The silence was deafening.

Adina stood outside the door. She had been standing there for about ten minutes. Finally, she took a deep breath and slowly pulled the door open.

The air was warm, probably because it had just been cleaned. She stepped into the house. It was the first time in years. The house smelled of roses and cinnamon, not the usual smell of cigarette smoke from her adopted father.

Her chest tightened as she looked around. Everything was exactly the same, yet somehow it felt smaller. Like the house had shrunk, or maybe she had just grown bigger. Stronger.

She took another step. The wood creaked under her feet. She stepped slowly, as if the floor might collapse under her weight.

Her fingers brushed against the faded wallpaper as she walked down the narrow hall, past the old painting of Silver Lake that she wasn't allowed to touch.

The house held so many memories, most of which were not pleasant and a few that were okay. Still, she couldn't help but smile, tears clouding her eyes.

She should have waited for Thorne before coming, but once the maid told her they were done, she came instantly, wanting to see before anyone else could. After all, she never thought she would return to Crystal Moon, let alone be inside the very same house she grew up in.

Her feet took her to the storeroom that was the makeshift bedroom she was given. She pushed the door open slowly, and a lump rose in her throat. There was the flattened bed she had been given. The place was tiny, yet she had managed to squeeze her body into the space and sleep for the night.

Adina felt extremely sorry for her younger self. Back then, she spent hours wondering why she was treated differently from Catherine. Why her parents seemed to hate her... that was until Catherine called her a "cursed stray." Then, it dawned on her that she wasn't their daughter. She was a stray who had supposedly brought them bad luck, a stray they couldn't get rid of.

She shook her head, pushing those thoughts away. She stepped into the little room and crouched, staring at the wall where she used to carve letters at night. Most of it didn't make sense, but she did it anyway.

Adina stood up and slowly made her way out of the room. She took a turn, passed the kitchen, and then stopped outside the master bedroom.

Her adoptive parents' room.

That door had always been closed, locked most times. She had never been allowed to enter, not even once. One time, she mistakenly stepped inside and received the beating of her life. She didn't dare try it again.

She placed her hand on the doorknob, hesitated.

Then turned it.

The door creaked open, groaning like it hadn't been touched in ages. The room was dark, and she made her way to the window, pulling the curtains apart. She turned, her eyes scanning the room. The bed was perfectly made, the drawers still intact, and the shelves filled with old books.

Adina exhaled, her fingers twitching. It didn't feel right to be in here, already accustomed to never entering.

She began to walk, her fingers tracing everything in the room. From the cupboards to the drawers, to the vanity, to the bedstead. She could still see them in here.

She sat down on the bed, sighing softly, only to pause when she heard a creak from underneath her. Her brows furrowed, and she looked down to see a part of the wooden floor shift slightly under her weight. It had been a while since someone had stepped in the room, and some parts were weak.

She bent down to fix it, pressing it lightly, only to pause when she saw something peeking underneath the wood. Her brows furrowed harder, and she knelt down fully now, ripping out the wood.

Her breath hitched. Hidden in the floor was a small wooden box. Dust clung to its corners, the metal lock rusted and barely hanging on. She reached for it slowly, as if it might bite.

The moment her fingers brushed the surface, something in her chest tightened. Adina's throat tightened, and she slowly took out the box and placed it on the bed.

Why would her parents hide something underneath the floor? They weren't the types to keep secrets, at least not ones they couldn't scream at her. Since it was still here, she knew Catherine didn't know about it either.

She hesitated for a second, wondering if she should open it. After some minutes of staring at the box blankly, she finally made up her mind.

She twisted the lock, and it didn't take much to open, as it was already weak and rusted. The first thing she saw was fabric. An old, aged baby shawl made of cotton. It looked like it could be dated back to three decades ago, judging by how old it was. She took it out, noticing a stain on it. Blood. It was dried and stale on the shawl. Her fingers trembled as they held it up. It looked like someone had bled onto it.

Inside the box was also a golden crest, large enough to fit her palm perfectly, carved with something she couldn't recognize. It looked auspicious, like she shouldn't touch it, but something inside her pulled her to it.

Beside the crest was the back of a wooden tree. It looked like that part had been cut out just for this, and when Adina turned it over, a sharp gasp escaped her lips. There was something written on it, something written in blood. When she looked closer, a chill ran down her spine, and her face paled.

'Adina… Daughter of Vireyla of the South.'

She read it again and again. Her vision blurred, and her heart thudded against her ribs, louder with every passing second.

Her mother's name was Vireyla of the South.

A tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another, and another, each falling onto the bloodied shawl, soaking it.

Then suddenly, Adina gasped in pain, clutching her chest suddenly. Her head snapped up to the ceiling, and her eyes turned milky white.

Suddenly, it was as though she wasn't in the room anymore. No, she was in a mist, somewhere with no ups or downs, like she was in the clouds. She turned around slowly, her eyes widening when she saw it. Standing before her was a woman dressed in pure white, her skin unblemished, stainless, her hair as white as snow flowing in the direction of the wind. And her eyes glowed like silver moons.

Adina's eyes watered, and she didn't even know why.

The woman smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing Adina had ever seen. She stepped forward, bringing her hand forth and caressed Adina's cheek softly.

"My dear child," she whispered, and Adina's eyes shut.

"I've been waiting for you."