Ezra had the feeling that he was not welcome at all, he began to hastily jot down some explanations, but the man cut him short. 

– This place is private property, get out. 

Ezra was forcibly escorted to the exit. He felt compelled to remark on the condition of the house 

– If you maintained the exterior better, he muttered, crumpling the map, I wouldn't think it was abandoned.

The man looked at the map keenly, 

– Where did you get that? he retorted sharply. 

Ezra took a few seconds to realize he was talking about the map. 

– This map?  It's just a trick by someone... he said angrily before recovering himself. 

– Uh, I mean, someone gave me your address to pick up some belongings, she might have been mistaken.

The man eyed Ezra with a hint of skepticism, Mrs Seleth had told him that a woman would come but Ezra with his dirt-covered pants and rugged appearance making him look more like an adventurer than a young man there to retrieve his sister's belongings.

- Name? he asked in a cold, guarded tone.

Ezra, feeling increasingly uneasy, wanted nothing more than to leave this place as soon as possible. Yet, he felt as if an invisible force held him there, feet rooted to the ground.

– Artoria Ezra, he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The man's reaction was unexpected. He looked taken aback, stepping back momentarily before leaning in closer, scrutinizing Ezra's face with a newfound intensity.

– Hmm, indeed, you do have the look of a young Artoria.

– Do you know my family? Ezra asked, his surprise evident in his tone.

The man's demeanor softened noticeably, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.

– Of course, he responded, gesturing for Ezra to follow him. His voice held a hint of unspoken knowledge, a recognition of a shared history that Ezra was not yet privy to.

A dusty, creaky staircase led them to the first floor. The parquet floor groaned under their weight, a testament to its long disuse.

– Sorry about the location, but in these difficult times, we must exercise extreme caution with matters classified as highly sensitive. I've packed Maya's things upstairs for you.

They ascended to the second floor, where the man led Ezra to a small, narrow room. The space was stark, its bare walls and absence of decoration giving it an almost haunting emptiness. In the center, on a simple table, lay a small suitcase.

– Everything is here, he said, his voice returning to its previous monotone. I'll leave you to a moment of privacy. But heed my warning: don't linger too long. It's not safe for you, or anyone associated with Maya, to be seen here. 

With that, the man left Ezra alone in the room, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of a sister's hidden legacy.

The man closed the door, leaving Ezra in complete confusion. 

He opened the suitcase and recognized his sister's belongings. 

Why did this man have his sister's things? Why can't he be seen here? An avalanche of questions raced through his head. 

Ezra rummaged through the suitcase, underneath the clothes was a small velvet box engraved with the initials JA. Recognizing his father's initials, his hands began to tremble so much at the thought of uncovering his father's item that he struggled to open the box.

Inside lay a golden signet ring, its top adorned with a pure white stone, delicately set upon a pedestal. Strangely when he looked at the stone, it sported small sparkles of different colors deep within the stone. Inside the ring was engraved James Artoria in italics. Ezra had never had an object from his father so he quickly put it on his finger. With the shining stone encased between his fingers, he felt a surge of pride wearing it.

Ezra was ready to close the suitcase and leave as quickly as possible, when he saw a small notebook in a small pocket on the side of the suitcase. The notebook, made of cardboard, was dog-eared and stained. He quickly flicked through its pages, although the notebook looked worn, the pages were oddly all blank. Ezra stopped at the last blank page, he didn't know how to explain it, but the notebook made him feel uneasy, like he wasn't allowed to read its contents.

Ezra inspected the page carefully, 

– Maybe it's my sister Maya's diary, he thought aloud. 

Upon his utterance, a black dot appeared, and letters began to form as if written by an invisible hand: 

– Sister?

Ezra leaned over the book not believing his eyes, 

– Maya is my sister, so what does that make me? he exclaimed. 

– Maya's brother? Ezra? 

Startled, Ezra stepped back and looked around. He was indeed alone. He waved his hand over the book, and looked up at the ceiling: no string, no pen in the air, no trickery, he was indeed talking to a book. Puzzled, Ezra whispered to the book: 

– Yes, it's me, Ezra...

He paused briefly to make sure no one was looking at him before continuing. After all, it would be ridiculous to see him talking to a book. 

– Are you a 'talking book'?

Suddenly, the line became faster and faster, as if the author was hurrying to write. He was finally able to decipher the messy handwriting amidst the drippings of ink. Ezra's eyes widened in amazement at the first sentences he read.

However, before he could even finish, the man abruptly opened the door. His expression was more worried than before. 

– You have to go now, he said hurriedly. Ezra didn't even have time to answer, the man grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the room. They raced down the stairs, the wood creaking with each step. 

– I'll make you go through the back of the house, once in the street, you go straight home, the man cried.

Ezra, caught off guard and looking at the old man's worried face, nodded and quickly followed him. The ground began to shake, the man quickly opened a door, it led to the back garden of the house.

The man put his hands on Ezra's shoulder, 

– Whatever happens, don't look back, he said breathlessly. 

– Come on, go! He said, waving his hand towards the small gate at the bottom of the garden.

The living room darkened as the light gave way to a purplish gloom. A dark door from which a dark mist escaped had appeared out of nowhere. The appearance of this door had disintegrated all the objects around, the walls began to split and break, while the wooden floor had already exploded.

Suddenly two menacing figures emerged from it, clad in large black cloaks with an intricate symbol on their backs. Frightened, Ezra spun on his heels, crossed the lawn, stepped over the garden gate and was now striding up the street, the small suitcase in his hand.

Ezra had put himself in a complicated situation, moreover he knew sooner or later that his mother was going to notice it, but he didn't care much for the moment. He had other, far more pressing concerns. Who were these people who appeared in the house? Was it possible they were after him? Was he being followed right now? At this thought, he turned around and scanned the street, but it appeared to him completely deserted but Ezra wasn’t sure that they didn't have the ability to make themselves invisible, he was no longer sure of anything.

He continued on his way without really seeing where he was going. He had never wandered the streets of these affluent neighborhoods, so he let his feet carry him aimlessly. From time to time he glanced over his shoulder. Powerful people had been present in the house, he was certain of that.  

Then suddenly, as his sense of frustration peaked, his certainty began to waver. After all, it was not possible.

Ezra felt a dull sensation in his stomach and the feeling of despair overwhelmed him. In the notebook, the first line he read was :

“They're after me, I'm scared dad." 

But what did 'They are after me' mean? What could his sister have been so scared of? As far as he could guess from the vague clues this contained, Maya and her father had something in common. Ezra found it unbearable to think that his sister was so close to their father, a man who was a complete mystery to him.

Don't think about all that, Ezra told himself grimly for the tenth time. It was already painful enough not to have known his father, no need to go over it again. Further ahead, he turned onto a random avenue. Halfway down the street, he passed a narrow alley, which seemed to him to go in the direction from which he had come earlier. Ezra turned into a new street and found himself towards a park darkened by twilight, he jumped over the locked gate of the park and crossed the parched lawn. The place was as deserted as the surrounding streets. When he got to the swings, he fell on one of them, put an arm around the chain and stared sullenly at the floor.

He opened the suitcase and grabbed the notebook, only to find, to his annoyance, that it was blank again. Ezra tried to communicate with the notebook, but it was in vain. The park was silent. All that was heard was the distant rumble of traffic on the avenue that ran along the gates. 

Ezra didn't know how long he had been away from home, nor did he know his current location, but it didn't matter. The sound of voices interrupted his musings. He raised his head. The lampposts on the surrounding streets cast a misty glow sufficient to distinguish a group of young men advancing through the park. Ezra knew who it was. The figure walking in front was undoubtedly Barton's. Ezra watched the dark figures cross the lawn and wondered who they had beaten up today. If Barton and his friends saw him sitting there, they'd run straight for him.

Ezra sighed in relief; they hadn't noticed him. Ezra clearly wasn't in the mood to see Barton and his gang right now. The voices of Barton and his friends faded away; they had taken the direction of a busy street and were now out of sight. Ezra got up and stretched. While he was in no hurry to face punishment for being late, he still needed to get home before darkness fell.

Ezra made his way along a street that epitomized opulence, with large, luxurious houses standing proudly, each one boasting a perfectly manicured lawn. Gleaming cars, symbols of wealth and status, glided silently in and out of driveways. This was Barton's territory, Ezra thought, a stark contrast to his own humble neighborhood. He quickened his pace, feeling a growing unease as he approached the middle of an adjacent street. That's when he spotted them again – Barton's gang, gathered in a tight circle, their laughter echoing off the lavish facades.

They were at the entrance of a particularly grand house, their voices carrying clearly in the still air. 

– ...he wasn't very tough. Just a few hits and he started howling like a pig, one of them said, a malicious chuckle punctuating his words.

– Same time tomorrow? Barton's voice rose above the others, casual and cruel.

Ezra edged closer, trying to remain unseen, but his foot dislodged a small stone, sending it skittering across the pavement. The noise, slight as it was, cut through the group's laughter like a knife. There was a moment of sudden, unnerving silence. Ezra's heart raced; he knew he had been noticed.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the group's heads turn subtly in his direction, their expressions shifting from amusement to predatory interest. Realizing he had been spotted, albeit subtly, Ezra felt a jolt of panic. Without thinking, Ezra turned and bolted down the aisle, his breath ragged, his mind racing. Behind him, the sound of Barton and his gang in pursuit filled the air, their shouts and jeers a menacing backdrop to his frantic escape.

He darted across streets and alleyways, his sole focus on putting distance between himself and his pursuers. His legs moved with a mind of their own, propelling him forward with desperate speed. He was crossing a street, his eyes fixed on the safety of the other side, when disaster struck.

Out of nowhere, a car appeared. Ezra's brain barely had time to register the vehicle before it was upon him. He felt a crushing pain as his body collided with the hard metal, the force of the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. The impact, throwing him into the air in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. As he soared weightlessly, time appeared to slow down, each millisecond a drawn-out agony.

Think… think of something happy before…  

He would never see his mother, his sister again...  His ears were ringing louder and louder and a voice in his head was telling him, "Fight to live... You can do it too... It's buried inside you." » 

His father's face popped into his mind as he tried to stay conscious. 

He focused on a familiar feeling that raced up his arm, then through his entire body. This time, his finger started to burn, his father's ring shone with a blinding light. Everything then became completely black; there was only a tunnel of lights swirling around him. A very strong pressure was exerted on all the surface of his body; he couldn't breathe, it was as if circles of steel were encircling his chest; his eyes sunk into their sockets and his eardrums seemed to stretch deeper and deeper inside his skull.