Anastasia's strange, sudden suggestion, and Maya's delivery, worked. It stopped him… just for a moment—to laugh. He found the threat absurd.

"There are no spirit benders," he scoffed dismissively and moved her aside without much effort to continue his relentless pursuit of the ever-confused Elena.

Maya panicked. She had put trust in Anastasia's guidance, but her over-the-top rendition had fallen flat, leaving her scrambling for options.

"T-then—repeat these words," Anastasia hastily offered, eager to help.

Without hesitation, Maya heeded her advice. In her final effort, she recited words that were handed to her. Initially, she hoped the verse carried some magical weight as her physical strength had failed to hinder him.

"I lost a world the other day. Has anybody found? It didn't look like much was there, But to people, I was bound…"

It froze him in his tracks. However, suddenly reciting a poem in a situation like this would bewilder anyone.

Undeterred, Maya continued:

"…The sun proceeds unmoved, To measure off another day As I humbly ask of you: Keep the secret of my grave."

"What the fuck?" Elena was completely lost in this situation. Still in ready-stance in case he wanted to fight.

Her decision to recite a poem in such a situation was not only beyond bizarre, but her desperate delivery did it no favours. However, he recognized it. Clearly, it held significance for him. It seemed to have cruelly reopened an old, painful wound, and behind his eyes, he was reduced to an emotional wreck.

Elena's presence was completely erased from his mind as he sharply turned toward Maya. "Where did you hear that?!" he demanded.

A flicker of something ferocious in his gaze momentarily caused a surge of genuine fear in Maya. It was an unspoken desperation and an unpredictable element that even he seemed to fear.

"Anastasia passed it onto me," Maya answered timidly.

She instinctively shrank back, as though bracing for a blow even though he showed no sign of aggression towards her.

"Anastasia?" The name didn't resonate with him, but the softening of his tone reflected his attempt to alleviate the palpable fear he saw mirrored in her eyes.

"Lady Anastasia Kobernik."

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His eyebrows raised in disbelief. "The same Lady Anastasia who's been dead since the bloody 16th century?" At least he seemed to be on the same page about the person in question. "You seriously think I would believe that?" his voice was chilling.

"She insisted it would convince you," she voiced, her plea sounding desperate. "She's standing right there!"

Maya gestured towards what seemed to them like an empty space. Suddenly aware that her statement would hold no logic for him.

For the first time, she was revealing her unique ability to another person, Elena being the exception who had pieced it together herself. How could she swiftly articulate this to someone without sounding insane?

His confusion was evident as he mulled over her outlandish claim. He paused, seemingly piecing together a puzzle in his mind. What connections was he making? She was as bewildered as he was, but her faith in Anastasia was unwavering.

"That's imposs—" he cut himself off abruptly. A note of caution entered his voice as he posed the question, "Your name—what is it?"

"Maya Watergate," she responded, a slight tremor in her voice betraying her anxiety.

"As in Rose and William Watergate?" his eyes were wide as if it came as a frightening thought.

Now it was her turn to be completely confused by what he said. How did he know her parents' names?

"Y-yes. How… why… do you know my parents?" Her words came tumbling out, lost in a whirlpool of confusion.

He clutched his head, fingers entwined in his hair, tugging in distress. His demeanour projected an image of a man on the brink of shattering.

Lady Anastasia appeared on the verge of tears, yet her eyes held an odd spark of joy. Maya, caught in the middle, stared from one to the other, unable to comprehend the strange situation.

"You guys know each other?" Elena's voice pierced the confusion.

It was as if she broke his trance. His sword arm extended in a swift, almost imperceptible motion. In a heartbeat, she found herself within his striking distance. The sword's tip was perfectly aligned with her throat, stopping just shy of making contact. He gently applied pressure, the cold tip of the blade lightly grazing her skin.

Holding her head high, she stood her ground. She could easily retreat a step and escape his reach, but she chose not to. She stood firm, engaging in a glaring contest.

The intensity of their mutual loathing was infecting the air between them.

"Maya, could you explain what in the holy hell is happening?" Elena demanded an explanation.

Gently, Maya reached out, her hand making contact with his forearm. With a soft pull, she guided the arm holding the sword downwards. He didn't resist this time.

The events unfolding were enveloped in a haze of confusion, yet she held onto the certainty that he would not harm her. There was a connection between them, a thread of destiny that seemed to weave their lives together.

He looked at Maya, a myriad of unspoken emotions swirling in his eyes. She could sense his pain, raw and deep, tugging at her heartstrings. An almost overwhelming urge to envelop him in a comforting embrace welled up within her.

Despite the strangeness of their encounter, a bond had formed. He was a stranger, yet there was an inexplicable link between them. Maya had never been one to believe in fate, but at this moment, she couldn't deny the feeling that their paths were destined to cross.

"Guys, I'd hate to interrupt… whatever this is. But we have an audience," Elena warned as her gaze darted through the shadowy woods surrounding them. "We have to leave. Now."

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