Thirty seven

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Five months had passed since everything went down. It felt like a lifetime ago, like a different world where everything had been dark and chaotic. Now, things were quiet, almost too quiet. I had found peace, or at least, the closest thing to it. The spirits of the underworld still watched over me, their presence a constant comfort. They protected me like I was one of their own, their daughter. It felt nice to have someone—or something—looking out for me, even when the world felt empty.

Ava was still... there, but not really. She remained paralyzed in her wheelchair, her eyes open but vacant. People prayed for her every day, hoping for a miracle, for her to wake up and come back to us. I prayed too, in my own way. I prayed that somehow, somewhere, she'd find her way back.

But even with everything settled, there was still one thing that haunted me.

I had my answers for everything, except one.

What actually happened to Silas?

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