Rain poured relentlessly, drumming against the windshield in a rhythm that filled the silence.
Luca had turned off the engine a while ago, but no one spoke. The quiet between them was heavy, almost tangible, as if a single word could shatter the fragile calm holding them together.
Clara stared blankly ahead, her fingers intertwined on her lap.
She kept whispering, like a broken mantra:
"Sanctuary… Sanctuary…"
Every repetition stripped the word of meaning until it became nothing more than sound.
Adrian watched her from the passenger seat.
Raindrops glistened in his blue eyes, eyes filled with torment, love, and a desperation that never seemed to fade.
"It can't just be a name," he said finally, his voice low and hoarse. "It has to mean something."
Clara shook her head.
"We've checked every database, every record. Sanctuary doesn't exist anywhere. It's not on any map."
Luca, behind the wheel, leaned back and exhaled.
"Then maybe it's not a place," he suggested, his voice pragmatic but tense. "Maybe it's a project. A code name. Something meant to hide its true location."
Their voices dissolved into the steady hum of the rain. Adrian rubbed his temples, frustration clouding his expression.
"We need a connection. Something, or someone, who can show us where to look."
Clara's gaze lifted to meet his, and for an instant, her eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and despair.
"Aurora."
Luca turned slowly toward her.
"What do you mean?"
She drew in a deep breath, as though preparing to jump off a cliff.
"If the connection between us is real, if what happened before truly happened, then maybe she can feel us too. Maybe she can lead us to her."
Luca hesitated, thinking it through.
"It might work," he admitted softly. "But it would take power. Focus."
His eyes flicked to Adrian. "You two are the key."
Adrian nodded.
"Then we try. No more waiting."
Luca switched off the headlights. The rain softened, yet every drop seemed louder in the darkness that wrapped around them.
Clara turned toward Adrian. Their hands found each other in the dim light, a simple touch, but one that sent a quiet shiver through both.
"Close your eyes," he whispered. "Follow her voice in your mind."
She obeyed. Her breathing slowed, her heartbeat steadying as she searched the void within her thoughts.
She tried to recall that tiny, trembling voice she'd heard back in the base, the one that had whispered "mom?" and cracked her heart wide open. But this time, nothing came. Only silence.
Clara clenched her eyes tighter, trying to push through the wall of resistance pressing against her skull. Her pulse echoed in her ears, loud, desperate, hollow.
Then a choked sob escaped her lips.
"It's not working… I can't reach her."
Adrian cupped her face gently.
"You can. Aurora's looking for you. But fear… fear builds walls."
Luca said nothing. Watching them was like witnessing something sacred, two souls connected by something beyond the physical, beyond reason itself.
Clara rested her forehead against Adrian's chest, her fingers trembling against his.
"Help me," she breathed.
"I'm here," he whispered back.
And in that instant, everything shifted.
The air inside the car grew heavier, as if the pressure had suddenly doubled.
The dashboard lights flickered, then went black. A low hum began to pulse around them, deep, resonant, like a heartbeat coming from the earth itself.
A sharp ache bloomed behind Adrian's eyes. Clara opened hers, but the world had vanished.
All she saw was light: pale, endless, fluid.
And then, from within that light, came a voice.
"Daddy?… Mommy?"
It was delicate, fragile, like a silver bell ringing in the distance.
Clara gasped, clutching Adrian's hands.
"Aurora!"
The words came in bursts, the connection fragile and flickering:
"It's dark… it's cold… but I'm not alone… they make me sleep…"
Tears welled in Clara's eyes.
"Sweetheart, hold on. Please, tell me where you are."
Silence. Then a broken whisper.
"I can't… they're always… listening…"
The connection fractured. The light splintered into shards, fading into blackness.
Clara screamed her daughter's name inside her mind, but the voice was gone, like sand slipping through her fingers. A second later, the car was silent again.
Adrian's breathing was ragged. Clara buried her face in her hands, shaking with quiet sobs.
Luca looked away, his throat tight.
Adrian pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
"You heard her," he murmured against her hair. "She said she's not alone. And that they're keeping her asleep."
Clara lifted her tear-stained face, her brown eyes blazing with a fragile light.
"Then she's alive."
Adrian nodded slowly.
"Yes. And she's waiting for us."
Luca stared through the fogged windshield, lost in thought.
"And we know something else now," he said quietly.
"What?" Clara asked, her voice trembling.
"If she can reach you, she's not in a place like Arezzo. No heavy shielding, no containment field. She's somewhere smaller, isolated, but open."
Clara's eyes closed.
"It doesn't matter where. If I can feel her… I can find her."
Adrian's fingers tightened around hers, their palms still joined, one current flowing through both.
For a heartbeat, the air around them seemed to hum again, answering the vow forming between them.
"No matter who tries to stop us," he said softly but firmly, "we're bringing her home."