The memory opened softly, its beginning wrapped in the comforting warmth of a lullaby. Roseiral floated through it like a ghost.
Before her, a small home materialized—a modest structure made of aging wood and patched-up cracks. Inside, a young boy no older than five sat cross-legged on a thin, patchwork blanket, gazing up at his mother. She was a beautiful woman, animated with energy as she spun an old lullaby into a bedtime story.
"Once upon a time," she began, "there was a little star who lived high up in the night sky. It was the smallest star in the heavens, but it shone brighter than all the rest."
The boy's eyes sparkled, his attention locked onto her as she continued. "The other stars teased it, saying, 'You're too small to make a difference,' but the little star didn't care. It knew its light was special, and one day, it would guide someone lost in the dark." She ended the story with a kiss to the boy's forehead, tucking him in beneath the blanket. "Sleep tight, my little star. I'll always keep you safe."
As the boy drifted into dreams, the woman stayed by his side, her expression softening. She brushed a lock of hair from his face, her fingers trembling slightly. When she finally stood and turned away, her smile faded as she quietly left the room.
The days were simple and filled with fleeting joy. The boy and his mother shared a bond that seemed unbreakable, their love for one another a shield against the outside world. On sunny afternoons, they would race through the overgrown meadows near their home. The mother always let her son win, catching him at the last moment to lift him high into the air, twirling him as he giggled uncontrollably.
"You're getting too fast for me!" she would exclaim, breathlessness.
When rain fell, they would sit together by the window, wrapped in a thin blanket. She would point to the droplets sliding down the glass, making up stories about their journeys. "That one," she'd say, tracing a finger along the pane, "is racing to catch up with its friends. And that one is taking its time, enjoying the ride." The boy would laugh, he loved this activity.
She'd hold the boy's hands tightly, her gaze searching his face as though committing every feature to memory. "Promise me," she said one evening, her tone unusually serious. "No matter what happens, you'll stay kind. Don't let the world change you."
The boy tilted his head, puzzled by her intensity, yet smiled brightly right after. "I promise, Mama."
Everything changed on a gray morning.
The boy woke to find his mother's side of the bed empty. The room felt colder without her warmth. Rubbing his eyes, he called out, "Mama?" There was no answer. Curious, he climbed out of bed and padded through the house. It was unusual for her to leave without saying anything. When he reached the window, he spotted her figure slipping into a neighbor's house, her movements hurried and tense.
Frowning, the boy pressed his small hands against the glass. Something felt wrong. Ignoring the rule never to leave the house alone, he pushed the door open and followed her. Barefoot and still in his nightclothes, he crept closer, his heart pounding. Through a crack in the door, he saw his mother inside, her voice low and pleading as she spoke to a group of men.
"I just need a little more time," she said, holding out a bundle of money. "Please, for my boy's sake."
One of the men laughed cruelly. "You're out of time, lady." Before she could respond, he slapped the money from her hands, sending it scattering across the floor. She flinched but didn't back down.
The boy's chest tightened. Without thinking, he pushed the door open and ran inside. "Leave her alone!" he shouted, his small fists balled at his sides.
The men turned to him, startled for a moment before breaking into laughter. "And who's this little hero?" one of them sneered.
The boy didn't hesitate. He threw himself at the nearest man, his tiny fists swinging wildly. It was over in seconds. One of them caught him by the arm, easily overpowering him. They threw him to the ground, and the blows began. Fists, feet, and jeers rained down on him. Through the haze of pain, he could hear his mother screaming, her voice hoarse with desperation.
From that day forward, the boy's life became a waking nightmare. The gangsters decided they had no use for the mother anymore, but rather than let them go, they kept them as prisoners, their small home turned into a place of torment. The boy and his mother were subjected to relentless cruelty. Days blurred together, each one marked by pain and humiliation. The boy's once-bright eyes dulled, his laughter silenced.
Despite her own suffering, the mother did everything she could to comfort her son. When the gangsters left them alone, she would hold him close, whispering lullabies even as her voice cracked with exhaustion. "I'm so sorry," she murmured one night, her fingers brushing his bruised cheek. "I promised to keep you safe, and I failed."
The boy shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "It's not your fault, Mama."
One night, the mother revealed her plan. "I found a way," she whispered, her voice trembling. She explained how she had loosened the bars on the small, locked window of the room they were kept in. It wasn't much, but it was enough for the boy to squeeze through.
"You have to go," she said firmly. "Run as fast as you can and don't look back."
"But what about you?" he asked, his voice shaking.
She forced a smile. "I'll be right behind you. But you have to go first." It was a lie. Her body was too broken, her legs unable to carry her anymore. But she couldn't let her son stay here.
The boy hesitated, his small hands clutching hers. "I can't leave you."
"You can, and you must," she insisted, summoning the last of her strength to push him toward the window. With tears streaming down his face, he climbed through the gap and dropped into the cold, wet night.
The boy ran through the rain, his bare feet slipping in the mud. He stumbled and fell again and again, his body too weak to carry him far. His ribs jutted out sharply, his breaths shallow and labored. Still, he kept going. The world blurred through his tears and the downpour. Each step was agony, but the image of his mother, broken yet smiling, kept him moving.
The boy sat slumped against the cold, damp wall of the alley, his body battered and broken, his breaths shallow and ragged. The rain had finally stopped, leaving a chilling silence in its wake. He shivered as the morning light broke through the clouds, weak and gray.
His mind drifted back to the lullabies his mother used to sing. Slowly, almost instinctively, he began to hum the soft, familiar tune. The melody wavered, his voice weak and trembling, but the memory gave him a brief flicker of warmth in his final moments.
The lullaby seemed to echo through the realm Roseiral was trapped in, a haunting sound that tugged at her heart. She watched the boy's small, fragile form from a distance, unable to reach him, her chest tightening with every note of his hum. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, unbidden. She clutched at her heart as a wave of grief and helplessness overwhelmed her.
Suddenly, the entire scene began to crack and shatter like glass. The world trembled and broke apart, fragments of the boy's life scattering into the void. A message materialized before Roseiral, glowing faintly against the collapsing backdrop:
[Story Unlocked: The Boy Who Hummed]
Roseiral's tears continued to fall as she stared at the words, unable to process the enormity of what she had just experienced. The fragmented memories that had surrounded her dissolved into nothingness, leaving only darkness.
And then, she woke up.
Roseiral's eyes fluttered open to see a glowing barrier surrounding her. Its surface shimmered with a swirling array of colors, shifting and pulsating like a living thing. She was lying on the ground, her body stiff and weak, as though she had just been through a harrowing ordeal.
Standing just outside the barrier were Ryker, Arvo, Vero, and the rest of the crew. Their faces were tense with concentration, their hands extended toward the barrier, which seemed to be powered by their combined efforts. Symbols floated in the air around them, glowing faintly as they channeled their energy into the protective dome.
"She's awake," Vero said, relief evident in his voice, though he didn't lower his hands.
"What happened?" Roseiral croaked, her voice hoarse.
"You were hit by that black liquid," Ryker said, his tone unusually serious. "It infiltrated your mind. We couldn't get to you at first, so we had to isolate you in this barrier. Whatever it was, it was trying to consume you from the inside."
"It wasn't just consuming her," Arvo interjected, his twin blades glowing faintly at his sides. "That thing was feeding her memories, overwhelming her with fragments of its life. If we hadn't created this barrier, she might've been lost in them forever."
As Roseiral began to explain what she had seen within the barrier, a sharp, searing pain shot through her body, so intense it forced her to double over. The world around her seemed to freeze. Every sound faded, and the colors of the room dulled into a lifeless gray. Her breath came in shallow, panicked gasps as her surroundings transformed into a still and suffocating void.
Her heart thundered in her chest as her eyes darted around. In the far corner of the frozen space, she noticed a figure—small and shadowy, yet unmistakably the boy from the memories. He stood silently near the shelves of an eel-fishing shop, his dark eyes piercing into her with a seriousness that belied his small frame.
"Why?" Roseiral whispered, though her voice barely carried in the eerie stillness.
The boy shook his head slowly, his expression grim. It wasn't a gesture of anger or accusation but one of warning. Roseiral's body trembled as the weight of his presence pressed down on her.
Before she could react further, time snapped back into motion. The frozen silence shattered, and the sounds of her companions' voices rushed back into focus. Roseiral collapsed onto her knees, gasping for air, sweat pouring down her face in rivulets. Her heart pounded so violently it felt as though it might burst.
"Roseiral!" Ryker's sharp voice cut through her haze, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. "What's happening to you?"
Roseiral clutched her head, unable to form words. Her chest tightened, and her breaths turned rapid and shallow. Vero acted quickly, producing a syringe filled with a faintly glowing liquid. Without hesitation, he injected it into her arm.
She flinched as the substance coursed through her veins, turning them an alarming shade of purple for a brief moment before they returned to normal. Almost instantly, her breathing steadied, and the panic subsided. The tightness in her chest gave way to a hollow exhaustion, but her mind began to clear.
"Better now?" Vero asked, his tone calm but concerned as he watched her closely.
Roseiral nodded weakly. "I think so," she murmured, her voice shaky. "I—I don't know what just happened."
Ryker crossed his arms, his sharp gaze not leaving her. "You were fine a second ago, then suddenly looked like you'd seen a ghost. Are you sure nothing's wrong?"
Roseiral hesitated, her mind replaying the image of the boy shaking his head and the frozen moment in time. She couldn't explain it—not yet. The truth of what had just occurred was too overwhelming, too surreal, and too dangerous to share.
She forced a faint smile. "I'm fine," she said, her voice firmer this time. "I think I was just disoriented from being knocked out. Nothing bad happened."
The group exchanged uneasy glances but didn't press her further. Arvo's twin blades pulsed faintly at his sides, as though reacting to some unseen force. Ryker finally nodded, though his eyes held a trace of suspicion.
"Alright," he said, his tone clipped. "But we're not done here. Whatever happened to you, we'll figure it out."
Roseiral nodded, pretending to agree. But inside, her thoughts churned.
Things just keep happening, she thought, her mind racing with uncertainty and fear. The boy's serious expression burned in her memory, as did the feeling of his presence in the frozen void.
Her heart sank as she realized the truth: he's inside me.