Some memories should be forgotten forever.
I woke with a weight pressing down on my chest. Groaning, I opened my eyes—and the first thing I saw were a pair of vertical pupils. The demon purred, as if using my chest as a bed was the most natural thing in the world.
"Scram, you ugly wretch!" I shoved it off me.
I scrambled to get off the couch, but the massive jeans I was wearing slid right off. What the hell?!
The shirt was so big it nearly swallowed me whole. I had to roll up the sleeves to my elbows just to let my hands peek out. I must have looked absolutely pathetic, but that was the least of my problems. My eyes scanned the room, but everything felt foreign. Where am I?
Someone must've heard me stirring in the living room because footsteps approached, quick and heavy. I stilled my racing heart, preparing myself. Whoever was coming would regret the day they'd decided to kidnap me. That had to be the answer.
The guy entered and glanced at the empty couch, before his eyes slowly, almost unnervingly, found mine. The shock was immediate—so this guy hadn't kidnapped me after all? A thought flitted through my mind. In any case, I had to find out exactly what happened and, more importantly, who was going to die for causing me so much trouble.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm. "And where am I?"
The poor guy finally snapped out of his shock and looked like he was about to answer. But... no. He could only get one word out.
"Shay..."
"You know me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes as I sized him up. Tall, muscular, with a dumb face and haystack hair. No, I didn't recognize him.
"Shay," he started, taking a cautious step toward me, "what happened? Why did you turn into a child? Are you okay?"
"Don't come any closer," I snapped, and he froze. "I have no idea who you are, but if you take another step, I can't guarantee you'll live."
He nodded slowly, wisely.
"Okay," I said, still tense, muscles coiled and ready to spring, "Now, you're going to tell me who you are and how I got here."
"I'm Alex," he said slowly, measuring my reaction. "And you live here. With me."
A mocking smile spread across my lips. What kind of lunatic is this?
"Funny," I remarked dryly, locking him with an icy stare. "You've got one more chance. You'd better tell the truth."
"But..." He started to protest, but then realized it was pointless.
He took a moment to think, before meeting my gaze again. Hm. He had guts. Not many people dared to face me like that.
"I know your brother," he said, his voice steady.
That caught my attention. "You know him?" I asked, my suspicion growing.
"Yes," he replied.
I could hear his heartbeat. Steady. So either he was a psychopath—or he was telling the truth.
"I'll call him. I'll get him here," Alex said, moving quickly.
"No," I interrupted. "I'll talk to him."
He pulled out his phone, quickly searching through contacts before walking over to the table. He set the phone down there, then stepped back to his original position. Not a complete idiot, I noted.
I grabbed the phone, noticing the contact name: [Crazy Hunter].
Sounds like Des. I pressed the call button.
"What do you want, Wolfie?" came the familiar voice on the other end of the line.
"Des," I began, trying to steady my breath.
There was a long pause on the other end.
"Shay? Is that really you?" Des's voice finally came through, sounding a bit distant.
I narrowed my eyes. "What was my first gift from you?"
Silence again. This was starting to feel off. Des would always know my voice. This felt… different. Too hesitant.
"Does gum count as a gift?" he asked after a moment, which instantly put me at ease.
"Yes," I replied.
"Then the blue Hubba Bubba," he answered, his voice slightly tentative.
I let out a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. Okay. It's really him.
"Des, I have no idea what happened," I rushed out. "I woke up here, and I don't know where I am, and there's this guy—" I started, but he interrupted me.
"Shhhh," his voice softened, like he was trying to keep me grounded. "Calm down, I'll be right there. Stay put until I get there."
"Okay," I said, hanging up. I placed the phone down carefully on the table, my mind racing.
I sat back down on the couch but kept my suspicious eyes locked on the wolf. He just watched me, his expression tinged with worry. Good actor. If I didn't know I'd never seen him before in my life, I might almost believe he knew me.
Then I heard the front door open and close. Des had arrived.
It was him… but not quite. His face was tight with tension, an unfamiliar hardness, but the moment he saw me, it softened.
"Shay!"
In a blink, he was kneeling in front of me, his arms pulling me close. He buried his face in my hair, his stubble scraping against my skin.
"Shay~!" he stretched my name out melodiously, smothering me with his overwhelming affection.
Yep. No doubt about it. This pumpkinhead is my brother. I tried to shove him off me, but he held tight. It didn't seem like I could do it without breaking a couple of ribs—and his heart.
"Let go of me, you bastard!" I snapped.
Just as I was trying to wiggle free, another figure entered the room. He was tall—no, massive—his eyes curious, lips curled into a slight smile. If I thought the wolf was tall, this guy made him look like a hobbit.
"Deni," the giant said, his voice soft but firm, "You really should let the poor thing breathe."
"No!" Des growled, tightening his grip on me. "I've got my charming little brother back! You hear me, Shay? You can't grow up! I forbid it!"
"Deni," the towering figure warned, casting a look at Des, "Let him breathe."
Reluctantly, Des loosened his hold, and I finally had room to think again.
I stared at the guy, eyes wide. I never thought I'd see someone who could have that kind of power over Des. The guy smiled gently, and I turned my head, irritated. I didn't like how it made me feel. Des pulled me back into a hug, lecturing me about how cute I was when I was jealous.
"I'm not jealous!" I snapped, then, just to prove a point, I bit Des on the shoulder. He let out a yelp and quickly let go.
See? I can handle this myself, Tootall.
Des took a step back, his expression shifting to something more serious. "What happened, Shay? What's going on?"
I frowned, my thoughts still jumbled. "I don't know. I woke up, and everything's so… strange. Des, why are you so old?"
The word old seemed to hit Des like a punch to the gut. He crumpled slightly, his voice becoming small and wounded.
"I'm only twenty-three, Ben," he whimpered, "only twenty-three!"
Tootall patted him on the back, offering what looked like genuine comfort. I would've liked to drive my claws into his heart, but I knew Des wouldn't appreciate that, so I contented myself with giving him a death glare.
The tall guy must've seen it in my eyes, because he smiled softly and then turned to me, his voice low and sweet.
"You two were very close, weren't you?"
I frowned, confused by the odd tone. "Why are you talking like that? In the past tense?"
With a somber expression, the wolf held out a calendar, the pen carelessly wedged between the pages. The calendar was riddled with my own notes—work shifts marked, reminders about shopping, and random jottings. Most of the days were crossed out, each mark signifying time that had passed. I shouldn't have felt the weight of a simple calendar. I shouldn't have, but the year still struck a chill in my chest. Twenty-fifteen.
"What are your last memories?" my brother asked, his voice almost hesitant.
"Two-thousand-seven. The last days of May, I think," I said, mulling over the memories in my mind.
Tootall spoke up, his tone tense. "So not only his body, but his mind's reverted back to his ten-year-old self."
Des looked at me, eyes searching. "Don't you remember the last eight years?"
I shook my head, the confusion sinking deeper. "No."
Des's gaze flickered to the wolf, then back to me. "So you don't remember him either?" he asked, pointing at the wolf.
"No," I replied flatly.
Des's fingers slid to the dagger tucked into his clothes. He gripped the hilt, twirling it expertly with his index finger.
"Splendid," he grinned, his voice dark with mischief. "So I can kill him, right?"
Without waiting for an answer, he threw the dagger with deadly precision, aiming straight for the wolf's heart. As always, Des's strikes were lightning-fast and pinpoint accurate. Tootall reached for his gun, but his movements seemed sluggish in comparison. I knew, just as the wolf wouldn't have time to dodge, Tootall wouldn't have the chance to intercept the dagger with a shot—if he could even do that at all.
But to everyone's surprise, the wolf didn't collapse. The dagger hung from a pen that jutted out from the wall, swaying with the force of the throw. For a moment, time seemed to slow. All eyes turned toward me.
Des grinned, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement. "Didn't you say you don't remember this guy?"
"I don't remember," I replied, my voice steady.
"Then why did you stop me from killing him?" Des raised an eyebrow, his grin widening.
I shrugged, unsure of the answer myself. Why had I stopped him? My body had moved on its own, reacting before my mind had caught up. There was something about the wolf—I just didn't want him to die for some reason.
"If you really wanted him dead, he wouldn't still be breathing," I stated, the words coming out clearer than I expected. "You were testing me."
Des's grin faltered, and he sighed dramatically. "And, as always, you saw right through me." His voice softened, and for a split second, there was something almost nostalgic in his eyes. "I'd almost forgotten what an annoyingly clever kid you were."
I gave him a mocking half-smile but quickly dropped it, my expression turning serious. "Why am I ten again?"
The question slipped from my lips before I realized it, and, for some reason, I directed it toward the wolf.
The wolf hesitated, his gaze steady yet conflicted. "I don't know," he said quietly. "But it probably has something to do with a wraith possessing your mind."
"Wraith?" I raised an eyebrow, not understanding.
He nodded. "Yes. They're creatures from the Mirrorworld. One managed to escape into this world and tried to take over your body."
A chill crawled up my spine.
"How do I change back?" I asked again, my voice edged with frustration.
Silence followed. No one answered. And I stopped asking. Without another word, I stood, my feet carrying me upstairs. I didn't need to know any more right then. I entered the room, my eyes scanning the surroundings before I walked over to the bed and climbed in. The bedding had that comforting, familiar smell, but it couldn't ease the knot in my stomach.
I curled up beneath the sheets, trying to process the flood of information I'd just learned. My thoughts twisted and turned, each one darker than the last. How could any of this make sense? How could I be here, again, with no memory of the last eight years?
(...)
Des and Alice sat at the table, the weight of the room pressing down on them. Alex, his back to them, was making coffee, his movements slow, deliberate. He began recounting the events that had led to the present situation, his voice quiet but heavy with regret. He spoke of the necromancer they were up against, the alliance with the Sorcerer Lord, and the ritual that Luna and the other empaths had performed. Des listened without interruption, his face a mask of impassivity. Though no emotion flickered across his features, the air in the room remained thick with tension.
Alex slid the hot drinks in front of them, his face betraying a childlike guilt, the kind that comes with knowing something has gone terribly wrong. Every gesture, every movement screamed of his desperation, as if he were bracing for the inevitable moment when Des, in a fury, would leap up and try to pierce him through with his sword for not protecting his younger brother.
Des casually pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the ember glowing in the dim light. Alex was too stricken with his own turmoil to direct any blame at him.
"The situation is bad, but not as dire as you think," Des said, exhaling a plume of smoke, his voice disturbingly calm.
Alex's jaw tightened, incredulity flashing in his eyes. He whirled around, his temper flaring.
"Not as dire?" he shot back, voice rising in frustration. "Then what exactly is it, if it's not a disaster? How are we supposed to fix this? Do you have any idea how to change him back?"
Des exhaled slowly, fixing Alex with a cold, intense gaze. "I understand you're upset about Shay, we all are," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Which is why I'm going to let it slide this one time that you're speaking to me like that, Wolfie."
Alex swallowed, an uneasy knot tightening in his throat. He knew better than to push Des too far, especially not when the hunter's patience was already worn thin.
"Deni's right," Alice added, but he gave the other hunter a disapproving glance, "The most important thing is to keep calm."
"If you'd been paying attention, Wolfie," Des continued, his tone dripping with condescension, "you might've noticed a couple of things that are pretty damn important."
Alex bit back a sharp retort, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "What?"
Des leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "First of all, Shay wouldn't have saved your sorry ass if he didn't know you. He doesn't do things for no reason. He doesn't save strangers—he's not some hero. Even if he doesn't remember you, there's still something there. His feelings for you, his friendship—it remains."
Alex processed the words, feeling a glimmer of hope stir deep inside him.
"The second thing is," Des went on, "Shay knew exactly where the bedrooms were upstairs and picked his own without hesitation. Those two facts mean his memories of the past eight years aren't gone—they're just buried. He remembers, but either he doesn't want to or can't face them. Most of Shay's trauma happened between the ages of ten and thirteen. The Wraith might've been trying to exploit that. Shay overcame it, but those old wounds resurfaced, and he shut them out. So, he's blocked those memories."
Alex's brows furrowed. "That still doesn't explain how he turned into a kid again," he muttered.
Des took a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing as he thought. "I have a theory about that."
Both Alex and Alice leaned in, eager for any kind of answer. Des took his time, exhaling slowly, letting the smoke curl into the air.
"He didn't come out of the battle with the Wraith unscathed," Des said, voice thoughtful. "Maybe this is the Wraith's revenge. A final strike, a way to punish him."
Alex's gaze hardened with understanding, his thoughts racing.
Des stubbed out his cigarette and stood, his expression unreadable. "I'm hoping that, in time, his memories will return. And if we can figure out what happened during his fight with the Wraith, we might have a chance of getting him back to normal."
It was Rolo's voice that interrupted the uneasy silence. "Shay said something," he said quietly, and Alex's eyes lit up with sudden realization. "The name... Gironde Mehisto. In that moment, I felt a faint trace of magic—the magic of a necromancer, to be exact."
Des shot out of his chair so quickly that it creaked beneath him. His eyes were sharp with intent. He didn't wait for any more explanation, stepping swiftly toward the door, his mind already racing ahead.
As he crossed the threshold, he had no way of knowing that unseen eyes were watching his every move.