Tuesday dawned clear, but Lucy woke with a weight in his chest. He had dreamed of David again—devouring endlessly, shadows feeding him more, until black chains dragged him down.
Lucy sat up, sweating. It wasn't just imagination. The Eyes bled into his dreams now, warning him.
In the kitchen, his mother sipped coffee, the radio humming.
"You look like you didn't sleep," she said.
"Strange dream," he muttered, chewing toast.
She ruffled his hair gently.
"That's what happens when you stay up writing in that notebook. You'll exhaust yourself."
Lucy forced a smile. If she knew what he truly wrote, she'd never sleep soundly again.
School buzzed louder than usual. As soon as Lucy entered the main hall, he caught the whispers:
"Did you hear about the cafeteria?"
"Someone stole all the pastries."
"Bet it was David. Who else?"
Lucy frowned, heading straight for the cafeteria. The stall manager argued with students, furious about missing stock.
David wasn't there. But his absence shouted louder than presence.
In first class, Lucy found him asleep at his desk. Sugar dust still clung to his lips. Threads around him swirled darker than before—and worse, they reached outward.
Lucy saw it clearly:
A boy beside him yawned constantly, drained.
A girl behind clutched her stomach, uneasy, as if infected by his hunger.
David's karma was spreading.
At recess, Mark taunted him.
"Hey, pig! Leave some for the rest of us!"
Laughter rippled. David flushed, fists trembling. The black thread pulsed violently. For a second, Lucy thought he'd attack.
Then the vision hit.
David out of control, raising a chair. Students screaming. Red and black threads coiling him like a ravenous monster.
Lucy blinked hard, heart racing. That vision wasn't past—it was future.
After recess, Lucy caught him in the hall.
"David, wait."
"What do you want now?" his voice was rough.
Lucy swallowed. The right words burned in his throat. If he said them wrong, he'd only fuel it.
"If you need help… just tell me."
David shoved him against the wall. His eyes blazed.
"I don't need you. Got it?"
He stormed away, leaving black threads gnawing at the corridor.
That afternoon in computer class, Lucy couldn't focus. The teacher explained tables and data, but on his page he sketched circles and black lines, mimicking the threads spreading from David.
Emily, beside him, leaned closer.
"What's that?"
He shut the notebook quickly.
"Nothing. Just doodles."
She raised a brow but let it go. Her blue thread flickered pink, as if she sensed his unease.
Back home, Lucy rushed to his room. He scribbled in his journal:
David's thread spreads now, infecting others.
The Eyes show a future of violence.
If I don't act, it'll end in disaster.
He collapsed into his chair, face in his hands. For the first time since awakening his power, he felt true fear—not for himself, but for what could happen to David and everyone near him.
Through the window, dusk bled across the street. And there, again, stood a silhouette at the corner. Still. Watching.
David's judgment was only beginning. And Lucy knew he'd have to face it—whether he wanted to or not.