Aidan
"Come," Mr. Albu said, grabbing Aidan's arm and dragging him toward a room.
Aidan's pulse spiked. Was this it? Was the old man about to silence him for good? But no—if Mr. Albu had wanted him dead, he wouldn't have bothered saving him earlier.
They stepped into a dim, cluttered space. Without a word, Mr. Albu knelt and peeled back a moth-eaten carpet, revealing a nearly seamless wooden hatch. Aidan's breath hitched. A hidden chamber?
With a creak, the hatch swung open, revealing steep stairs vanishing into darkness. Mr. Albu descended without hesitation. Aidan hesitated. Every horror movie instinct screamed don't go down there. But curiosity won. Taking a deep breath, he followed.
The air grew thick, carrying the scent of dust, old books, and something metallic. When they reached the bottom, Mr. Albu flicked a switch. A dim tungsten bulb flickered to life, casting an eerie yellow glow over the basement.
Aidan's eyes widened.
Towering bookshelves lined the walls, their spines cracked with age. Scrolls lay haphazardly in crates. But the books were just the beginning.
A massive worktable was cluttered with flasks, beakers, and strange powders in labeled vials—some glowing faintly. Aidan swallowed. This put his high school chemistry lab to shame. Was the old man brewing something illegal?
Then he saw it.
At the far end of the room, a glass jar sat on an oak table. Inside, a ball of light pulsed and swirled, like a tiny star trapped in liquid air. Aidan stepped closer, mesmerized.
"Is that... a glow worm?"
Mr. Albu snorted. "Hardly. That's a soullight—a magical entity, undetectable to ordinary humans."
Aidan stared, captivated. The light moved like a living thing. "A soullight?"
"They were once plentiful," Mr. Albu said, his voice laced with old stories. "Travelers followed their glow, only to wander deep into the jungle... never to return."
Aidan's gaze darted around. The room was full of strange, otherworldly objects—a collection of ancient daggers, a chest bound in iron, and a delicate cage housing a bird-like creature. It shimmered—blue, then violet, then red—before vanishing entirely. Aidan's breath caught. A trick of the light? No. The thing had truly disappeared, flickering in and out of existence like a mirage.
Next to it, a flower pot rested on a stand, its rim wrapped in a golden chain that pulsed faintly. Aidan took a cautious step closer.
"That," Mr. Albu said, "is no ordinary plant." He tapped the chain. A soft chime rang out, and for a split second, the soil shimmered like rippling water. "There's a snake inside. It creates portals between realms."
Aidan's mouth went dry. "A—a portal snake?"
Mr. Albu nodded.
Aidan exhaled, taking in the cryptic symbols on the bookshelves and the massive glass tank half-covered with a dark cloth.
His head spun. "What is this place?"
"My office," Mr. Albu said simply. "I'm a researcher. A collector of mystical beings."
Aidan tore his gaze from the bizarre sights. "You collect them?"
"I rescue them. Most slipped through magical realms and ended up here—stranded, lost, or hunted. I keep them safe from humans."
Aidan tried to wrap his head around it. But everything he was seeing told him it wasn't a fever dream. The bird, the soullight, the portal snake—this was real.
"There's an entire community of us," Mr. Albu continued. "Most people call us wizards." He scoffed. "An insultingly simple term, if you ask me."
Aidan narrowed his eyes. "You're a wizard?"
Mr. Albu smirked. "That explains the rumors about me, doesn't it?"
It did. The town whispered about Mr. Albu—the eerie shadows behind his windows, his unsettling knowledge of things he shouldn't know.
Aidan swallowed. "And that thing outside? That demon?"
Mr. Albu's expression darkened. "Yes."
Aidan hesitated. "Where did you find it?"
Instead of answering, Mr. Albu gestured to a ratty-looking sofa. "Sit."
Aidan eyed the cushions with suspicion. It looked like it had seen decades of use—and possibly a few infestations. But refusing felt rude, so he sat.
Mr. Albu settled beside him, elbows resting on his knees. "There are two sides to this world," he said. "The first is logical—the one people can explain. Every phenomenon is neatly broken down into science and reason."
Aidan nodded, his gut telling him something big was coming.
"The other side," Mr. Albu continued, voice dropping lower, "is everything that cannot be explained. The space between logic. The shadow between what's known and what's hidden. The place where creatures like that demon exist."
Aidan's skin prickled.
"There are those of us trained to deal with it," Mr. Albu said, rising to pour tea from a battered kettle. The scent of herbs filled the air—earthy, warm, with a hint of spice.
"We're raised into this profession," he continued, handing Aidan a cup. "Trained for generations."
Aidan wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic, staring into the swirling herbs.
"You were trained to deal with demons?" he asked softly.
Mr. Albu sipped his tea, eyes gleaming. "Yes." He swirled the liquid in his cup. "And so was my brother."
Aidan lifted the cup to his lips—then instantly regretted it as the scorching tea burned his tongue. He winced.
Mr. Albu chuckled. "It's hot."
Aidan shot him a look. "No shit."
For the first time, the old man actually smiled.
"Anyway," Mr. Albu continued, resting his cup on the worn wooden table beside him, "like I was saying... my brother and I come from a very old and well-known wizarding family. Our bloodline has practiced the arts of magic for centuries. Magic is in our bones, passed down like an inheritance, generation after generation. We were raised in a community that values knowledge of the mystical. But unlike what you might think, we don't harm anyone. We don't interfere unless necessary."
Aidan took another cautious sip, his curiosity piqued.
"But my brother..." Mr. Albu's expression darkened, his fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic cup. "He was—he is—different."
Aidan narrowed his eyes. "Different how?"
"When I chose to leave our community and forge my own path, my brother did the same. Only, his path was much darker. While I focused on research and conservation, he turned to something else. He started practicing dark magic."
Aidan set his cup down, his fingers tightening around the ceramic. "Dark magic? What does that mean? Does he—hurt people?"
Mr. Albu exhaled through his nose. "Not exactly," he admitted. "But he can. My brother doesn't just study creatures of the other realm. He hunts them."
Aidan stiffened, his stomach twisting. "Hunts them?"
"Yes." Mr. Albu's gaze met his. "Demons, to be specific."
Aidan's blood ran cold. He barely processed the warmth of the tea as he swallowed. "How does one even hunt a demon?"
Mr. Albu leaned forward, his voice dropping. "It's not easy. Demons don't just wander into our world. They have to be brought here. Either they come willingly, or they are summoned in places where the veil between realms is thin. And trust me—willing demons are rare. My brother doesn't wait for an invitation. He hunts the unwilling ones."
Aidan felt his skin prickle. "And how exactly does he obtain one?"
Mr. Albu's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "A few years ago, a small community living deep in the valleys of the Himalayas sought my brother's help. They claimed something was terrorizing their people—specifically, their women."
Aidan tensed, his grip tightening on the cup. "What kind of something?"
Mr. Albu took a slow sip of tea before answering. "An incubus."
Aidan's heart skipped a beat.
"There is only one incubus known to exist in the other realm," Mr. Albu continued, his voice grim. "And he's powerful—so powerful that even the Devil himself is wary of him."
Aidan swallowed. "And this... incubus was haunting human women?"
"Yes. But not in the way one might expect."
Aidan's pulse quickened. He had read about incubi before—ancient creatures that fed on the essence of humans through seduction and manipulation. The idea of one actively haunting a village sent a chill down his spine.
"But that incubus," Mr. Albu went on, "had stopped preying on humans long ago. He had adapted to the modern world, where human indulgence in pleasure made his work much easier. Lust, greed, corruption—they create an abundance of dark energy. He no longer needed to seduce or torment. He could extract what he needed without even revealing himself."
Aidan shuddered.
"So when my brother heard about this demon afflicting the village women, he knew something was wrong. He knew he had to investigate."
Aidan pulled his legs up onto the couch instinctively, suddenly afraid that something might grab him from underneath. "And what did your brother find?"
Mr. Albu's gaze flickered with something unreadable. "The incubus was trying to impregnate a woman."
Aidan's breath caught in his throat. "Why?"
"Because his time is nearly up," Mr. Albu murmured. "He has been alive for more than eight centuries. And now, he wants to leave his kin behind."
Aidan felt a deep, bone-chilling unease settle in his gut. His fingers trembled slightly around his cup.
"Did he succeed?" he whispered.
"A lot of women miscarried," Mr. Albu said, his voice carrying the weight of something grim. "Others... were forcefully aborted before they could carry the demon child to term."
Aidan felt his stomach churn. The idea of an incubus forcing itself upon unsuspecting women, leaving them to suffer, made his skin crawl.
"But one woman," Mr. Albu continued, "was rescued by my brother."
Aidan's head snapped up. "Rescued? You mean—he let the demon grow inside her?" His voice rose slightly, disbelief dripping from his words.
Mr. Albu didn't flinch. "He offered to take the child away from her once it was born. And she agreed."
Aidan's breath hitched. He struggled to process it. "He wanted the incubus to be born?" He felt sick at the thought. It wasn't that he wanted to condone killing a child—any child—but this wasn't just any child. This was a demon. A creature that shouldn't even exist in this world. And yet, his brother had saved it.
"Yes," Mr. Albu confirmed, his voice flat. "Vittal had his own motives. He promised the tribe's chief that he would kill the demon—but he lied."
Aidan frowned. "Then why did he keep it?"
Mr. Albu didn't answer right away. He exhaled through his nose, then got up, gathering the empty teacups. The slight tremor in his hands didn't go unnoticed. When he returned, he looked... drained, as if the memory itself had worn him out.
"Vittal," he said at last, his voice quieter, "wants to be immortal."
Aidan stared at him. His mind raced to keep up, but it was as if his brain had short-circuited. "What?"
"There is an ancient ritual," Mr. Albu went on, rubbing his temples. "If one consumes the heart of a fully grown incubus during a lunar eclipse, they gain immortality."
Aidan's breath left him in a rush. "What the hell?" He nearly choked on his own disbelief. "Your brother has to be crazy."
Mr. Albu let out a mirthless chuckle. "He has always been that way."
Aidan felt his body tense. He had assumed Mr. Albu's brother was dangerous—hunting demons and practicing dark magic was already alarming enough—but this? This was something else entirely.
"How did you get hold of the incubus from your brother?"
Mr. Albu leaned back against the old sofa, rubbing a hand over his face before answering. "For a while, everything was fine. The incubus was young, just a child—no different from a normal human boy. He lived, he breathed, he laughed. But as he grew older... the demon in him started to awaken."
Aidan swallowed.
"Puberty," Mr. Albu murmured. "That's when it began. The incubus side of him started taking over. He became stronger—more unpredictable. Vittal could no longer keep him under control."
Aidan's fingers curled into the fabric of his jeans. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest, but at the same time, he couldn't stop himself from listening.
"He grew powerful," Mr. Albu continued, his voice growing heavier with each word. "More powerful than Vittal had anticipated. He has the potential to surpass even his father."
Aidan's heart pounded against his ribs. "And then?"
Mr. Albu sighed, his gaze distant. "The tourists in the Nama Valley of the Himalayas—where my brother had been keeping the boy—started disappearing."
Aidan's breath hitched.
"They were found months later," Mr. Albu said, his tone grim. "Dead. Their bodies preserved, untouched by decay. And yet, the cause of death? Unknown."
"The incubus was killing people?" Aidan's voice came out hoarse, his throat dry as the realization settled like a heavy stone in his gut.
"Yes," Mr. Albu confirmed, his expression grim. "He couldn't help himself. It's in his nature—to consume people's souls through their lust. He was too naive to understand what he was doing, acting purely on instinct. My brother knew something was wrong when the demon started disappearing from the house at odd hours. His personality shifted. He became... different."
Aidan swallowed, gripping his knees, an eerie chill running down his spine. "Different how?"
Mr. Albu leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His voice dropped lower, almost as if he were afraid of being overheard. "He changed—physically, mentally, everything about him. One night, his body transformed almost entirely. His eyes became hypnotic, impossible to look away from, holding people in a trance. His physique—" He let out a humorless chuckle. "—let's just say he looked like something out of ancient mythology. The body of a Greek god carved from marble. His scent turned intoxicating, his voice dripped with allure, and his very presence became magnetic. Anyone who looked at him, who heard him speak, wanted him. They followed him willingly, too spellbound to resist."
Aidan's stomach twisted.
"He didn't even know he was killing them," Mr. Albu continued, his jaw tightening. "With every act, with every encounter, their life force drained away, leaving behind empty husks. And he... he got addicted to it. Incubi are like that. The first taste is all it takes."
Aidan felt a wave of nausea hit him. "So, he sneaked out to find partners?"
"Yes," Mr. Albu confirmed. "His hunger grew insatiable with every soul he consumed. Each victim made him stronger, but it also made his desires spiral further out of control. He became reckless. He left bodies behind. When people started disappearing in Nama Valley, the local authorities launched an investigation. That's when my brother realized things were getting out of hand."
Aidan clenched his fists. "So he called you to take the demon away?"
Mr. Albu shook his head, a dark look crossing his face. "I wish he had. Instead, he tried to handle it himself." He paused before saying, "He cut off the incubus's horns."
Aidan's eyes widened. "He had horns?"
"Yes."
Aidan's mind reeled. He had seen the man in question earlier that night. The stranger hiding somewhere in the shadows... had horns?
Mr. Albu continued, "Incubi have three main sources of power—their horns, their tail, and their wings. They can conceal them from normal human eyes unless they choose otherwise."
Aidan felt his stomach lurch. So that man... that thing... had horns, a tail, and wings?
"Vittal," Mr. Albu went on, "had kept many demons in his captivity before. But the incubus... he never treated him like a mere captive. He raised him like a son because he knew that keeping a growing incubus chained was impossible. Vittal thought he could suppress him, keep him hidden until he turned eighteen. But, of course, he was wrong."
Aidan shuddered at the thought. "And the incubus? What did he think was happening?"
"Imagine his horror," Mr. Albu said, his voice bitter. "One day, the only person he had ever known as a father turns on him. Vittal cut off his horns, hacked off his wings, and locked him in a cage so small he could barely move."
Aidan felt his breath hitch. A cold, uncomfortable feeling spread through his chest.
"He was tortured," Mr. Albu added, his voice laced with something close to regret. "The incubus fought back. One day, he snapped, broke free from his binds, and nearly killed Vittal. My brother barely survived the attack. That was the breaking point. That's when he finally called me for help."
Aidan swallowed. "And he asked you to kill the incubus?"
"No." Mr. Albu's expression turned grim. "He asked me to help him forge a Circulum."
Aidan blinked. "A what?"
"A ring," Mr. Albu explained. "A magical artifact that would give him complete control over the incubus." He exhaled, rubbing his temples. "When I finally saw the incubus for the first time... I was horrified."
Aidan leaned in, heart pounding.
"He was barely alive," Mr. Albu murmured. "Bruises covered his body. His skin clung to his bones from starvation. His once-magnificent wings? Gone. His horns? Gone. And despite it all, he still glared at us with a hatred so fierce it sent shivers down my spine."
Aidan stared at him, unable to speak.
"Vittal called me not just for the Circulum," Mr. Albu admitted. "He called me because the incubus was dying. And Vittal didn't want him dead. Not yet."
Aidan's voice came out as a whisper. "Because he had to be eighteen before his heart could be harvested."
Mr. Albu nodded.
Aidan sucked in a sharp breath. His body was tense, his fingers ice-cold. He had thought he had heard the worst of it. But this?
This was a nightmare.
"I couldn't stand to see the state of the incubus," Mr. Albu said, his voice tight with restrained emotion. "And I definitely couldn't let my brother exploit him for his own selfish gain. So, I did the only thing I could." He exhaled sharply. "I rescued him. And we ran."
Aidan frowned. "But you don't treat him any better," he argued, glancing toward the backyard where the incubus was still bound to the tree. "He's chained up like some kind of wild animal."
Mr. Albu's eyes darkened. "And do you prefer I let him loose to wander the streets, killing people?"
Aidan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He didn't have an answer to that.
Mr. Albu continued, his voice laced with exhaustion. "I have to keep his horns and wings trimmed, Aidan. If I don't, he'll use his powers against me. I can't let that happen. He's already stronger than most humans, and without these precautions, he could kill me in an instant." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'm trying to help him. I'm teaching him how to control his instincts, to understand what it means to resist his urges instead of giving in to them." His expression softened, though his eyes remained sharp. "He was raised as a human, which means there's still a chance. His demon nature hasn't completely overtaken him yet, and that's a good thing. If I can humanize him—make him see the consequences of his actions—maybe one day, I'll be able to set him free."
"How old is he now?" Aidan asked.
Mr. Albu sighed. "It's hard to say. Incubi age differently than humans. He reached the equivalent of eighteen human years in just six years. If we go by that rate, he'd technically be around thirty-four now."
Aidan frowned. "But?"
"But Incubi stop aging once they reach their prime—around twenty-one," Mr. Albu explained. "At that age, they're at their peak physically, mentally, and... sexually." His voice dipped, and he shot Aidan a pointed look. "Once they reach that stage, their bodies stop maturing. They stay that way forever."
Aidan remained silent for a long moment, absorbing his words. Then, he sighed. "Did you try talking to him?"
Mr. Albu let out a humorless chuckle. "Many times." His jaw clenched. "He listens, but he doesn't speak. I don't know how much he understands. What he went through in my brother's captivity—it broke him. His mind, his emotions, his ability to trust... all of it was shattered. I don't think he believes me when I say I want to help him."
Aidan furrowed his brows. "But he knows how to talk, right?"
"Yes," Mr. Albu confirmed, his voice quieter now. "But I've never heard him utter a single word."
Aidan hesitated, then said, "Maybe we should try talking to him again."
Mr. Albu groaned, running a hand over his beard in frustration. "Look, Aidan..." His expression hardened, his patience running thin. "I shouldn't have told you all of this. I don't need your help, and I don't want your help. This is not something you should get involved in. So be smart—go home."
Aidan opened his mouth to argue, but before he could speak, Mr. Albu grabbed his shoulder and firmly guided him toward the basement exit.
"The sun is coming up soon," he muttered. "I need to put him in the basement before it does. Don't make my job harder. He's already agitated by your presence."
Aidan's gaze flickered back toward the backyard. The incubus was still there, bound by a chain to the thick tree trunk, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. Mr. Albu kept talking, rambling about danger and how Aidan had already ruined his night, but Aidan wasn't listening anymore.
Instead, he took a slow, hesitant step forward.
The incubus lifted his head.
Aidan froze.
The demon's eyes glowed in the darkness, like shining silver through the shadows. Slowly, he rose to his feet—no sudden jumps, no erratic movements. This time, he moved deliberately, each step fluid and purposeful. He walked toward Aidan with a kind of effortless grace, his bare feet barely making a sound against the damp earth.
Aidan sucked in a sharp breath.
In the dim light, he could see how unnaturally tall the incubus was. His limbs were long, his frame lean but unsettlingly bony. His hip bones jutted out sharply, his stomach was sunken, his ribs faintly visible beneath his pale skin. And yet, despite his frail appearance, there was something undeniably powerful about him. His presence was overwhelming.
And his eyes—those eerie, glowing eyes—held Aidan in place, paralyzing him on the spot.
The incubus tilted his head, the corners of his lips curling into something that was almost a smile.
Aidan wanted to move. He needed to move. But he couldn't. It was like his body had stopped listening to him. His breath came shallow, his skin prickling with an unfamiliar sensation—something warm, something dangerous.
Then—
A sudden force yanked him backward.
Aidan stumbled as Mr. Albu grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away from the incubus's reach. "Don't look into his eyes, you stupid boy!" he snapped.
Aidan sucked in a breath, his mind snapping back to reality. His body tingled all over, his heart hammering in his chest.
Mr. Albu scowled. "Go home, Aidan. Now."
Aidan swallowed hard. He cast one last glance at the incubus, who was still standing there, watching him with that same unreadable expression.
Then, reluctantly, he turned away.
He muttered a quick, half-hearted goodbye and left Mr. Albu's property, the image of those glowing eyes still burned into his mind.