Daniel was crawling through the suffocating fog yet again, his golden scales glinting faintly in the dim, shifting light.
Each movement felt agonizing, his clawed fingers dragging through the cold, unyielding earth. His right arm was gone, replaced by a grotesque stump of smooth, grey flesh that seemed both alien and horrifyingly organic.
Every sound felt amplified—the scrape of his claws against the dirt, the thunderous pounding of hooves behind him, and the guttural, mocking bellow of the black reindeer.
"You can't escape, abomination!" the beast roared, its twisted antlers gleaming like jagged obsidian against the swirling fog. Its red eyes burned with malice, piercing through the haze and locking onto him with a predator's focus.
Daniel's breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving with exertion and fear. He didn't dare look back again. He could feel the beast's hot, rancid breath washing over him, a suffocating wave of decay and death.
His single arm clawed at the ground, the sharp appendages of his fingers digging into the earth as he fought to move forward. His wings—golden, fragile, and broken—dragged uselessly behind him, their delicate membranes torn to shreds. Every scrape of his ruined body against the ground sent jolts of pain through him, but he pushed on, driven by sheer desperation.
The fog around him felt alive, twisting and curling like sentient tendrils, whispering cruel truths into his ears. Monster. Abomination. You don't belong.
"[I... don't want to die,]" Daniel whispered, his voice trembling, yet the dual tones of his speech only deepened the dread coiling in his chest.
"You were never alive to begin with," the reindeer sneered, its voice dripping with contempt. Its hooves struck the ground with a deafening crash, sending tremors through the earth that reverberated up Daniel's broken body.
Ahead of him, the ground abruptly vanished into a void of swirling mist. There was nowhere left to go. His trembling hand hovered over the edge, and for a fleeting moment, he considered letting himself fall, ending the torment.
But the reindeer's breath was upon him now, fetid and suffocating. Daniel's body froze as the creature loomed over him, its antlers descending like a twisted crown of despair.
"You'll never escape," the beast growled, its voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the air itself.
Then, a hand reached through the fog, slender and pale. Its gentle touch wrapped around Daniel's clawed fingers, freezing him in place.
The reindeer's bellow faded into the background as a voice, sweet and soothing, pierced through the oppressive weight of the fog:
"It's alright, Daniel. You're safe now."
The words washed over him like a balm, filling him with an inexplicable warmth.
"You don't have to be scared. You're not alone anymore," the voice continued, its tone laced with quiet conviction.
Daniel clung to the hand as though it were his lifeline, and for a moment, he felt the despair ebb away.
Then his eyes snapped open, his chest heaving and his breath ragged as though he'd been running for miles.
The fluorescent lights above cut through his blurry vision like needles. He blinked rapidly, trying to ground himself, the suffocating remnants of the fog in his dream still pressing against his mind.
His heart thundered in his chest, and his breath caught as his gaze focused. Inches away was her face—the face.
The girl was sitting at his bedside, her expression etched with concern as her emerald eyes searched his. Her delicate features were illuminated by the hospital's sterile lighting, her full lips slightly parted as if she had been mid-sentence.
Her voice came softly, like a melody weaving through the air. "Hey, you're awake... How are you feeling?"
For a moment, Daniel couldn't speak. His throat constricted, the sound of her voice still echoing in his ears like a hauntingly beautiful refrain. He stared, transfixed at the soft curve of her jawline.
He swallowed hard. "I... I'm fine."
"You seemed like you were having a bad dream. You were tossing and turning," she said gently, her voice tinged with genuine worry.
Daniel blinked, snapping out of his reverie. "I… yeah," he murmured.
Kira tilted her head slightly, her brows knitting. "Do you... want to talk about it?"
Daniel hesitated, his lips parting but no words forming. The memory of how his teachers and Doctor Aksel had dismissed his retelling of the accident replayed in his mind like a cruel joke. Would she also look at him with that veiled skepticism? Would she think him delusional?
A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips. "No. It's fine."
Kira waved her hands quickly, flustered. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. You don't have to—"
"It's fine," Daniel interrupted softly. "It was about the accident."
Her expression shifted, her emerald eyes clouding with a quiet sadness. "I'm sorry, Daniel. That must be... really hard."
The sincerity in her tone caught him off guard, and he glanced up at her, then he glanced away, trying to suppress the strange heat rising in his chest.
"I have them all the time," he mumbled.
"You're strong," Kira's smile returned, small but radiant. "You'll get through this. I know you will."
Her words, paired with the gentle curve of her lips, hit Daniel like a tidal wave. His senses sharpened involuntarily, the faint jasmine scent of her perfume mixed with the warm, natural scent of her skin filling his nostrils. His chest tightened, his heart pounding so hard it drowned out the ambient sounds of the hospital.
"I… uh…" he stammered, his voice trembling slightly. "Thank you..."
A silence settled between them, not uncomfortable but charged with an unspoken tension. Daniel found himself unable to look away from her, his mind a chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions he couldn't quite decipher.
Over the past few days, Kira had visited every day. Sometimes, Maxuel accompanied her, other times Ethan came along, but Kira had always been there.
At first, their interactions had been awkward. Kira's presence unsettled him in ways he couldn't explain. It wasn't just her beauty or the fact that he could see her face—there was something familiar about her, a lingering connection he couldn't place.
And yet, as the days passed, the awkwardness began to fade. Their conversations grew more natural, her gentle demeanor putting him at ease. She would ask about his therapies, his thoughts on leaving the hospital, or share lighthearted anecdotes about her twin brother, Ethan.
Daniel found himself growing more comfortable with her presence. He still felt a strange, unshakable tension when she was near, but it was mingled with something else—a budding sense of trust.
He cleared his throat and looked around, his gaze landing on the mostly bare room. "Where's Max and Ethan?" he asked, eager for a distraction. "Did they step out?"
Kira's eyes suddenly widened comically. She looked away, hesitated, then bit her lip and replied, "Actually… I came alone."
Surprise flickered across Daniel's face. "Alone?"
She nodded, her cheeks dusted with a faint blush. "I thought they'd already be here, but I didn't want to wait… I just... wanted to see you."
Her voice trailed off, but her words reverberated in Daniel's ears, yet for the first few moments, he couldn't process them.
She had come just to see him?
His mind whirled, the strange heat in his chest morphed into a fluttering sensation. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kira filled the silence first.
"So, how do you feel? Finally leaving the hospital after all this time?" she asked, her tone light and teasing.
Daniel blinked. "Relieved, I guess. It's been… exhausting."
She smiled, leaning forward slightly. "Excited to go home?"
"I am," he admitted, though the truth was more complicated than that. He wasn't just leaving the hospital—he was stepping back into a world that had always rejected him.
Kira giggled. "Bet you've missed a lot, huh? School, home-cooked meals, video games… Oh, and probably not the homework, though!"
Daniel chuckled softly at her humor. "Yeah… Not the homework."
A cool sort of silence descended the room after his reply. Daniel found himself relaxing, though he remained acutely aware of her presence, of the way her emerald eyes sparkled when she laughed, of the way her voice seemed to weave a calming melody around him.
But just as he began to think up something to say, a way to key into her note, his heightened hearing picked up distant footsteps and familiar voices approaching.
His head tilted slightly, his senses honing in on the sounds.
"Daniel?" Kira's voice broke through his focus, tinged with curiosity. "Is something wrong?"
Before he could answer, the door swung open, and Ethan burst in. "Yo, Danny! Discharge day, huh? Congrats, man!"
Daniel's gaze shifted to his friend—her twin brother apparently—dressed in his school uniform, as the boy froze mid-step when his gaze landed on Kira. "Wait... Kira? You're already here?"
Maxuel, following behind, also paused, his expression a mix of surprise and confusion. "You came alone?"
Kira glanced away quickly, and Ethan immediately seized the opportunity to tease her. "Wow, you couldn't wait for us, huh? What's the deal? Got a crush or something?"
Kira stiffened slightly, her cheeks tinting pink. "I just wanted to check on him. Unlike you, I'm not always late."
"Sure, sure," Ethan laughed. "Maybe Jake would've appreciated this kind of attention."
The playful comment froze the room.
"Are you crazy?!" Kira snapped, her voice sharp and laced with anger. Her emerald eyes flared, and for the first time, Daniel saw a fierceness in her that startled him.
Ethan blinked. "What? I was just joking—"
"Hey hey, chill," Maxuel quickly stepped between them, his tone firm. "How many times do I have to remind you that this is a hospital? You can knock out his teeth later."
Kira glared at her brother for a few moments, then turned away with a huff while he muttered an awkward apology.
Daniel watched the exchange with a mix of discomfort and something he couldn't quite name—a different kind of ache in his chest.
[Jake,] the other voice murmured in his mind.
~~~
The rest of the day passed quickly as his discharge formalities progressed. Maxuel handled the paperwork, while Daniel stood quietly, his thoughts elsewhere.
The hospital staff gathered to bid him farewell. Daniel found himself at the center of an unexpected procession. The nurses and doctors, who had once whispered about him in doubt and discomfort, now showered him with praise and well-wishes.
"You're an inspiration," one nurse said.
"We'll miss you," another added, giving him a quick hug.
Daniel's cheeks burned as a few pecks landed on his cheek, their affection catching him off guard. He smiled politely, though the entire ordeal felt surreal.
Were they genuinely fond of him? Or just relieved to see him leave?
Finally, he stepped outside, the cool breeze brushing against his skin.
The world stretched before him, vast and daunting.
Out here, he would search for the answers that eluded him.
Out here, he would find the truth.