I bolted out onto the porch and jumped into my car without thinking twice. The tires screeched as I sped down the empty road, racing to Ethan's house. My heart was thudding so loud it echoed inside my skull. When I got there, I didn't wait. I ran up the steps and banged on the front door so hard I thought I might break it. A few seconds later, it swung open. Ethan's dad stood there, confused and a little alarmed.
"Where's Ethan?" I asked, breathless.
"He hasn't returned since afternoon," he said, frowning. "He told me he was going to your house. What's wrong?"
That was when it hit me.
Something had happened to Ethan.
Panic tangled with confusion in my mind. I couldn't connect the dots. How the hell was a schoolteacher in a quiet town like this—where the most exciting thing was a new bakery—mixed up in the twisted shit I saw today? What had Ethan gotten pulled into? What had I dragged him into?
I knew there was only one person who could answer that.
Mason.
I drove straight to his place. The house looked nothing like before. When Ethan and I had come here earlier, the place had been lit, alive, strangely eerie but not entirely off. Now, it was just... dark. Dead quiet. The porch light was off. Every window was a shadow.
I parked a little away, cut the engine, and stepped out. My shoes barely made a sound on the gravel. I crept closer, every nerve in my body screaming. The front door wasn't even locked. I pushed it open slowly. The hinges groaned.
Each step inside felt like a death sentence. The air was thick. Heavy. My breath caught as a droplet of sweat slid down my temple. I was terrified—honestly, on the verge of pissing myself—but I couldn't back out. Not now. Not after dragging Ethan into this.
The house was pitch black, save for one room.
From under the door, a faint yellow light glowed.
I moved closer, my footsteps soft and calculated. I leaned in, ear to the door, trying to pick up anything inside. At first, I thought it was static. Then I realized it was whispering. Low, fast, overlapping whispers. My blood ran cold.
My fear surged. I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear.
Instead, I threw my shoulder against the door.
It didn't budge.
I hit it again.
Still nothing.
On the third try, the door burst open.
And I froze.
The room was bathed in candlelight, flickering wildly like the flames were feeding off something unnatural. Five figures stood inside. They were dressed in long black robes with white ropes tied around their waists. Each of them wore a strange chain with a locket—an inverted triangle, and inside it, a candle flickered eerily.
But it was their eyes that made my stomach turn.
Pitch black. Not a hint of light. Just a void. Like staring into a hole that didn't end.
"Fuck... it's a cult."
The words slipped out before I even knew I was thinking them.
I slammed the door shut and turned to run.
But my feet never hit the ground.
I was floating.
My limbs flailed. I screamed, "Fuckkk! What's happening?!"
And then, in an instant, I dropped.
Everything went black.
When I woke up, my body ached and my head spun. My eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight. I was tied to a wooden chair in that same cursed room. My wrists were bound tight. My heart thundered in my chest as panic rose again.
And then, he walked in.
Calder.
That son of a bitch.
He strolled in with a smile on his face like this was just another normal evening.
"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan," he said mockingly. "I never thought you'd come straight to my pit running,dear boy."
"What the fuck is happening?" I snapped, struggling against the ropes. "Where's Ethan? Who the fuck are you?"
Calder raised a hand, casual and calm.
"Easy, Ryan. Do you really think you saw all that today by coincidence? No. This... was the plan all along. Ethan's only here because you brought him into it. All I needed was you."
I stared at him, trying to make sense of anything he was saying. "Why me? What the hell are you talking about?"
"You've been chosen, my son," he said. "Chosen for a purpose greater than your small mind can comprehend. You were chosen the day you escaped that accident."
My breath caught. "The fire... at Juner's house?"
He nodded. "That wasn't our doing. That was purely an accident. But you... surviving it? That was fate. And the way you survived—that was what brought you here."
"What do you mean? I just used a box to block the cupboard—"
"Yes. The metal box," he interrupted. "The one you used to stop the cupboard from crushing your skull. That box was not just some old junk, Ryan. It contained preserved blood and the sacred remnants of Rathadium-bearing sacrificed ones. The box was alive, in a way. It was considered a vessel by the Dusk Society."
I stared at him, stunned.
"You used it to survive. Now, you owe your life to the Dusk Society. And the Society always takes what it's owed."
"This is insane," I whispered.
"Is it?" Calder tilted his head. "You were born on the ninth night of the Astral Gurge, during the seventh cosmic occurring. That alignment happens once every ninety years. You, my son, are rare. You are power. With you, the Dusk Society can rise again."
He began pacing across the room.
"Taking you outright would've raised suspicions. So I paved a path. A path that led you straight to us."
I swallowed hard. "This is fucking crazy."
Calder smiled wider.
"Your blood... your soul... is worth more than a hundred sacrifices. With you, we can summon the true Lord of the Society."
"What the fuck is Rathadium? what the fuck is this Dusk society?" I shouted. "You're all batshit crazy! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
He grabbed me by the throat and leaned in close. "You'll know once the Lord arrives."
I gasped. "Who the hell is that?"
Calder's grin stretched. "You'll know, son... You'll know."
To be continued
(If you haven't read "The Dusk of Macabre" by Aswin Das. Read it for further understanding of the novel as both the novels exist in the same universe)