"Where am I?"
Darkness. All-consuming. Endless.
Then, slowly, the black dissolved into shifting shapes—walls, shelves, scattered papers. A small office, dim and cold. The hum of a light overhead flickered, pale and unnatural.
Wyxro walked carefully across the floor. Each step stirred whispers, the sound of crumpling pages, the echo of something half-remembered.
A glint drew his eyes.
A mirror.
The reflection stopped him cold.
It wasn't his. A girl stared back. Long hair tangled, skin smeared with blood. A deep gash split her forehead. Her eyes—empty, lifeless—locked onto his. Her mouth began to move, soundless, as though about to scream.
Then—a shadow stirred at the edge of the glass. Featureless. Wrong. Approaching.
Wyxro gasped awake.
Sweat drenched his small body, sheets tangled around his legs. His chest heaved, panic clawing at his throat. He rubbed his temple instinctively, willing the pounding to stop.
"A dream…" he whispered hoarsely.
Morning light seeped weakly through the curtains. Outside, clouds gathered heavy and gray, the air damp with the scent of coming rain.
Bare feet cold on the wooden floor, Wyxro stumbled toward the washroom—only to nearly collide with his father.
"Kiddo, you're up early," Ethan said, fastening the clasp of his guard uniform.
Wyxro only yawned and splashed cold water onto his face. The shock cleared the fog, though the unease remained.
From the hallway, voices drifted in—Ethan speaking to another guard.
"…Another child's gone missing. Near the old lumber house again."
Wyxro froze. Missing?
Seven years old. Disappeared while playing near the forest. No witnesses. No trace.
A chill pressed into his chest as if the dream had followed him into waking.
---
The kitchen smelled of porridge and herbs. Ariel giggled in her high chair, spoon clattering against the table as Wads carefully fed her. Audinna smiled at the sight, hands busy at the chopping board.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Wads, could you get that?" Audinna asked, not looking up.
He sighed and pulled it open. A flash of gold met him.
Klyden.
"Good morning, Mrs. Waxzi! Good morning, little Ariel!" the boy chimed, stepping in without hesitation.
"What are you doing here?" Wyxro muttered.
"I came to ask if I can walk with you to school tomorrow!" Klyden said brightly.
Wyxro frowned, but Audinna answered first, smiling warmly. "Of course, sweet Klyden. I'd be glad if you did."
And just like that, Klyden was happily eating cookies at their table.
Wyxro could only stare in disbelief.
---
Later, in the backyard, the woods stretched out beyond the fence. The air smelled of pine and earth, thick with the sound of unseen birds.
"How long are you going to follow me?" Wyxro snapped.
Klyden grinned. "Forever!"
Wyxro shook his head. "Annoying…"
Klyden stopped suddenly, his grin fading. "Do you really think that?"
Wyxro blinked. The boy's blue eyes, usually full of mischief, now held an unexpected sincerity.
A pause.
Then Klyden's grin returned. "Good! You should!"
Wyxro sighed, muttering under his breath, "No. I don't."
Klyden's smile softened.
---
The dirt path led them deeper into the woods. Trees grew thick, branches weaving into a canopy that filtered the light. Soon, a river appeared, its waters glistening faintly beneath the shade.
Across a worn wooden bridge stood an old house. Gray, rotting, swallowed by ivy. Windows cracked and broken. A rusted axe stuck in a stump nearby.
Something about it made Wyxro's stomach twist.
Then—BANG.
A loud thud from inside.
Both froze.
"Should we… check it?" Wyxro asked quietly.
Klyden's face had gone pale, but he nodded, clutching Wyxro's sleeve.
The door creaked open. A wave of stench struck them—rot, old blood, decay.
Klyden gagged, stumbling back.
Wyxro's eyes locked on the horror within. A blood-soaked sack. Flies buzzing thick in the air. And hanging from a beam—small, limp, lifeless.
A child.
His breath caught. Limbs refused to move.
No…
Klyden yanked him back, slamming the door shut with trembling hands.
"We… we have to tell someone," he stammered.
The words barely reached Wyxro's ears. Rage, nausea, and an ache he couldn't name twisted inside him.
They ran. Faster than fear.
---
By nightfall, the truth spread. The missing child had been found, dead. The suspect: a lumberjack. His crimes confirmed.
Ethan's jaw was grim as he donned his armor again, preparing for what came next.
At the window, Wyxro clenched his fists. Knuckles white.
But through the storm in his chest, one thing lingered.
Klyden had been terrified. Yet he had stayed. He hadn't run.
Wyxro closed his eyes, whispering to himself, steady and low:
"I'll remember the good."
Outside, the moon slipped behind the clouds, and the night seemed to hold its breath.