Daniel
The morning rose in a heavy silence, the sun’s rays filtering through the curtains, lighting up the room with a golden, almost unreal light. I got up, a little more exhausted than usual, but I couldn’t escape the restlessness that reigned in my mind. I had spent the night turning Claire’s words over and over in my head. Her words had rooted themselves in me, and each reflection, each moment spent contemplating them, seemed more blurred than ever.
My mission, my quest for justice, had always been my compass. But that compass was now broken. Claire had become an anchor, a reference point that disturbed the established order of my convictions.
I walked over to the window and looked out at the city slowly waking up, the sounds of daily life gradually taking their place. Everything seemed normal, but inside me, everything had changed. I had dealt with difficult investigations, violent crimes, unsolvable mysteries. But nothing had ever prepared me for what I felt for Claire. I had never imagined that a simple suspect could shake my existence to this extent.
I grabbed my coat, determined to resume the investigation. The truth had to prevail. It was the only thing that mattered. But with each step, I knew that the closer I got to Claire, the further I moved away from that truth.
A few hours later, I found myself in my office, looking at the photos of the murder. Each image seemed to take on new meaning. There was a connection that I couldn’t grasp. My thoughts drifted again to Claire. Her gestures, her glances, her attitude… She wasn’t a criminal. I was sure of it, but that wasn’t enough to clear her.
A familiar voice broke my inner turmoil. "You seem lost, Daniel."
It was James, my partner. He sat down across from me, his scrutinizing gaze fixed on me. "I’ve seen you struggle with a case before, but this is starting to get concerning."
I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. "I’m at an impasse, James. This case… it’s beyond me."
"It’s Claire, isn’t it?" James shot me a penetrating look, as if he could see right through me.
I sat up abruptly. "What do you mean by that?"
James raised an eyebrow, amused but concerned. "I’ve seen you interrogate witnesses, analyze evidence, and never have I seen you so… affected. She’s a suspect, Daniel, not a special case."
I didn’t dare to respond. How could I explain to James that Claire wasn’t like the other suspects? How could I tell him that my heart was beating to the rhythm of my growing love for her, but my mind screamed that I had to lock her behind bars, if the evidence demanded it?
James sighed. "I’m not going to tell you what to do. But know this, you have two choices. Either you follow your instinct and listen to your heart, or you follow the rules and do what’s right. But the two can’t coexist, Daniel."
Those words struck me like a guillotine. I stood up suddenly, my gaze fixed on the investigation board in front of me. The photos, the evidence, the clues… but nothing satisfied me. There was one element missing, a detail my heart told me not to ignore, and that was Claire.
My partner looked at me, worried. "It’s a choice you’ll have to make on your own. But there’s no turning back."
I walked away from the desk, my mind in turmoil. I knew things were getting more and more complicated. The truth I was searching for, the one that would justify my actions, was becoming increasingly blurred. And Claire… Claire, with her mysteries, her silences, and her velvet gaze, wasn’t making anything easier.
As I was about to leave my office, a phone call interrupted my thoughts. I quickly picked up the receiver, hoping it was a lead that would pull me out of this abyss of confusion.
"Daniel, there’s something you need to see." The voice of my superior, Captain Henderson, was tense. "We’ve found evidence that could turn the investigation around."
My heart tightened. A new piece of evidence. But, and Claire? What would I do if this evidence pointed in her direction, but at the same time condemned her?
I turned to James, who was watching me with a melancholic expression. "Do you want me to come with you?"
I shook my head. "No. I have to do this alone."
I had no choice anymore. The truth would call me. But now I had to prepare myself to face the greatest battle of my life. Between the love I felt for Claire and my duty as a policeman, I would have to choose.
That choice… I wasn’t ready to make it yet, but the truth would force me to act.
One year laterIsadoraThe sea is calm today.I watch it from the high cliff, arms crossed in the salty wind. Below, the waves crash against the rocks with an almost reassuring constancy. Like an ancient heartbeat, unchanging. The world has changed, they say. But the sea remains.This is where I came to retreat after the fall of the Council. After the confessions, the judgments, the outbursts, and the decisions torn from fear. I did not flee. I simply chose silence after the war of truths. I was offered to stay, to take part in the reconstruction. I said no. I chose the cliff, the sea, the wind. I chose absence.The home where I now live is nothing like a mansion. An old white house, covered in ivy, clinging to the rock like a promise of resistance. It creaks sometimes at night, as if remembering past storms. I have learned to live without noise. To breathe without expecting the next explosion. To walk without fear behind me.But sometimes, in the silence, I see their faces again.Esp
IsadoraThe manor seems to breathe with me. Every step I take stirs up ancient dust, a repressed memory. The walls whisper. The portraits watch us. The floorboards groan as if they know that tonight, something is going to break.Helena walks to my left, her hands clenched around her gloves. Sofia follows me without a word. We are three women that the Empire would have wanted to silence. Three specters who refuse to be forgotten. Three beating hearts in a room full of ghosts.I move towards the grand gallery. Where it all began. Where decisions were made in the comfort of embroidered chairs, while the world bled. Where politics had lost all humanity. Only numbers remained. Acceptable losses. Imposed silences.— Are you sure? whispers Helena.I nod my head slowly. My fingers barely tremble.— They must hear. They must see. It’s not a question of choice. It’s a necessity.A necessity that burns inside me. I haven’t slept in three nights. Not really. I relive the scene over and over. The
IsadoraI cross the hall like a fallen heiress claiming what is due to her. Every painting recognizes me. Every dusty curtain trembles at my passing. I feel the stares. The whispers. The incredulity. I am the dead who returns. And I have come to seek my bones.The steps beneath my feet creak as if they want to stop me. But nothing will stop me. Neither the memories. Nor the pain. Nor him. I am more than what they tried to bury.Gabriel leads the way without looking back. He can no longer walk in front of me like a leader. He no longer has that right. He knows it. He is just a man. Worn. Silent. Guilty. And I have come to demand the verdict.The entire house seems to hold its breath. The walls know. They remember the muffled screams. The shouted orders. The betrayed promises.I let my fingers glide against the walls, up to this room. The dining room. How many times have I dreamed of returning here, not as a survivor, but as a witness? A witness to wh
GabrielI descend the manor stairs as one leaves a tomb. Each step creaks beneath my feet, as if the house itself protests my return. The corridors smell of dust, of endings, of memories. The walls are heavy with silence, the portraits stare at me like judges. But outside… Outside, there is something else.The wind is sharper. The air heavier. As if it carries a message that no one dares to read. Something has changed. Or maybe it is me. Perhaps it is this mourning that I still bear in silence. The one I buried with my orders and my silences.They are here. My men. Aligned like at a funeral. Silent. Frozen. Caps in hand. Eyes fixed to the ground. Soldiers without a war. Men without a leader. Or perhaps a leader without a soul.No one speaks. But I feel it. The whisper. The announcement. Something is coming. Or returning.— Sir, Matteo finally says, the oldest among them. He has seen death. He has dug graves. He has never faltered. But here, he hesitates. His voice trembles. As if he h
GabrielThe mansion is a tomb.Each room breathes the memory of an intimate war.I walk among the ruins, and my steps resonate like those of a ghost.The marble is cracked.The chandelier hangs askew, like a suspended corpse.The paintings are torn.Faceless, eyeless. Mouths frozen in a silent scream.The men no longer speak to me. They avoid me.They pass by without lifting their eyes.They may still obey me.But it is no longer loyalty.It is fear.Or shame.I climb the stairs.The steps creak under my weight, as if the house itself wants to push me away.Dried blood still clings to the walls.There is a streak, thin, almost erased, but I see it.I always see it.It is here that she screamed.Here that my hand closed too tightly around her arm.Here that I saw in her eyes something sharper than hatred.The end.I stop in front of the room she o
Daniel The smell of blood seeps into my nostrils. Not mine. The others'. The one I made flow.I am on my knees. My hands are red. My eyes are empty. She is gone. And it’s my fault.The silence around me is deafening. Not a breath. Not a step. Only the echo of my mistakes, beating against my temples like war drums. I see her footsteps in the dust. Her eyes. That void in her eyes, as if I were nothing more than another monster in her story.I would have liked to scream. Call her. Go back. But my vocal cords are dead strings. My throat, a grave. It’s over. She saw me as I truly am. And I am not the man she hoped for.I reach out towards the farthest bloodstain. Maybe it’s hers. Maybe not. But it burns my fingers as if it were my own heart, shattered there on the ground, too late.Gabriel Somewhere in the manor, I scream. I don’t even know what I'm shouting. Orders. Names. Insults. Memories.My voice, shattered by rage and pain, vibrates the walls. The window