While Ethan hummed a silly, off-key song about stars, the heart monitor suddenly changed. A small spike. A shift.
“Did you see that?” Ethan asked.
Daniel rushed closer. “It… it could be a glitch.”
“No,” Ethan said calmly. “She heard me. She liked the story.”
Days later, Dr. Harris, a neurologist who trusted only data, reviewed the results.
“There’s brain activity,” he said slowly. “Small variations. It’s like… something emotional is reaching her. But medically, it doesn’t make sense.”
Daniel looked at Ethan, who was sitting nearby drawing quietly. Maybe it didn’t make medical sense. Maybe it didn’t have to.
But life had one more test waiting.
That afternoon, the sky darkened suddenly. The air felt heavy, charged. Ethan stopped drawing and looked at Lily with unusual focus. Daniel felt it too—a quiet dread, like something was about to change.
The storm hit hard, rain crashing against the windows.
Inside, everything was still.
Ethan stood and leaned close to Lily.
“Lily,” he whispered urgently, “the castle is open. You have to run now. Don’t be scared. I’m waiting for you. Your dad is waiting too.”
Daniel stepped forward, alarmed. The monitor began racing.