Warm, golden light spilled across the wide wooden planks, making the farmhouse look deceptively peaceful, despite the wreckage hidden within its walls. Rocking chairs and wicker furniture were arranged invitingly. Pastries and coffee cups were laid out on a small table.

  The peaceful sounds of the countryside drifted on the gentle breeze, leaves rustling in the light wind. From somewhere distant, the faint lowing of farm animals carried on the air.

  Olt walked out onto the porch, a steaming mug of coffee warming his hands. He looked noticeably better than the night before, though a pallor still clung to his skin. He moved with a slight stiffness, a subtle hitch in his stride, but the visible agony was gone. He carried himself with a thoughtful air. He was a little withdrawn.

  Mariah, Rebecca, and Cristina were already seated, arranged in a loose semi-circle on the porch. Their postures were relaxed, almost casual, but their faces still held a bit of watchfulness.

  Olt settled into an empty rocking chair, the worn wood creaking gently beneath his weight. He sighed, a small sound of contentment, and began to rock slowly. The rhythmic motion brought him comfort. He inhaled deeply, the fresh morning air filling his lungs.

  The farmhouse door swung open, and Hannah emerged, carrying a baking sheet laden with golden brown pastries. The rich, yeasty aroma of warm sweet cornbread wafted across the porch.

  Hannah beamed, a smile that felt a little too forced.

  “Alright, ladies! Would anyone like some more?”

  The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was a nervous energy about her.

  Cristina watched her mom closely.

  She’s still wound tight. Letting her relax might be worse right now. Keeping busy is probably good for her.

  “Oh, they smell amazing, mom!” She glanced at Olt, offering a warm, reassuring smile. “I’m sure we’ll all be hungry later, and Olt especially.”

  Hannah nodded, visibly pleased to have a task.

  “Alright then! I'll just pop back in and start prepping for dinner.”

  She turned and headed back inside, her movements a little quicker.

  Cristina watched her go, a small, almost imperceptible frown creasing her brow. Rebecca and Mariah exchanged a quick, knowing glance.

  Silence settled on the porch once more. Olt took a sip of his coffee, the dark liquid steaming in the morning air. His view drifted towards the road in front of the farmhouse. He was lost in thought.

  In the distance, a low rumble grew into the distinct sound of motorcycles. A group of them appeared on the road, approaching the farmhouse. Local riders, not menacing, just locals passing by on a sunny morning. As they drew nearer, the riders waved a friendly greeting towards the porch – a casual, ingrained rural custom. Olt automatically raised his hand and waved back. It was a reflexive action. The motorcycles roared past, their engines fading into the distance.

  Olt’s expression darkened slightly. He became distant, inward.

  That thing… in the mirror. It felt so real. Too real for a nightmare. The cold, the voice… Just a dream, it has to be.

  He shivered slightly, despite the warm sunlight, rubbing his arms.

  Mariah’s gentle voice broke his thoughts.

  “Did you manage to get some rest, Olt? You were out for a while last night.”

  Olt snapped back to the present, blinking slightly. He looked at Mariah with a small, grateful smile touching his lips.

  “Yeah, I did. Actually slept pretty well, surprisingly.”

  He took another sip of coffee. He shifted to Mariah and then Rebecca.

  “Thank you both, for everything. For coming out here and helping.”

  Mariah smiled, reassuringly.

  “We're just glad you made it through, Olt. Last night… that must have been a lot.”

  Olt nodded slowly, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

  “Yeah, that’s an understatement. Glad we’re all still standing, at least.”

  He took another, longer sip of his coffee.

  Mariah, Rebecca, and Cristina exchanged quick, almost imperceptible glances. Unspoken communication passed between them.

  Should we ask him now? Is it too soon? Let him relax a little longer?

  Olt broke the silence again, unexpectedly. His voice was quiet but thoughtful.

  “It all happened so fast, didn’t it?”

  Rebecca’s eyes were distant.

  Hadic, it’s the obvious answer. But Jeffrey’s right. Why target them? They were never truly in Oliver’s inner circle. And Alonso, acting on his own? But why attack me then? It’s all… disjointed. Doesn’t quite fit.

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  Rebecca shook her head slightly, frustrated.

  Mariah shifted and replied to Olt’s statement A question formed on her lips.

  “Olt, about last night—”

  Rebecca leaned forward slightly, cutting Mariah off, her focus snapping to Olt.

  “Olt, the woman who attacked you… did you recognize her? Did anything about her seem… familiar? Anything at all unusual?”

  All three women turned their attention fully to Olt. Their expressions were expectant, and a little tense.

  Cristina added detail, prompting Olt's memory.

  “She was a redhead, right? That’s what I saw. Red hair, dark clothes…anything else stand out?”

  Olt thought, trying to recall details from the chaotic fight.

  “Red hair, yeah, that's right. No, I don’t think I've ever seen her before. Not that I remember.”

  He continued, trying to be helpful.

  “She seemed young. Early twenties, maybe? Close to my age, I guess. Hard to tell in the dark.”

  Olt drifted away, becoming distant again.

  The creature. No. Focus on the woman. Red hair. Young. Normal. Almost normal… except…

  He rubbed the side of his neck unconsciously, near his ear.

  “There was something on her neck. By her ear.”

  Olt’s voice was thoughtful, a detail surfacing in his memory.

  “A patch of skin. It looked weird, discolored. Almost… moldy?”

  Rebecca, Mariah, and Cristina exchanged glances again. This detail was new, potentially significant.

  Rebecca leaned forward, interrupting Olt’s thoughts again, her analytical mind working rapidly.

  “And how did you make her leave, Olt? You said she fled, right? What happened right before she ran off?”

  Olt struggled to recall the chaotic final moments of the fight, pushing back the more terrifying images from his mind.

  “She just stopped.” He spoke hesitantly, piecing together the memory. “She looked confused. Like… like she didn’t know where she was, or what she was doing. She grabbed her head like it hurt. And then… then she just ran.”

  Olt gestured vaguely towards the farmhouse behind them, towards the broken window in the living room.

  The last thing I really remember seeing clearly. That and…

  In his mind's eye, Olt saw a fleeting image: himself and the red-haired woman tangled on the living room floor. He saw her step forward, looming over him. Then, a detail surfaced. A string of red hair had fallen loose, brushing against her cheek.

  Her hair… that string of hair…

  Fragmented images flashed in his mind – snippets of news reports glimpsed on dusty television screens.

  SOUTH BONAO KILLER STRIKES AGAIN, RED-HAIRED SUSPECT SOUGHT. SERIAL KILLER TERRORIZES AVENUE 3.

  Olt gasped, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. His eyes widened.

  “The serial killer that’s been in the news… in South Bonao! The one they’ve been talking about!”

  His voice was louder now, agitated.

  Cristina reacted with immediate panic, hissing a sharp warning.

  “Olt! Lower your voice!”

  She glanced around nervously, a haunted look in her eyes.

  “Serial killer? Oh god, Olt, don’t even say that! That just makes it… worse.”

  Rebecca leaned forward.

  “Olt, you might be onto something.”

  Thoughtfully, she considered the implications.

  “But… from South Bonao to Hooma? Why would a serial killer come all the way out here?”

  Mariah added her perspective.

  “There isn't usually logic to people who just like to inflict violence, Rebecca.” She elaborated, referencing the grim headlines. “From the reports that have been coming out, it seems like random, cruel violence. And usually women.”

  Cristina interjected, a nervous tremor in her voice.

  “I was the first one she went for!”

  The memory of the attack was still raw.

  Rebecca thought aloud, considering the inconsistencies.

  “It would be strange for that serial killer to be a woman. Everything they’ve said points to a man, right?”

  She paused, then snapped back to Olt’s experience, connecting the dots.

  “But, Olt also said she acted strange, confused, grabbing her head.”

  Turning directly to Olt, she pressed him.

  “Olt, was there something that led to her strange behavior? Anything you did?

  Olt hesitated, looking down. He shifted in his rocking chair, the wood creaking softly. Quietly, he confessed.

  “Yeah, there was something strange. But I don’t know how to explain it.”

  Mariah leaned forward, her voice soft but direct.

  “Olt, it’s okay. We know about the Aether. Did you take the potion?”

  “No, how would I?” Olt insisted.

  Mariah tried to downplay Olt's experience, her voice calm and rational.

  "It must have been some cosmic fluke. It's the only rational explanation."

  Rebecca stood abruptly from her rocking chair, ignoring Mariah.

  “Olt, summon the Aether!”

  Olt looked confused, taken aback by Rebecca's directness.

  “What? I don't know how.”

  Mariah nodded, agreeing with Olt, ever practical.

  “Rebecca, even if he could, he's in no condition to do so right now.”

  Rebecca ignored Mariah’s statement, pressing Olt.

  “Go on, Olt. Summon the power. Show us!”

  Cristina sat quietly, observing the interaction with a worried expression.

  Olt’s voice rose slightly, frustrated and confused.

  “Rebecca, I said, I don't know how!”

  Rebecca remained silent for a moment, then conceded, her tone shifting.

  “Mariah must be right then. It must be some type of… divine intervention.”

  Mariah sighed, reinforcing her point.

  “Olt, if you had access to the Aether, you would just know how to summon it. It works like an instinct. Like an itch you have to scratch.”

  Olt stood up from his rocking chair, placing his coffee cup on the edge of the porch with a slightly forceful motion. He turned to Mariah seeking clarification.

  “Then explain this. How would I have healed so quickly, if I can’t use the Aether?”

  “You did have access to it, Olt,” Mariah explained. “At least, for that moment. It was still in your… cells. Just enough of it, dormant maybe, for my powers to work. Thank God you did, because I was only able to use it for a minute.”

  Olt looked shocked, thinking aloud, processing Mariah's words.

  A minute? Just a minute? That frightful experience, that creature… none of that could have been just a minute.

  A low rumble in the distance interrupted his thoughts. The rumble became distinct. It was Jeffrey’s pickup truck approaching. The battered vehicle pulled into view on the road, approaching the farmhouse. On the passenger seat, sat Ganjo.