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Arc 1 - Blind Faith
Blind Faith - Feel
Written by - Ellien S. Vorein
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The market was awake.
Dong.
Voices folded over one another in a dozen languages; laughter, bargaining, the slap of palms sealing a deal.
Dong.
Children carried baskets twice their size, tripping over the edges of rugs.Women threw buckets of water as men scrubbed the stone floors, their sleeves rolled up, the water splashing sunlight back at the air.A cart creaked past, the wheels leaving thin grooves in the dust.Oil hissed in a pan somewhere; the smell of fried dough drifted through the heat.Someone shouted for more salt, someone else for more fire.
The world was full.
The cat moved like a whisper through the market.It slipped between baskets, paws silent against the stone.Fish scales glittered across its whiskers; its green eyes caught every flicker of light.
One stall. One heartbeat. One leap.Its teeth closed around a silver fish.
"Hey! You again?!" the merchant shouted.
The cat froze for half a second—then bolted.
It darted through the crowd, tail cutting the air like a ribbon.Children laughed and pointed. Someone tried to grab it; someone else cheered it on.The man ran after it, apron flapping, boots striking against cobblestone.
"Stop, thief!"
The cat turned sharply down a narrow alley, vanishing into shadow.The noise of the market faded behind it.Only the man's heavy footsteps followed.
The alley ended in a wall.The cat stopped.Its ears lowered, tail curling tight against its legs.The fish still hung from its mouth, trembling between its teeth.
The man appeared at the mouth of the alley, panting, his shadow stretching long behind him.He took a slow step forward.The cat backed away until it touched the wall.
"You think you can steal from me, huh…?" he said, voice low, almost teasing.
He raised his hand.The cat flinched, eyes wide.
And—
He placed his hand gently on its head.
"You can steal from me any time," he said softly. "You're welcome any time."
The cat blinked.For a moment it stayed still, confused.Then it pressed its face against his palm—hesitant, then firmer—headbutting his hand with small, clumsy nudges.A rough purr rumbled up from its chest.
The man chuckled under his breath."Thief," he whispered again, smiling.
He crouched beside it, scratching gently behind its ears.The cat purred louder, eyes half-closed, the fish forgotten at its paws.The market sounds returned somewhere beyond the alley—soft, distant, safe.
- - -
It began to snow.No longer was it wet and damp.The air remembered winter before anyone else did.
Laughter.Faran's voice.Elyra's smile.The warmth of sunlight brushing against Kairo's black sleeve.
A single snowflake landed on it.Snow?
He blinked, watching another drift down, then another.Within seconds, the air turned pale.
Why is it snowing? In this season?
The mercenary stood beside them, posture relaxed but weathered by travel. His hair was dark brown, tied loosely in a low ponytail that reached the top of his back. Strands slipped free whenever the wind moved, brushing against a face lined more by exhaustion than age. His eyes were grey — steady, calm, the kind that didn't reveal what they'd seen.His coat was rugged and faded at the seams, the colour long lost to sun and dust. The boots on his feet were thin, cracked near the soles, yet he wore them without complaint.
"Mr Faran," Elyra said softly.Faran smirked. "Mister? Why so formal?"
Red Weavers…? Kairo's thoughts tangled as he absently ran his fingers along his black suit sleeve.
Elyra giggled faintly as she twirled a strand of her pink wavy hair between her fingers."You just give off that wiseness, I guess."
Faran laughed. "You can call me whatever you want."
Snow…?
The snow was getting thicker.He stared upward, confused.
Snow… I don't get it.
"Hey, Kairo," Elyra called.He turned toward her. "Uh — yeah? What is it?"
"Do you—" she started.
Silence.
He blinked.
Elyra wasn't there.Faran wasn't there.
Only snow.Thick.Heavy.Endless.
The world faded into white — not slowly, not gently —but as if everything had been erased in an instant.
The sound of laughter… gone.The warmth of the sun… gone.The grass beneath his boots… gone.
There was no horizon.No edge.No direction.
Just the slow, perfect fall of snow into itself.
Kairo exhaled — a shaky cloud of fog that dissolved too fast.He waited for the wind to answer.
Nothing.Not even air moved.
It was the kind of stillness that didn't feel natural.The kind that made his ears ring just to fill the void.
He lifted his hand — the black sleeve trembling —and watched a snowflake drift toward his palm.
It vanished before touching him.
His chest tightened.
He stepped forward.No crunch.
Another step.Still nothing.
No sound.No resistance.No world.
"Hey…"His voice cracked, the sound small, swallowed the instant it left his lips.
"…Elyra?"
Silence pressed back.Heavy.Cold.
"Faran?"
Still nothing.Not even his own breath seemed to echo.
The snow fell thicker.
He raised an arm to shield his eyes —and the flakes stung like blades, slicing cold across his skin.
When did…When did it get this bad?
His fingers were numb.Bone-deep numb.Stiff and bluish, unresponsive like they belonged to someone dead.
His breath burned in his throat when he exhaled.He tasted nothing but cold.
That didn't make sense.It had only just begun to snow.
…Hadn't it?
He looked around.No footprints.No shadows.No memory of where he had been standing seconds ago.
The storm was absolute.
It felt like he had been here for hours.Not minutes.Hours.
Frozen still before he ever realised.
He opened his mouth to call out again—but the air stole the sound before it formed.
Only the snow moved.Falling.Closer.Heavier.
As if it wanted to bury him whole.
And then—behind him—a voice.
Calm.Soft.Cruelly quiet.
"They are dead."
Kairo froze.The hairs on his neck rose.
The voice wasn't loud — it was calm.Calm, monotone, and far too close.
He felt its breath on the back of his neck — warm, impossibly warm against the freezing air.The contrast made his skin crawl.
Slowly, he turned.
A man stood there.Thin.Pale.Too tall.
His robes — black and white, hanging loose like a priest's.
Snow gathered on his face, his shoulders, his eyelashes — but he didn't react.He didn't even blink.
His eyes were open — too open.Pupils blown wide, almost devouring the irises until there was no colour left.
Kairo's breath shook.His throat shrank tight; he could taste iron on the back of his tongue.
"What…""What did you…""Say?"
Kairo's breath stuttered.
Slowly — as if his body no longer belonged to him — his hand drifted behind his back.His fingers trembled violently, brushing the fabric of his suit.
Cold.Thin.Empty.
No sheath.No weight.No katana.
His eyes widened, pupils shrinking to pinpricks as the truth set in like frostbite.
It's gone.
His chest tightened.He swallowed, but his throat felt locked, the breath snagging halfway through.
He tried again — deeper, louder — but the air refused to move.
The priest didn't blink.Not once.
Those blown-out pupils stared straight through him, unbreaking, unbreathing, unalive.They didn't watch him — they read him.
Kairo's vision quivered.His heartbeat slammed painfully against his ribs, too fast, too loud, like it was trying to escape his chest.
No weapon…No sound…No way out…
The snow pressed closer.The world shrank to two colours:
White.And the priest's impossible black eyes.
He couldn't even tell if he was shivering from the cold —or from the man standing inches behind him…
The priest's lips barely moved.
"I killed them."
Kairo's world fractured.His vision blurred, snow filling his lungs, his heart pounding in his ears.
He stared at his hands, nauseous.The veins looked like cracks under glass.
Faran's voice cut through, light and teasing."Kairo — it's rude to leave a lady hanging, you know."
Elyra laughed softly beside him, oblivious.
The sun was warm again.The air calm.No snow.No priest.
But something was wrong.The silence hadn't fully left. It lingered beneath their voices — a faint ringing only he could hear.The world felt too bright, too still, like it was pretending to be normal.
Kairo turned to Elyra.
For a moment — just a heartbeat —The priest was standing behind her.The same smile.The same eyes.
He blinked again.Gone.
Elyra's face replaced his.Soft. Real.
Kairo's chest twisted.
"Huh…" he muttered faintly.
"Kairo?" Elyra's smile faded. "What's wrong?"
"I… feel…"He stopped. His throat tightened. His hands trembled against his black sleeve."I feel… sick."
He bent forward — gagging — and threw up clear saliva onto the dirt.
Elyra crouched beside him, panic creeping into her voice."Hey — hey, are you okay? What happened?"
He heard a bird somewhere. Or thought he did.
The smell of fairies returned.Soft. Sweet. Familiar.
He hadn't even realised it was gone until that moment — until the air changed again, as if reality itself had exhaled.
Kairo didn't answer.He just stared down at his hands.
The fingertips were pale and raw, as if frostbitten.Flesh stiff, faint blue veins showing beneath the skin.
They shouldn't look like that.Not under sunlight.
There was no snow.No storm.No priest.
Only sunlight.Only warmth.
But the cold never left his bones.