For Me,There Is Only You |18+|

65. Emberreach

This day felt like it had no intention of ending.

From stumbling upon those cryptic pages hidden in a painting to my unexpected detour to headquarters, and now, sitting on Ansel's private jet en route to Emberreach, the universe had decided that today was the day to bombard me with one thing after another.

I still wasn't entirely sure where Emberreach was, but I'd overheard the pilot mention we were somewhere over northern Mexico.

Through the jet's window, the vast desert stretched endlessly below, its golden sands glowing under the waning evening sun.

The horizon was ablaze with fading light, a breathtaking contrast to the exhaustion weighing down my limbs.

The flight took two hours, though it felt longer. When we finally landed, a sleek black SUV was already waiting on the tarmac.

Ansel exchanged a few words with the driver, a man who appeared to be around his age.

The familiarity between them was clear — a slight nod, a fleeting smile — but neither offered any introductions.

The ride was silent.

Partly because I had nothing to say, and partly because the day had wrung every ounce of energy from me.

Even forming a single coherent thought felt like too much effort.

I leaned back, staring out at the fading landscape, letting the hum of the engine fill the silence.

Ansel's hand was wrapped around mine once again as we sat in the back seat.

He'd told me to sleep, insisting I looked exhausted and promising to wake me when we arrived.

But sleep refused to come, no matter how hard I tried.

My mind was restless, flooded with questions.

What would Emberreach look like? What were Ansel's maternal grandparents like? How would they react to me?

And most importantly, would we actually find any answers to the cryptic text hidden in those pages?

The drive stretched on, an endless blur of desert on either side of the road. Pale sand and dark silhouettes of distant hills were all I could make out under the dim sky.

For nearly an hour and a half, there was nothing else — just the occasional cactus standing like a lone sentinel in the night.

But then, finally, the darkness gave way to scattered pinpricks of light. A small cluster of houses emerged on the horizon, glowing faintly like a mirage.

As the car rolled into Emberreach, I watched the village through the window.

The roads were smooth but narrow, paved with dark stone that gleamed faintly under the warm glow of streetlights. Some parts had cobblestone paths, uneven and worn. Sand gathered at the edges, carried by the desert winds.

Houses lined the streets, built mostly from sandstone and clay, their earthy tones blending seamlessly with the desert landscape.

Some had domed rooftops, others had flat terraces where potted plants sat under the moonlight. Some homes had delicate carvings etched into their walls, while others were painted in muted shades of ochre and terracotta.

Strings of glowing bulbs hung from balconies, swaying gently in the breeze.

Despite the dry, warm air, bursts of green peeked through — potted plants and vines curling along the sides of homes, adding a touch of life to the sandy surroundings.