Chapter 3: The Journey to Phurg
The night was cool, and the streets of Eighfast were quiet as Yelena walked away from the Roberts’ villa. She didn’t look back. There was nothing left for her there—no family, no love, no future. Just a past filled with lies and betrayal.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found the number for a taxi service. Within minutes, a car pulled up, and Yelena slid into the backseat, giving the driver the address for the nearest bus station.
As the car sped through the city, Yelena stared out the window, her mind racing. Phurg. The name alone sounded desolate, a place forgotten by time and progress. She had heard stories about it—stories of poverty, hardship, and struggle. But it was also the place where she had been born, the place where her real family might still be waiting.
The bus station was dimly lit, with a handful of travelers scattered across the benches. Yelena bought a one-way ticket to Phurg and settled in to wait for the next bus. She didn’t have much with her—just the clothes on her back and the few belongings she had managed to pack into her bag. But she didn’t need much. She had her wits, her determination, and a burning desire to uncover the truth.
When the bus finally arrived, Yelena boarded and found a seat near the back. The engine rumbled to life, and the vehicle pulled out of the station, leaving Eighfast behind. As the city lights faded into the distance, Yelena felt a strange sense of relief. She was finally free of the Roberts family, free of their schemes and their cruelty.
The journey to Phurg was long and monotonous. The bus rattled along the highway, passing through small towns and vast stretches of empty countryside. Yelena dozed off occasionally, but her sleep was restless, filled with fragmented dreams of her past and the uncertain future that lay ahead.
By the time the bus reached Phurg, the sun was beginning to rise, casting a pale golden light over the landscape. Yelena stepped off the bus and looked around, taking in her first glimpse of the place she had once called home.
Phurg was exactly as she had imagined—barren, dusty, and eerily quiet. The streets were lined with crumbling buildings, and the few people she saw moved slowly, as if weighed down by the hardships of life. It was a stark contrast to the opulence of Eighfast, but Yelena didn’t feel out of place. If anything, she felt a strange sense of belonging, as if the very air of Phurg was calling to her.
She pulled out the piece of paper Jonathan had given her, the one with the address of her supposed biological family. It was a small house on the outskirts of town, nestled at the edge of a sparse forest. Yelena took a deep breath and started walking, her footsteps echoing in the empty streets.
As she approached the house, her heart began to race. What would she find there? A family who had missed her all these years? Or more disappointment and heartbreak? She didn’t know, but she was determined to find out.
The house was small and weathered, with a sagging roof and peeling paint. A thin trail of smoke rose from the chimney, and the faint sound of voices drifted through the open window. Yelena hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and knocked on the door.
There was a pause, followed by the sound of footsteps. The door creaked open, and a woman appeared, her face lined with age and hardship. She looked at Yelena with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
“Yes? Can I help you?” the woman asked, her voice rough but not unkind.
Yelena swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “My name is Yelena,” she said. “I was told this is where my biological family lives.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she took a step back, as if Yelena’s words had struck her like a physical blow. For a moment, she just stared, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she turned and called over her shoulder.
“Ethan! Come here! You need to see this!”
Yelena’s heart pounded as she waited, her mind racing with possibilities. Who was Ethan? Her father? A brother? She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
A moment later, a man appeared in the doorway. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp features and piercing eyes that seemed to see right through her. He looked at Yelena, and for a moment, there was silence.
Then, his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
“Well, well,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “Look who finally decided to come home.”