Kealen opened his eyes suddenly, waking from a sleep that had brought him no rest. Silence filled his room, thick and heavy, not even broken by the whisper of wind outside. He turned toward the window, and his blood froze in his veins; there was no moon, no stars, not even the faintest glow of distant city lights.
The world outside had sunk into absolute blackness, a darkness unlike normal night, as if someone had poured eternal ink over existence itself. Kealen rose from his bed, his body trembling with unnatural cold. He walked toward the door with stumbling steps, his heart pounding against his chest like a war drum.
He went down the stairs to the lower floor, darkness wrapping around him like spider threads. "Hanabi? Namiru?" he called in a shaky voice, but his words only echoed back from the silent walls as if they belonged to a stranger. There was no sign of the servant, no whispers from the sisters, not even the smell of food that used to fill the place. The house that once bustled with life had become a wide grave.
He rushed to the main door and flung it open, stepping into the street. He froze, his eyes widening in horror. There was no sun, no sky, no horizon. Everything was black, even the air itself looked like dark smoke surrounding him. No houses, no trees, no life. Just a desolate void swallowing the light.
"Am I in a dream? Or did I die and go to hell?" he shouted into the emptiness, but silence was his only answer.
He started running. Running with all his strength, not knowing where he was going or what he was fleeing from. He cut through the darkness, yet reached no end. The path felt endless, the blackness growing thicker until he felt like he was drowning in it. He stopped, gasping, terror completely taking hold of him. He needed proof that he existed, that he was real.
He raised his right hand and whispered pleadingly, "Release halo…"
At that moment, silver light burst from his palm. The glow was strong and pure, illuminating a small space around him amid the overwhelming darkness. Kealen was stunned; if this was a dream, how could his halo work so clearly? How could he feel the heat of aether flowing through his veins?
He closed his fist and the light vanished, the darkness swallowing him again. Suddenly, a voice tore through the silence, making his body tremble. It was hoarse and wounded, as if its owner's throat had been shredded from crying or screaming.
"Kealen… help me… Kealen… please…"
He stepped back, looking around wildly. "Who's there? Who's calling me?" he shouted, feeling the chill of the voice touch his soul. There was no verbal reply—only action.
Directly beneath his feet, a glowing white circle suddenly lit up in the darkness. Then another appeared a short distance away, then another, forming a straight line of radiant circles stretching into the unknown, like a carefully drawn path.
"Help me… don't leave me here…" the hoarse voice echoed again, as if on its last breath.
Kealen trembled. His mind told him to run the other way, but his heart felt strangely drawn to the voice. Was it Elthra? Or a trap set by this black world?
He took a deep breath and chose to follow the path. He stepped onto the first circle, then the second, walking cautiously across that bridge of light in a sea of darkness, the circles guiding him toward a fate he couldn't imagine, while the voice continued calling desperately.
He began running across the glowing circles, the screams growing sharper and more painful, as if their owner was being slaughtered somewhere in this void. Then suddenly—complete silence. The voice stopped entirely, as though the caller's throat had been crushed or their breath had ended.
He stopped, panting, the darkness almost suffocating him. In the distant horizon, he saw something unexpected: a house standing alone in the absolute blackness. It wasn't unfamiliar—it resembled an old house from his distant memories. A straight white thread of light connected his feet to its door.
He walked carefully, but before his fifth step, the black ground split open beneath him. A huge black hand, deformed and clawless, burst out and grabbed his ankle with crushing force. It wasn't human—just something made of pure shadow. It began dragging him downward, as if the earth had turned into tar swallowing him whole.
He screamed, feeling himself sinking. He tried pulling free, but the hand was stronger than any human strength. In that moment of terror, he gathered all his courage and shouted, "Release halo!"
Silver light exploded from his palms and around his body. The instant the light touched the black hand, it hissed like burning snakes and released him. He leapt away, breathing hard—but the shock wasn't over.
The ground began to shake, and from every direction, massive black dogs emerged, their eyes blazing red, their fangs dripping dark liquid. There were too many. They howled with a soul-shaking sound before charging at him at terrifying speed.
Kealen ran toward the house as if his life depended on those seconds. But the path wasn't easy; black hands kept bursting from the ground, trying to trip or grab him so the dogs could devour him. He jumped over one hand, dodged another reaching for his neck.
When he was only meters from the door, a gigantic hand descended from above like a hammer to crush him. He threw himself to the ground, sliding beneath it at the last second, the strike shattering the earth behind him. He dashed forward, opened the door, rushed inside, and slammed it shut, bracing it with his back.
Violent pounding shook the door, dogs barking and claws scratching as if tearing the wood apart. Kealen pushed with all his strength, trembling and gasping, eyes shut, praying they wouldn't break in. Then suddenly… everything stopped. The barking vanished. The pounding ceased. The dreadful silence returned.
He opened his eyes to look around. The house's interior was strange and terrifying; the furniture, the walls, even the food on the table—everything was completely black, as if matter itself had lost its colors.
The glowing white circles appeared again on the floor, this time pointing toward the stairs leading upstairs. He climbed slowly, and on the second floor he heard chilling sounds—doors opening and slamming shut on their own, though there was no wind.
The circles stopped in front of a room at the end of the hallway. Kealen froze in shock. The door to this room was the only thing in the entire world with real color. It was a beautiful brown wooden door, vividly real amid the black void.
"Am I hallucinating?" he muttered as he approached.
At that moment, the hoarse voice pierced the silence from behind the door, but this time it was calm and commanding:
"Open the door, Kealen… you're very late."
He raised his trembling hand, cold biting into his fingers. He placed his palm on the warm brass handle and slowly began to open the door, fearing what he might see behind the only color in this world of darkness.