THE REASON

Uraveling The Bloodline

"But the flawed first dose,"

Lucia continued, her voice tight with a simmering resentment,

"your father didn't just peddle it to the gilded cages of millionaires. He cast a wider net, preying on desperation. Anyone with enough coin, anyone clinging to the precipice of death in that very hospital, he offered them a twisted bargain: a sliver of a chance at life eternal."

Her gaze flickered with a bitter memory. "Of course, not everyone who swallowed that tainted elixir survived. Some met the same swift, agonizing end as Valeria. But those who did… they became the first of the Cogs, granted long, unnatural lives, youthful for centuries, bound by the very desperation that drove them to accept such a gamble."

She paused, her gaze hardening. "Ren Haru, even in his opportunistic greed, had provided your father with the funds to refine his work, to pursue the 'perfection' that eluded the first attempt. The second dose. And who was the guinea pig for this new concoction? Me, of course. But my system, already irrevocably altered, recognized it as an invader, a virus to be eradicated. It failed."

Her eyes, centuries old, locked onto mine. "Then, in his relentless pursuit, your father turned to his own. He tested it on your mother, Camilla, and then on himself. They became the first of the Supreme Beings." A hint of something akin to awe, tinged with disgust, flickered across her face. "Closer to his twisted ideal. Almost perfect. Except for one crucial flaw: the severing of the very thread of life, the inability to create anew."

My mind reeled, the pieces of this horrific puzzle clicking into place, each one more disturbing than the last. I finally managed to stammer, "So… how did the Cogs and Supreme Beings… and those masked men… how did they all come into play here? Who were they working for?"

Veronica, her voice tight with a dawning understanding, pressed further. "And how many Cogs are out there?"

It was Maya who answered, her voice low and grim. "A lot. But most of them exist in a state of… servitude. A sire bond, they call it, linking them to a Supreme Being. During the 1980s, a particularly brutal period, three Supreme Beings went on a rampage, slaughtering any Cog who wasn't directly bound to them. Arnold was one of those monsters."

Lucia's eyes blazed, a raw, untamed fury surfacing. "The same damn thing your father did, a few years before the First World War. He called it… the sweep. Your mother… and Aaron… your father's friend, a lone Cog, just like I was then… they were the ones who saved me from his bloody reign. And let me tell you," her voice shook with barely suppressed rage, "your father was far more monstrous than Arnold and his little gang. He was a goddamn monster."

"Who is Aaron?" The name had been a persistent whisper in the back of my mind, an unsettling echo from Lucia's hushed phone call.

Lucia's gaze flickered, a shadow crossing her face. "Aaron the Hound," she said, the title carrying a weight of its own. "A lone Cog, unlike any other. He has no sire bond, walks freely among those Supreme monsters, and yet… they can't touch him. For reasons no one truly understands, they all want him alive. He's their bloodhound, their tracker, the one they unleash during their rampages to sniff out Cog hideouts. I… I reported to him for a while. I felt I owed him my life, a debt I could never truly repay. Bottom line," she emphasized, her voice low and firm, "Aaron can find anyone."

Then, she cut off any further inquiry, her expression closing off. "No more questions about Aaron." The finality in her tone brooked no argument, leaving the mystery of Aaron hanging heavy in the air.

The clinking of plates against the remnants of our uneasy meal faded, leaving a fragile silence in its wake. I watched as Maya's gaze, subtle yet persistent, kept returning to Lucia's injured hand, a silent question hanging in the air between them.

"Lucia," Maya said, her voice calm but with an undercurrent that prickled my senses, "come help me in the kitchen with the dishes."

Veronica's eyes met mine across the table, a mirror of my own dawning suspicion. Whatever was happening, whatever secrets these two shared, they weren't telling us. And suddenly, the mundane task of washing dishes felt like the most crucial conversation we couldn't afford to miss. We would have to be close. We would have to listen.

As Maya turned on the faucet, the rush of water a deliberate attempt to mask their words, I tensed, straining my ears. "Alright, talk to me, Lucia," Maya's voice cut through the watery noise, laced with a bewildered concern. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," Lucia replied, the flatness of her tone a blatant lie.

"Don't lie to me," Maya pressed, her voice sharper now. "Your hand… that injury isn't healing the way it should. You're wearing off, Lucia. I can see it. How much longer do you think you have?"

A long silence stretched, punctuated only by the insistent drumming of water. Then, Lucia's voice, barely a whisper, filled with a desperate secrecy and a profound regret, drifted through the doorway. "I don't know, Maya. A year… a month… a week… I don't know. All I know is… I need more time than I've got." The unspoken urgency in her words hung heavy in the air, a chilling counterpoint to the relative safety of Maya's home. Whatever Lucia was facing, it was a race against a clock we couldn't see.

"And Aaron?" Maya pressed, her voice laced with a subtle urgency that belied her earlier weariness.

A beat of silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken tension. Then, Lucia's reply, when it came, was hesitant, a thread of something akin to betrayal woven through it. "Aaron… I'm not sure I can trust Aaron anymore." A disruptive regret, a sense of a bridge burned, colored her words.

Maya's shoulders slumped, a wave of despair washing over her features. "Oh, please… when will all this be over, Lucia? It's been years since I've been hiding here… years stolen from my life. I need to walk free again, to feel the sun on my skin without this constant fear. I'm getting too old, too tired of living like a ghost." Her desperation was palpable, a raw yearning for a life that had been put on hold. But what exactly was she hiding from? What shadows haunted her quiet existence?

"Soon, Maya… soon, I promise." Lucia's voice, though meant to be reassuring, held a note of grim determination. "The girls… they are the key to the end of all this. We found…"

Her words caught in her throat, her head snapping up. A sharp, almost imperceptible creak echoed from the living room – the tell-tale groan of old wood protesting an unexpected weight. My stomach lurched. We'd been too close.

"Who's there?" Lucia's voice, the earlier weariness gone, was now sharp, accusatory. She moved with a speed that belied her injury, heading towards the doorway that led to our hiding place. Panic flared in my chest. We had to move. Now. We bolted, scrambling away from the kitchen, the weight of their half-heard secrets and Lucia's fractured trust in Aaron adding another layer of unease to the already suffocating fear. We were running again, but this time, the darkness behind us held not just the threat of the Supreme Beings, but the weight of unanswered questions and a growing sense of betrayal.

Our clumsy retreat sent another groan echoing through the old house. Lucia’s eyes, sharp and assessing, locked onto the doorway where we’d been. There was no anger in them, just a weary resignation, as if our eavesdropping was an inevitable complication.

“Come out,” she commanded, her voice low but firm. “Now.”

Veronica and I exchanged a panicked glance. There was no point in denying it. Slowly, we emerged from the shadows of the living room, the creaking floorboards betraying our every step. Maya watched us, her expression a mixture of exasperation and concern.

Lucia sighed, running a hand through her already disheveled hair. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“What were you about to say?” I blurted out, the suspense gnawing at me. “You said we were the key to ending all this. What did you find?”

Lucia hesitated, her gaze flicking between Veronica and me. The weight of her centuries seemed to settle upon her, a visible burden. “It’s… complicated. And frankly, after what I just told Maya, I’m not sure how much more you can handle right now.”

“We can handle it,” Veronica insisted, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. “We deserve to know why we’re being hunted, why our father… why everything.”

Lucia studied us for a long moment, her ancient eyes seeming to peer into our very souls. Then, a resolute set hardened her features. "No," she stated firmly, her voice brooking no argument. "When the time comes, you'll know everything. For now," her gaze softened slightly, a protective instinct overriding her earlier weariness, "keeping you safe is the only priority." She stood her ground, a silent sentinel guarding the secrets she had unearthed.