A figure, carved from shadow, stood before him.
He couldn't speak. Couldn't move.
His body was tied to a pole, blood pooling beneath him, heat burning into his skin. The roars of the crowd crushing against him, heavy, merciless.
"Die!"
"Kill it!"
"Burn it alive!"
The crowd blurred into formless shadows, their eyes and mouths glowing a sinister blood-red light. Their stares pierced him, as if they could see straight into his soul.
The shadow leaned closer. Its whisper was cold and empty.
"The ruins."
It raised a hand, pointing toward a city floating in the sky beautiful, vast and radiant. Towers of white stone pierced the clouds, streets gleaming like threads of silver. Beautiful. Untouched. Perfect.
Then the flames began.
They spread like veins across the sky, devouring streets, towers collapsing into fire and ash. The city screamed as it fell, crumbling into nothing overnight.
Kayon tried to shout.
Tried to breathe.
But the smoke filled his lungs.
Kayon gasped and sat upright, sweat clinging to his shirt, heart hammering. The moonlight spilling through the window seemed normal but something flickered at the edge of his vision. Shadows, soft and whispering, clung to the corners of the room, and he froze, unsure if he was awake… or still dreaming.
His breathing slowly steadied as the familiar shapes of his room came into focus, the desk, the chair, the window glowing faintly with moonlight.
He stumbled toward the bathroom mirror and stared at his reflection, whispering,
"That dream again…"
The room was silent except for his fast breathing.
Then, from down the hall, laughter drifted through the quiet. It felt… warm, familiar, a tether pulling him back from the lingering darkness of the nightmare.
Kayon froze, letting it wash over him. For a moment it felt like a fragile tether, pulling him back from the lingering darkness of the nightmare.
After a brief hesitation, he reached for the door and stepped into the light.
In the hallway he found his parents.
his mother was hitting his father over the head while he rubbed the sore spot, groaning in protest.
"Ack! Ouch! Woman, that hurt!" his father groaned, rubbing the spot.
"And you bet I'll hit you again, you idiot! Stop telling your son such fairy tales; he's only four!" she snapped, hand on her hip the other clenched in a fist.
"They're not fairy tales! They really happened!" Kayon watched his father, noticing the way his eyes flicked toward his son's pale face frozen in a grimace.
"Besides, this isn't a fairytale, it's horror! Look at him doesn't he look traumatized?" Kayon flinched as his father yelped, wincing at his mother's smack.
"I said stop it! Leave the boy alone! Come on, Kayon," she said, scooping him up. "Mummy's got you. Let's get you to bed."
"Umm… mummy, did that really happen?" Kayon asked, wide-eyed with curiosity.
She tucked him in, blanket soft against his skin.
"No, dear. They're just old stories your father still reads."
The man entered the room, a mischievous smile on his face.
"They're real, my boy. A man discovered a tome in one of the dungeons. So… if you misbehave, the Forlorns will come for you."
Selin's voice cut through the room:
"ALEX LUBAKI GREY!!"
Alex froze, cold sweat forming. "Y-Yes, Selin," he stammered, backing away.
"1… 2…" she counted, a grin tugging at her lips.
"Wait, why are you counting? Come on, relax… you don't want to kill me, right?"
"3. I believe it's been a while since I last cooked for a funeral!" With that, she charged at him with a stick, eyes blazing, laughter and cries echoing through the house.
Kayon smiled at the absurdity, The shadows behind them seemed… wrong. The light bent strangely for a heartbeat. His gaze snapped to the corner… and his stomach sank. Something alive was there, watching him.
Then the laughter froze.
He turned toward the bedroom. His father was frozen mid-laugh; his mother's arm still raised. Black liquid seeped from their eyes, ears, and mouths.
the boy slowly emerged, carrying something… a severed arm. Blood dripped onto the floor,
Kayon's stomach dropped.
He saw the boy's face distorted into an elongated face of mottled gray skin, dominated by an unnaturally wide grin that yawns into a dark void, with hollow, pitch-black eyes like empty sockets.
"The laughter died in his ears. Confusion churned in his chest, twisting into fear, and dread.
"That's… my hand," he whispered, chest tightening, breath shallow.
"Why… why… why? What do you want from me?"
Kayon screamed and jolted upright, heart hammering, sweat clinging to his skin, the nightmare still clawing at his mind.
The room snapped into focus.
Morning light spilled through the window, panic clawed at him as he reached for the bottle on his nightstand, swallowed a pill, and sank to his knees.
"Just a dream… it's just a dream…"
The shadow flickered at the corner of his eye. He stumbled to see it, but it was gone. He sobbed quietly,
The first light of morning creeping in, washing over him.
Slowly, he rose, wiped his tears,
Kayon stepped towards the window under the radiant glow of moonlight and pressed his hands to the window, staring at the city's towering walls. Cold, unyielding, they separated the life inside from the barren ruins beyond. Fear curled in his chest, the nightmares still clawing at him.
Isolation weighed heavy, but beneath it stirred a faint, urgent pulse the urge to escape, to run from the shadows that claimed his dreams. He exhaled slowly, tracing his reflection in the glass.
"I still have these dreams," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
"I'm sixteen… and after twelve years, it still haunts me."
He slapped his cheeks lightly, forcing himself back into control. He couldn't afford to fall apart not now, he thought.
"Right… let's get ready." His reflection caught his eye. The brown of his hair made him flinch like the smoke and ashes from the city in his nightmare.
"Time to darken it… maybe then it won't remind me," he tugged at it,
"I can just say I want it to match my eyes."
Downstairs, Soren and Sera sat chatting, light as angels in the morning glow. Kayon's chest warmed at the sight, a brief reprieve from the shadows of his past that still clung to him.
"Kayon, come on! We've been waiting all morning. Get the food ready we're hungry!" Soren called, brushing her golden-brown hair over her shoulder. She glanced at her twin sister, Sera, as she continued talking with her.
He moved toward the kitchen, setting the table and preparing breakfast. The smells of fresh bread and sizzling meat filled the room, blending with the familiar chaos of our home.
A sharp knock at the door interrupted the morning.
"Sir? Mr. Kayon?" a young voice called. Kayon opened the door to find a man in a Grey Company uniform, bowing low.
"S Sorry to disturb you so early, sir," he stammered. "I've been sent to take you to the office. The vice manager she's worried because you're never this late."
"Who, Zephi? Worrying about me? That's a lie," He muttered, raising an eyebrow.
"Well… she sent me to tell you that, as the manager, you should be at the office by now overseeing things," Derrick replied, his smile betraying his inner motives.
Kayon shook his head, chuckling at Derrick's effort. He seemed to be enjoying himself, trying so hard to look professional.
"Fine," Kayon said, taking off his apron. "Let me finish up here, then we can go together.
"Soren, Sera!," Kayon called over his shoulder. "The food's ready. I can't eat with you I'm late for work. Start without me."
Kayon grabbed a coat and stepped outside, the morning air thick with the familiar stench of the city a strange mix of rotting fruit, meat, and perfume trying to mask the decay. This was home: broken, alive, and somehow comforting.
The walls rose on every side of the street, towering slabs of grey stone that blotted out half the sky. They had always been there, yet some mornings they felt closer than they should, pressing down on the city like a lid on a coffin.
He got onto the carriage and drove to work.
At the company, Zephia appeared. "Good morning, sir. You're late. Did something happen?"
"Just overslept. Nothing big," he replied.
"A client insists on meeting you before leaving," she said, peering at him from the corner of her eye.
"Fine. Bring her to my office once I settle in... and stop looking at me like that do you want me to fall?"
"No, sir. I'm just glad you have someone else now."
He sighed deeply. "Yes thank you, wait!…what... who, what do you mean?"
She laughed and left ignoring him call out to her,
"Hey, come back here! What did you mean?" he called, but she had already disappeared into the distance, her laughter lingering like a ghost.
He shook his head, exhaling, and turned to his office, beginning to organize his desk.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Can I come in?" a voice asked.
"Wait… yes, come in."
The door creaked open. A figure stepped inside, shrouded in a worn black coat. Each footfall groaned against the floorboards, carrying a chill that slithered along Kayon's spine. The faint metallic tang of blood or something else mingled with the sharp scent of wet leather.
The hood concealed their face, yet a pair of eyes glimmered from the shadows cold, unreadable, and a small trail of black liquid slithered down the sleeves. That pinned Kayon in silent scrutiny, flickering fragments of the shadows from his dreams chasing him across the room.
"Mmhhn… sir, are you Mr. Kayon Grey?" the voice quavered, trembling like fragile glass. Only those eyes cut through the darkness, sharp and impossible to ignore.
"Before I answer… tell me who you are," he said, voice steady, though his chest tightened.