntie. What happened in Japan?"

  Ezra’s throat tightened. He couldn’t tell her everything. Didn’t even know where to begin. His breath hitched. His mind spun. "I don’t know!!" he choked out.

  Ciarra’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He buried his face in her chest, muffling his sobs against the only comfort he could find. She let him cry. Let him empty himself of the weight pressing on his soul. She didn’t rush him. Didn’t push.

  Only when his sobs quieted did she gently reach for the gss of water beside the bed, pressing it into his hands. "Start from the beginning," she said softly.

  Ezra’s fingers tightened around the gss. He stared down at the water, his breath shaky. Then—He broke. He told her everything. About the vision. About the cockpit. About the ship disintegrating before his eyes. About thousands of souls vanishing into nothing. About pulling up at the st possible second.

  His voice was hoarse by the time he finished. Silence filled the room. At first, Ezra thought Ciarra was just processing. Then—He noticed. Her petting had stopped. Ezra wiped his face, blinking up at her—And froze.

  Ciarra’s expression was vacant. Unfocused. Her gaze stared straight ahead, locked onto nothing—a thousand-yard stare. And her hands? They were trembling.

  Ezra waved a hand in front of Ciarra’s face. Nothing. Her breathing was steady, but her eyes—unfocused, locked onto nothing.

  "Ciarra," he said, shifting upright. "Hey. Hey, snap out of it." Nothing. Her hands trembled in her p, her body so eerily still otherwise. "Ciarra!"

  A flicker of movement—her pupils dited, her fingers twitched. Then—she inhaled sharply, gasping like she had been holding her breath. Her whole body jerked, her eyes finally snapping to him, wild and dazed, like she had just been wrenched from a nightmare.

  Ezra had seen shock before. And this? This was a full-blown trauma response.

  He reached for her hand, but she pulled away—not in fear, not in disgust—but like she was struggling to ground herself. Her chest rose and fell in deep, shaky breaths, her hand covering her mouth. Then—she did the only thing she could think to do. She hugged him.

  Tightly.

  Almost desperately. Ezra returned it without thinking. She was shaking. When she finally pulled back, she forced a ugh—but it was brittle, unnatural.

  "Wow," she murmured, brushing stray strands of hair behind her ear. "You really have gravitons on the brain, huh? This stuff’s messing with you, Ezra. Maybe—maybe it’s just all the exposure, y’know? Your neurons could be out of sync, maybe you just need a cleanse—"

  Ezra’s face darkened. "Ciarra," he muttered.

  "Maybe a few months off," she rushed on, her hands gripping each other now. "Yeah—yeah, that’s probably it. Just step away from the b for a bit, clear your head, purge the adverse effects—"

  "Ciarra."

  "Maybe we just need a little smoke sesh," she chuckled weakly. "You know, like before? You always get loopy, we could—"

  "ENOUGH WITH THE BULLSHIT!!"

  Ezra’s voice cracked through the room like a gunshot. Ciarra flinched. She stared at him, her mask shattering on the spot. Then, without a word, she stood. And she left.

  Ezra blinked, startled. "Ciarra?" She didn’t acknowledge him. She just kept walking. Right out the door. Into the cold.

  Ezra forced himself to his feet, his legs still weak, but functional. He followed.

  Ciarra sat on the bench in Nonna’s backyard, wrapped in her own arms, a peace pipe clutched between her fingers. Smoke curled in the air. Her hands were still shaking.

  She was crying. Ezra sighed. Without a word, he sat beside her. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him. Ezra exhaled, rubbing his face. "Hey," he muttered. "I shouldn’t have snapped."

  Ciarra sniffed, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve. She didn’t respond. Ezra sighed again.

  "It’s not just Japan," he admitted. "It’s not just the Silent Legion." He rubbed the white streak on his mustache, shaking his head. "There’s something more fucked up happening. And I have fuck-all no clue what it is."

  Ciarra finally gnced at him, but she still said nothing.

  Ezra’s voice lowered. "I’m running out of time," he muttered. "For what? No idea. But something bad is coming. I feel it in my gut. And I don’t even know what the hell I’m supposed to do."

  The pipe in Ciarra’s hands trembled. Then, softly—"Ezra…" Her voice was shaky, fragile, barely above a whisper. She took a deep, shaking breath. Then, finally—"What you saw… that was my greatest fuckup."

  Ezra stilled. She stared ahead, blinking rapidly, the tears in her eyes refusing to fall. Her chest hitched, and she took another deep drag, but it wasn’t enough to calm her nerves. "I…" she exhaled, shuddering. "I destroyed that ship."

  Ezra’s heart sank.

  "I killed them," she whispered. "I—I killed all of them." Her breath caught—a dry, strangled sob. Her whole body crumpled in on itself.

  Ezra didn’t think. Didn’t question it. He pulled her into a hug. She clung to him like her life depended on it. He rested a hand on her head, petting her softly. "Hey…" he murmured. "It’s not your fault."

  Ciarra let out a choked noise, her hands gripping onto him like an anchor.

  "These things happen," Ezra whispered.

  That was all it took. She finally broke. She sobbed into his chest, her entire body trembling violently. Ezra held her.

  Tightly.

  He didn’t know how she did it. Didn’t know when she did it. Didn’t know why the hell something like that wasn’t all over the Sornet. But in this moment? None of that mattered. Because right now? Right now, they both just needed a hug.

  And that? That was more than anything Ciarra could have ever hoped for.

  Ciarra’s sobs had finally slowed, her breathing coming in shaky, uneven gasps as she wiped her face against Ezra’s shirt. He just held her, fingers gently rubbing her back, giving her all the time she needed. Then—her voice, hoarse and raw, broke the silence. "You should go."

  Ezra frowned, tilting his head to look at her. "Go where?"

  Ciarra swallowed, her throat still thick with emotion. "St. Mary’s." She pulled back slightly, eyes still red and puffy. "Julie’s probably still there."

  Ezra stiffened. He had been so caught up in everything—Ciarra, the visions, the fallout—that he’d left Julie to deal with Adam alone. He exhaled through his nose, nodding.

  Ciarra gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, before turning her gaze back toward the snowy ndscape.

  Ezra didn’t hesitate. He left.

  St. Mary’s was too bright, too sterile, too fucking cold. The moment Ezra stepped inside, he spotted Julie. She was sitting in the waiting area, her hands clutching each other tightly, knuckles white. She was trembling.

  The second her eyes nded on Ezra, something in her snapped. She stood up fast, her whole body tense. Ezra had no expnation. No excuse.

  He fucked up.

  Julie’s breath hitched, her hands clenching into fists. She wanted to hit him. Wanted to scream, yell, throw every ounce of fear and frustration at him. But… Deep down?

  She knew. She knew it was an accident. Her lips trembled. Then—her shoulders colpsed, and she threw her arms around him. Ezra caught her immediately. She buried her face into his chest, her sobs muffled by his coat. He held her, eyes shutting tight.

  The doctor approached moments ter. Adam would live.

  But he would need checkups—monitoring for any unseen damage. There was no telling what the fall might have caused. Julie clung to Ezra even tighter. And for the first time in a long time—Ezra felt completely powerless.

  AnnouncementDear readers, my scribble hub story has finally caught up with my Royal Road postings. I shall now be posting 2 chapters per week. If you have time, and you've enjoyed the story thusfar, please leave a comment sharing what time of the day/week do you love reading! My story is still young, and I continue to experiment with strategies. I value your feeback tremendously ?