THE STRANGE BOY
The place was a living nightmare. The air felt thick, suffocating, as though the sky had swallowed the sun. Every breath I took was damp, clinging to my skin like the cold, sticky walls around me. Shadows seemed to stretch endlessly, and the only sound was the relentless cawing of crows, echoing like a warning of something worse to come.
Then there was the room—a dark, musty cell reeking of rot. The iron bars of the door were coated in rust, and heavy chains bound them shut as if they were sealing away something far worse than me.
But I'm just a child! I may be smart for my age, but what good is that now? I have no fighting skills and no way to break free. I'm too young to train—my father wouldn't allow it. Now I wish he had.
What are they waiting for? Do they think my parents will save me? Is this some cruel ransom? But how would they even find me here? I've heard that tracking teleportation is nearly impossible, yet I'm here lost in the dark, wondering if I'll ever be found.
It's been a month now. Every morning, they throw me a stale piece of bread—barely enough to chew—and I get a cup of water by night. Day after day, I've grown so hollow that I've already given up hope of ever being found.
But then I hear it—the sound of the lock rattling. It startles me. The door is being opened. What now? Are they planning to give me extra food... or finally kill me? At this point, either option sounds merciful.
But the person at the door doesn't move right away. I have to look up to see what awaits me, and when I do, my heart freezes. Standing there is a man with a face covered in scars, twisted and gruesome, like something out of a nightmare. He looks like the gatekeeper of hell itself. His presence radiates a cold, murderous intent that seeps into the air, making my skin crawl.
This is it. Finally, I'm going to die. Anything would be better than staying trapped in this living tomb. I brace myself for the end, but then he speaks, his voice rough and gravelly, scraping the air like nails on stone.
"Get out here, kid," he growls, his face contorted in disgust like I'm some kind of pest he's been ordered to dispose of.
Am I finally going to be slaughtered? It feels like the worst thing they could do, but now it's the best option I can hope for. My thoughts swirl in despair, but then I hear a low, grudging sound escape the scarred man. It makes me look up. He's staring down at me, his head tilted, like he's trying to figure me out.
Without warning, he grabs me—his hand rough, too strong—and hauls me up like I weigh nothing. The cold chains rattle as I'm yanked out of the room. I'm outside, but it doesn't feel like freedom. The air is fresher, but everything else is just as bleak and suffocating as the cage.
Before I can adjust, an unfamiliar woman steps into view. My captor. She crouches down, her movements too precise, like she's rehearsed them. Her smile is thin, unsettlingly fake.
"Little pest," she says, her voice falsely sweet. "My name is Natasha, your new guardian. What's yours?"
Her smile doesn't reach her eyes, and her voice makes my skin crawl. There's something off about her—something dangerous beneath the surface, as if the kindness she's trying to show is nothing but a mask.
"Ivy," I whispered, my voice barely audible, my face still turned down. The only relief at this moment is that I can now put a name to the face of my captor. But as soon as the word leaves my lips, a glowing magic circle forms around me, pulsing with strange energy. My eyes snap up, taking in the scene around me.
The faces that greet me are anything but welcoming. They smile, but their smiles are twisted—evil, dripping with malice. Sinister laughter rises from the crowd, filling the air with darkness that tightens my heart.
I glance down at the glowing circle beneath me; its symbols are unfamiliar, but I don't need to understand them to know what's happening. I feel my strength slipping away, draining with each passing second. My legs tremble, and it's as if the very life inside me is being pulled from my bones.
And yet, even amid the torment, something catches my eye. A boy, standing calmly in the crowd. His gaze doesn't carry the same cruelty as the others. His brown eyes are deep, swirling with a black dot that moves as if it holds memories far beyond his years. There's something strange, something ancient about him. He watches me, unblinking as if he knows something I don't.
He never took his eyes off me, and then, just for a moment, he smiled—small, subtle, like a silent promise that everything would be alright. Somehow, despite the terror surrounding me, I found myself smiling back. But before I could process anything more, darkness pulled me under, and I fell unconscious.
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was his face—the same strange boy from the crowd. He was closer now, close enough that I could finally take in every detail. He was beautiful, in a way that felt almost unreal. His skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, but it was his eyes that held me. They were like mirrors, reflecting a thousand mysteries, swirling with stories I couldn't even begin to understand.
I always thought I was smart, but looking at him, I knew instantly—he was brilliant. More than that, he knows things no one else did. Without him saying a word, I could feel the weight of his knowledge pressing down on me.
But when he finally spoke, his voice, soft and calm, chilled me to the core.
That's when I knew—I was doomed.