Anir sat in the dimly lit study, still holding his father's diary. His hands shook, his breath shallow. The room seemed to grow colder with each passing second, as though the very air around him was thick with secrets that had long been hidden. His mind raced, trying to comprehend the words that had just been etched onto the fragile pages before him.
The last entry, the one that had gripped him so tightly, began to make itself clear in his mind. "If you are reading this, it means I am already dead." The words seemed to pulse in his mind, echoing like a warning bell. His throat constricted, and he blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the weight of the revelation.
His father had known. He had known that his time was running out, and yet, he hadn't told Anir anything. Not until it was too late. The silence was suffocating.
Anir read the words again:
"The truth is… the ones who killed me are not from this world. I know this sounds unbelievable, but trust me, son, you are next. They want to kill my whole family or anyone related to me, and you're the only one left. This diary holds some secret techniques and powers that no one knows, and the method to go to the other world from which I originally came. Be careful, son, don't get killed."
Anir's mind reeled. His father's words—so cryptic, so impossible—seemed like they came from the pages of a fantasy novel. Other world? What was his father talking about? He had always assumed that their life in A.S.O.D. was just… life. No magic. No monsters. Just ordinary existence in a city of steel and stone. But now, the words on the page seemed to mock that normality.
"Not from this world?" Anir whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. It was the only thing he could say. The weight of it all was too much to process. His father had been murdered by… what? People? Creatures? From another world?
The diary trembled in his hands as he turned to the next page. Each new line of text felt like a puzzle piece falling into place. His father's words grew more frantic, the handwriting messier, as if written in haste. Anir continued reading, hoping for some sort of explanation, anything that would make sense of the madness his father had left him.
"I tried to protect you, son. I've spent years trying to hide this from you, trying to make sure you were safe. But the time has come. They are after you now. You are the last of our family. I failed. I couldn't stop them. The powers I possess are what drew them here in the first place. They're coming for you, Anir. They will stop at nothing."
Anir's head spun, and his heart pounded in his chest. His father had been hiding something. Hiding himself. But why? What had he been trying to protect? And who were "they"?
The room felt smaller, suffocating as the weight of his father's death settled deeper into Anir's chest. How could he have not known? All these years, his father had lived a life of secrecy, and Anir had been too wrapped up in his own to notice. The cracks in their relationship, the distance, had always seemed normal. But now, they felt like warnings.
The last part of the entry was almost illegible, as if his father's hand had grown too weak to continue writing. But Anir could make out a few more words:
"The techniques… the portal… I've hidden everything in places you will have to find. They want to make sure no one survives from our bloodline. The world you know is not the one I came from. I'm sorry, Anir. I couldn't protect you. But now, you must protect yourself."
The room seemed to close in on him. His father, the man who had always been so quiet and mysterious, had been keeping the greatest secret of all. And now that secret was his burden to bear.
Anir closed the diary with a trembling hand. The weight of his father's death pressed down on him, but there was something else—something much heavier. His father's final words had left him with more questions than answers. Other world? Techniques? A portal?
The world he knew suddenly felt like a lie. Everything was different now. His father had died, not just by chance or accident, but because of something far darker and more dangerous.
Anir stood up, his legs weak beneath him. His mind screamed for clarity, for a way to make sense of it all, but he couldn't. He didn't know where to start or what to believe. But one thing was certain: his father had not died by accident. And whoever—or whatever—had killed him, was now after Anir.
His father had warned him. "Don't get killed." The chilling words rang in his ears.
He had no choice but to follow his father's final instructions. To uncover the truth. To survive.
"This…" Anir whispered again, the weight of the unknown crashing over him.
He didn't know what awaited him, but he was about to find out. And he wasn't going to face it alone.