Anir sat in the dimly lit study, the open diary spread before him. He had spent the better part of the afternoon studying the complex techniques his father had left behind, trying to make sense of the cryptic instructions. The words danced in his mind, forming an impossible puzzle. He had already tried to perform a few of the techniques—the Void Step and the Astral Binding—but each attempt had ended in failure. His body just wasn't responding to the instructions as his father's had.
His fingers moved shakily over the pages, his frustration mounting. He wasn't sure why it was so difficult—after all, his father had mastered these techniques, and he had left them to Anir for a reason. Maybe he wasn't strong enough yet. Maybe he wasn't focused enough.
"Maybe I need a break," he muttered to himself, standing up and stretching his stiff muscles. His stomach growled loudly, a reminder that he hadn't eaten all day. He left the study and walked toward the kitchen, hoping for a quick meal to clear his head.
As he was preparing a simple sandwich, Anir's mind replayed everything he had learned so far. His father's death, the diary, the warning about the other world—it all seemed so unreal. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more certain he became that something far greater was at play. His father's last words about enemies from another world, and the strange techniques Anir was now trying to master, felt like pieces of a much larger puzzle.
But just as he was about to take his first bite, he heard a sharp knock at the door.
Anir froze, the sandwich halfway to his mouth. He hadn't been expecting anyone. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. It was late, well past dinner time.
The knock came again, louder this time, followed by a voice from the other side.
"Is this Anir, Vratra's son?"
Anir's heart skipped a beat. Vratra Asterio. His father's name. He hadn't heard anyone refer to him by that name in years. And to have someone knock on his door at this hour, calling out his father's name—something didn't sit right.
As the words echoed in his mind, Anir suddenly realized something. His father's name, Vratra, sounded odd, even strange, now that it was being spoken by someone else. He hadn't thought much about his father's full name before, but now, in this unexpected moment, it felt out of place. The doubts he had pushed to the back of his mind, the suspicions that had crept in while reading the diary, began to fade. Perhaps they had been mere fleeting thoughts after all. This person knew his father's name, which meant they knew something real about him, and that couldn't be dismissed as fantasy or lie.
Anir swallowed hard. "I'm not Anir," he called out, trying to steady his voice. "I'm... I'm someone else."
There was a pause on the other side of the door. Then the voice returned, this time with a hint of confusion.
"Then who are you?" the person asked.
Anir quickly scrambled for an excuse. "I'm... I'm a neighbor," he said, his mind racing. "I live next door. My name is Roderick."
The silence stretched on, each second feeling longer than the last. Anir's heart pounded in his chest. Had he said enough to convince the person?
Finally, the sound of footsteps retreated down the hallway, and the voice called out one last time, "Sorry for the mistake."
Anir held his breath, listening for any more movement, but there was nothing. After a few tense moments, he finally let out the breath he'd been holding and relaxed his grip on the door. He hadn't recognized the voice, and the way the person had reacted made it seem like they hadn't been sure of their target. It was over.
Anir quickly locked the door behind him and retreated back into the safety of his home. His pulse was still racing, but the unease slowly began to melt away. Whoever that had been, it was nothing to worry about.
After a few minutes, he returned to the kitchen and finished his sandwich, trying to push the strange encounter out of his mind. But the more he thought about it, the more he began to question the timing. Why had someone knocked at this hour, of all times? Who would come to the door and mention his father like that?
Shaking off the feeling of unease, Anir returned to the study. He decided to leave the mystery of the visitor for another time. There were more pressing matters at hand. The diary had given him a path forward—a way to unlock his father's powers—and he needed to focus on that.
Anir sat down at the desk again, the diary open before him. His fingers hovered over the pages as he glanced at the instructions, his mind still in a whirl from the encounter at the door. He wasn't sure if he was ready to try again, but he had no choice. He had to. Whatever was coming next, he needed to be prepared.
The night stretched on, filled with uncertainty, but Anir didn't stop. He couldn't afford to.