My eyes snap open.
I expect to see the usual things I dream about—endless green grasslands, a giant baobab tree at the center, and a little TV surrounded by stacks of video game, movie, and music DVDs.
But instead, I see…
HELL.
EVERYTHING... IS BLACK.
A thick, black mist smothers everything around me. I can barely make out the dead, twisted trees. The clouds overhead are black too, darker than Nero's cursed heart.
And then I see it—a light. A faint, golden light, flickering in the distance.
Without thinking, I dart toward it. My legs pound against the ground as I chase that glimmer of hope. But no matter how fast I run, it slips further away. My breath comes in short, ragged gasps, but something's wrong—I'm not just gasping.
I'm choking.
No—drowning.
I push forward anyway, legs burning, lungs screaming for air. The world around me spins, and my body finally gives in.
It cuts to white.
When I open my eyes again, I'm staring at the sky. Rain pelts my face, filling my wide-open mouth. That's what the drowning was—rainwater.
I sit up, coughing and retching until my throat is clear. My chest heaves as I suck in fresh air, my black, shaggy hair dripping with water. Shaking my head to clear the fog, I glance around.
I'm lying beneath a tree, but something's off. A sound cuts through the rain—the heavy thuds of fists striking flesh.
The noise comes from behind the nearest tree.
I glance down and notice a thin trail of blood snaking through the wet grass. My stomach turns as I hear a voice, weak and broken.
"Help… Ma... Ma... Papa... HEL—"
The cry is silenced by another brutal hit.
My chest tightens as I stumble to my feet, adrenaline taking over. I limp toward the noise, heart pounding in my ears.
What I find isn't shocking, but it still makes my blood run cold.
My father stands there, towering over two boys. One dangles from his grip, held up by the collar like a ragdoll. The other lies pinned beneath his boot, face twisted in pain.
My father's voice booms through the rain, filled with rage and something darker—bloodlust. "HOW DARE YOU?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE? THIS WOULD HAVE ENDED!"
He slams the boy in his grip to the ground, raising his foot to stomp on the boy's neck.
Before I can think, I'm sprinting forward, feet pounding against the mud. I launch myself into the air, my leg outstretched.
My flying kick slams into his chest, and his balance falters. He stumbles backward, crashing into a nearby tree with a grunt of pain.
Panting, I crouch to clutch my ankle, the pain searing up my leg. I must've sprained it sprinting through the rain, but I force myself to my feet.
My father groans as he pushes himself up, one hand on his back. I smirk through the pain.
"I hope I broke something, you decrepit old troll!"
His hand moves to his back, pulling out a bloodied, near-shattered purple laptop—the one I thought was destroyed.
Before I can process it, a deafening roar tears through the air.
"CHCHCHCHCHCH... RAGHHHHHHHHH!"
It's not human. It's not even animal. The sound is otherworldly, shaking me to my core. My knees buckle, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
The roar is so primal, so wrong, I feel an urge to pray—to any god, every god.
The beaten boys jolt awake, eyes wide with terror. The older one—the one who started the fire—scrambles to his feet and runs toward the village bell. The younger one limps down the road, heading for safety.
My father exhales, his face shifting from fury to something calmer.
"Father," I manage to choke out. "What's going on? No—what do we do?"
"Hide," he says flatly.
Before I can react, he's moving. Faster than I've ever seen. His palm strikes my chest, and I feel it—Spera bursting out of my heart with a startled grunt.
Then he strikes again, this time slamming Spera into my forehead. The force sends me flying.
I stagger to my feet, dazed. My father presses something into my hand—a map.
"Go to the X," he says softly. "Goodbye."
I open my mouth to protest, but before I can speak, he pulls me into a hug.
No more words.
I run.
From the top of the hill, I glance back. The black mist has swallowed the village, its bell tolling one final warning. The villagers march in a line, their silent ritual for surviving disaster.
I turn my gaze upward, and my breath catches.
A massive, featherless bird circles above the mist. Its long, twisted neck holds its head upside down, black, empty eyes boring into mine.
It sees me.
I see myself reflected in those hollow orbs—terrified, helpless.
The creature licks its lips and dives, disappearing into the mist below.
I run harder, faster, tears mixing with the rain. The ground quakes, a terrible rumble shaking the world around me. Buildings crumble in the distance, swallowed by the darkness.
Then, as quickly as it began, it stops.
When I return an hour later, there's nothing. No village. No home.
No father.
I am alone.