Chapter 1 (Part I): The Night Before Everything Ended
The convenience store lights were too bright for a night like this.
Kael stood near the counter, shoulders slightly hunched, one hand resting against the cool glass of the refrigerated drinks section as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, sharp and unforgiving, stabbing at his eyes. He blinked slowly, breathing through the familiar tightness in his chest.
He hated nights like this.
"Card or cash?" the cashier asked, voice flat and tired, already reaching for the next customer's items.
"Card," Kael replied quietly, sliding it across the counter with fingers that trembled just enough to be noticeable—to him, at least.
The small white paper bag sat between them, crinkled at the edges. Inside were the medications he'd memorized by name and dosage long ago. Pills meant to ease the symptoms. Pills meant to delay the inevitable spiral his body liked to pull him into when it decided today was a bad day.
They were supposed to last him until the second semester of his second year.
At least, that was what the doctor had said last time, eyes carefully neutral, voice professional in that way that meant uncertainty was being hidden behind experience. Kael hadn't pressed further. He never did.
The machine beeped softly.
"Approved."
Kael nodded, took the bag, and slipped the card back into his wallet with practiced motions. He murmured a quiet thanks that almost didn't come out at all and turned toward the exit.
The automatic doors slid open with a hiss, and the night air rushed in to greet him.
Cool. Damp. Heavy.
It was around nine in the evening. The sky above was dark but not empty, clouded over by the faint orange glow of distant streetlights. Cars passed occasionally on the main road, their headlights streaking by like indifferent comets. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed—too loud, too alive.
Kael stepped outside and paused.
For a moment, he simply stood there, breathing.
His body felt… wrong.
Not unusual. Just worse than normal.
He adjusted the strap of his bag against his shoulder and began walking down the side road that led away from the store. It was quieter here, the kind of road people only used if they lived nearby or had nowhere else to go. The pavement was uneven, cracked in places, patched over poorly. Small weeds pushed through the gaps, stubborn and alive.
Kael watched them as he walked, counting steps in his head without realizing it.
One. Two. Three.
The bag with his medicine felt heavier than it should have.
His throat tightened suddenly.
Kael stopped walking.
He turned his head slightly and coughed into his fist, the sound sharp and ugly in the quiet night. When he pulled his hand back, there was red.
Not much.
Enough.
"…Great," he muttered under his breath, wiping his hand against the fabric of his pants without really caring where it went. His breathing grew shallow for a moment, chest rising and falling faster than it should have. The familiar dizziness followed soon after, creeping in at the edges of his vision like a patient predator.
This wasn't supposed to happen tonight.
He had work tomorrow morning.
The café would be busy—weekends always were—and the manager had already warned him about calling in sick too often. Kael didn't blame him. Part-time workers were replaceable. Especially quiet ones. Especially ones who looked like they might collapse if you stared at them too hard.
He forced himself to keep moving.
Each step felt heavier than the last, like gravity itself had decided to single him out. His limbs were slow to respond, muscles trembling faintly with every shift of weight. His vision blurred, then cleared, then blurred again.
He exhaled slowly, focusing on not panicking.
Panicking made it worse.
It always did.
As he walked, his mind drifted—not to dramatic thoughts, not to regrets, but to the small, ordinary pieces of his life that filled the empty spaces between episodes like this.
The apartment waiting for him a few blocks away. Small. Quiet. Cheap enough to maintain without dipping too deeply into what his parents had left behind.
They had died early.
He didn't remember much about it. Just fragments. Hospital rooms. Muted conversations. The weight of silence afterward. The inheritance had been… modest. Enough to keep him afloat. Enough to buy medicine. Enough to avoid complete ruin.
Not enough to fix him.
College had been similar. First year done. Classes attended. Assignments submitted. No close friends. No real enemies either. Just faces. Names. Acquaintances that blurred together over time.
Kael didn't mind the solitude.
He preferred observing. Listening. Staying just outside the center of things.
Anime, games, novels—especially the kind you read online late at night when sleep refused to come. Stories about systems and progression and characters who grew stronger step by step. Worlds where effort was rewarded and rules made sense, even when they were cruel.
He liked those worlds.
They felt honest in a way reality wasn't.
His chest seized suddenly.
Kael stumbled, hand shooting out to brace against a nearby streetlamp. His fingers scraped against cold metal, failing to find purchase as his legs buckled beneath him for half a second before locking again through sheer stubbornness.
His heart was racing now.
Too fast.
His breath came out uneven, shallow gasps that burned his lungs. His vision narrowed, the edges darkening as a sharp pressure built behind his eyes.
"No… not here," he whispered, voice barely audible.
This was bad.
Worse than usual.
The world tilted as he tried to straighten, his sense of balance slipping away like sand through open fingers. His hands shook uncontrollably now, fingers numb, useless.
The medicine bag slipped from his grasp.
It hit the ground with a soft sound that felt impossibly loud.
Kael stared at it, mind blank for a moment as if unable to process what it meant. His knees gave out next, the strength draining from them all at once, sudden and absolute.
He fell.
The impact knocked the air from his lungs, pain blooming across his side as he hit the pavement hard. His head struck the ground with a dull thud, stars bursting behind his eyes.
For a moment, all he could do was lie there.
The night pressed down on him, heavy and uncaring. The streetlamp above flickered once, twice, its light blurring into indistinct halos.
Kael tried to move.
His body didn't respond.
His fingers twitched uselessly against the cold concrete. His chest rose and fell in ragged motions, each breath feeling like it might be his last if he wasn't careful. Blood coated the back of his throat again, metallic and warm.
His thoughts slowed.
Sounds grew distant. The hum of electricity. The faint rush of passing cars. Footsteps somewhere far away that never came closer.
So this is how it feels, he thought dimly.
Not dramatic.
Just… quiet.
He wondered briefly if anyone from the café would notice if he didn't show up tomorrow. If the cashier from the convenience store would remember him. If any of the acquaintances from college would scroll past his name without thinking twice.
It didn't hurt as much as he expected.
Mostly, he felt tired.
So very tired.
The sky above him seemed farther away now, the clouds slowly drifting apart to reveal a few faint stars. Kael focused on them, on the way they shimmered weakly against the dark, refusing to disappear entirely.
Funny, he thought.
He'd always liked stories about beginnings.
Never really considered endings.
His breathing slowed.
The pressure in his chest eased—not because things were getting better, but because his body was beginning to give up the fight. His awareness faded in waves, consciousness slipping through his grasp no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it.
The last thing Kael felt was the cold seeping into his back, the ground beneath him solid and unyielding.
The last thing he thought was strangely mundane.
I didn't even make it home.
Then the night swallowed him whole.