Kael's POV
My apartment door clicked shut, sealing me in a silence so deep I could hear the frantic thrum of my own blood. I leaned against the door.
What the hell is going on? What in the world is happening to me?
Ever since Elara died, my world had changed drastically, turning into a nightmare lurking beneath the surface of the pain buried in my heart.
Black-winged demons. A crushing aura that made the air itself freeze in absolute terror. And now this... this... this thing in my hands.
"Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!"
I screamed out loud.
My fingers tightened around the carved wood.
"Who was she?"
I muttered to myself, the words sounding insane even to my own ears.
That goddamn old woman.
Her timing, her gratitude, this box that felt older than the city itself, and lastly, the way she vanished into the crowd after I came out of the trance I fell into. It was too perfect.
"A setup?"
I asked no one in particular.
It had to be.
But for what?
And this box... what the hell was inside?
It wasn't just wood; it was like a soothing, sensational whisper to my soul.
A silence that screamed symphonies of bleeding comfort.
In my mind, thousands of questions circled like vultures, pecking at my sanity.
Demon. Mysterious box. The blue vision.
It was a joke. A bad, twisted joke.
Maybe I was still lying in that alley next to Elara, and this was all some elaborate, dying dream.
But knowing the fact that I'm only just a pathetic, weak human seeking revenge against powers that outweigh anything I can comprehend, a bitter, helpless laugh escaped my throat.
I'm only being delusional after all.
Maybe I had finally lost it.
But the weight in my hand was real. The memory of Arla's indifferent eyes was real.
The box was real.
Everything is fucking real!
This is a tangled mess I couldn't unravel.
A shower.
Oh yeah, I needed to scrub the fucking day off my skin.
"Fuck it."
I pushed the thoughts to the back of my head.
The hot water did little to wash away the feeling of that old woman's grip or the intimidating pressure of Arla's gaze.
I toweled off, pulling on a pair of sweats.
The box, still heavy, sat diligently on my bathroom counter like a tumor I'd carved out of myself. I couldn't leave the damn thing.
Now shirtless, I sank into one of the cushions in my living room.
The box was back in my hands, its dark wood seeming to absorb the dim light.
And for a moment, the chaos receded, replaced by a single, clear image.
Elara.
She would have lost her damn mind over what happened.
I could see it perfectly: her dramatic gasp, her hands flying to her cheeks, her voice pitching high with theatrical fury.
"A mysterious old lady gave you a creepy box, and after that you had a blue-vision trance in the middle of the street? KAEL! This isn't a fantasy novel! This is how you get cursed! I told you not to be so nice to strangers!"
A low, quiet chuckle escaped my lips.
The sound was foreign in the silent apartment. For a sec, the weight in my chest didn't feel like grief.
It felt like missing her.
The chuckle died as my left thumb traced the intricate carvings embedded on the box.
The comfort of the memory faded, leaving only the chilling reality clutched in my hands.
Another memory began unfolding right in front of my eyes
It was quite vivid and warm, washing away the cold dread of the present for just a moment.
>Flashback to 6 years ago<
Elara's high-pitched shriek of pure, unfiltered joy, cut through the crowd.
"KAEL! YOU DID IT! YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!"
I laughed while still trying to catch my breath. "I told you I would. Didn't I tell you?"
Her hands were flapping with excitement
"You said you'd try! You said, "I'll try my best, Elara!" You didn't say you'd smoke everyone in the pool and make that guy from St. Mary's cry! I saw him! He was crying!"
I stood before her, arms akimbo, with a proud grin on my face
"He was crying tears of shame! Because my big brother is a freaking dolphin! A gold-winning dolphin! Look at it! It's so shiny!"
I watched her eyes sparkle with amazement as she marveled at the beauty of the heavy medal held against my chest. "Here. You can hold it."
Her eyes went wide, her bouncing stopped instantly.
"It's perfect. It's the most perfect thing I've ever held. You know what this means, right?"
"That I get bragging rights for a year?" I raised a brow.
"No. Well, yes, obviously. But it means something else. It means you can do anything you set your mind to. You don't just try. You win."
"It was just a swim meet, Lara."
"It's never "just" anything!" She said with a finger pointed to my forehead.
"This is proof! You're my proof that impossible things aren't real. You're going to be great, Kael. I know it. I feel it right here," she tapped her chest firmly with her fist, the medal still clutched in her other hand.
My grin softened into a fond smile. "And what about you? What are you going to be?"
A mischievous, secretive smile settled on her lips. She leaned in closer with her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I'm going to be so strong that anyone who thinks about giving you a hard time will have to answer to me."
"My own personal bodyguard, huh?" I chuckled.
"Damn right! You're the champion, and I'm... I'm your manager! No, your agent! The scary one that makes all the deals!"
"You're only sixteen. What deals are you going to make?"
She puffed out her chest, trying to look imposing and failing adorably.
"I'll make the deals for when you're older! This is just the start, Kael. Just you wait. We're going to be unstoppable. You and me."
"Yeah. You and me." I said, ruffling her hair.
She shrieked, ducking away while giggling.
"Hey! Stop that! Champions don't get to mess up their agent's hair! It's unprofessional!"
I laughed heartily.
"Now, come on. Let's go show Rylan. I bet you my dessert for two weeks that he'll cry once he sees your trophy."
"You're on. But you're gonna lose. Rylan doesn't cry."
"Well, he'll be crying today! He surely would! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"
>End of flashback<
The memory faded slowly, leaving a trail of her laughter behind.
And to think that the bastard Rylan did get emotional.
I chuckled once more.
The weight in my hands was no longer a gold medal, but a box of wood. The feeling of her unwavering belief in me was now a crushing burden.
"You can do anything."
The words echoed, taunting me.
"You and me, we're going to be unstoppable."
A bitter taste filled my mouth. I looked down at the box.
Now it was just me. And the only thing I was set on doing was vengeance.
"Kael..." I heard a whisper.
It was her voice.
My world stopped for a moment as my head snapped up.
Elara stood there, bathed in the dim light.
A soft, sad smile dangling on her face. As real as the air in my lungs.
"No... This isn't real,"
I choked out.
It's impossible.
I slapped myself hard. The sting was undeniably sharp. I opened my eyes.
She was still there.
The box fell from my hand, hitting the floor with a thud. I didn't care.
I took a step forward, my hand reaching, trembling, desperate to touch her.
"My Elara..."
As I was just about to make skin contact with her...
SHIIIIIIING!!!
For a moment, the world turned monochrome.
A blade of pure, venomous onyx energy materialized from nothingness, moving at a speed my eyes couldn't follow.
It was already at my throat.
I didn't see death coming; it had already arrived.
CLAAAAAAAAANG!!!
A shockwave of pure force erupted, blowing out the windows.
A second sword.
No.
A second and a third sword which was blazing with green crimson fire, had intercepted the onyx blade less than an inch from my skin. The sound was the end of the world.
Time stood still as i was frozen on the spot.
I felt trapped. I was like a statue in the eye of a hurricane.
"MALAKOR!!!"
The scream tore through the room.
But it didn't come from me. It came from her.
Elara's form flickered, her features dissolving into a stranger with silver hair and deadly, cruel, ancient eyes. Her fangs popped out instantly.
Standing beside me, his crimson eyes burning with cold fury, was a man I'd never seen.
His two swords were locked against the lady's single blade of onyx energy, holding back an unstoppable force.
The very air was dying.
The room faded to grayscale, the only color the violent onyx of her power and the defiant mix of crimson and green of the stranger she called Malakor.
The pressure was so immense it felt like the planet was being crushed between them.
I stood in the center of it all.
A poor mortal caught in a war of gods.
My throat was dust.
All I could do was swallow.
* * * * *