The boy with striking blue eyes and long black hair casually sipped from the classical white mug in his hand. The liquid inside was opaque, giving Silas no clue as to its contents. Yet, despite the boy's relaxed demeanor, an unshakable sense of authority radiated from him.
"Staring is rude, y'know. You haven't even said hello!" the boy teased, his voice light yet sharp enough to bring Silas back to the moment.
Silas blinked, realizing he had been frozen in place, unable to fully process what he was seeing. At the same table sat two others. One was a man with neatly styled comb-over hair. He wore glasses that reflected the golden morning light, his eyes closed, but his face framed by a calm, almost serene smile.
The other was a woman—an imposing figure that made Silas falter in his step. She was taller than Calem, who Silas had already considered a giant, with a well-defined, muscular yet feminine physique. Her sleeveless dress did little to hide her strength, and her presence was just as striking as her appearance. She noticed Silas staring and quickly looked away, a slight blush rising to her cheeks as she adjusted her posture.
"If looks could kill," the man with glasses mused, breaking the silence. His tone carried an air of amusement. "I must apologize on behalf of Ciel. He can be… rather tactless with introductions."
Ciel. The name struck Silas like a bolt of lightning.
The boy scoffed, clearly unbothered. "Tactless? Please, I'm just efficient."
Seeing Silas' puzzled expression, the man with glasses continued, ignoring Ciel's interjection. "I see he hasn't told you his name yet. Shame on him, indeed." He gave a polite nod toward the boy. "Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Lorian. And this," he gestured toward the tall woman, "is Ayelyn."
Silas took a hesitant step forward, his mind racing as he processed the names. He repeated them in his head over and over. Lorian. Ayelyn. They sounded achingly familiar, but the weight of realization didn't fully hit until—
"Wait…" Silas suddenly blurted out, his voice louder than he intended. "I know you!" He pointed at Lorian, his eyes widening as the pieces fell into place. "Warren mentioned you! You're the one who gave him his power!" His attention snapped to Ayelyn, his pulse quickening. "And you—you created that place. The one that healed me."
Ciel leaned back in his chair, watching with mild interest as Silas pieced everything together. His smirk widened.
"So," Ciel said, setting his mug down, "it seems you're not as clueless as I thought. Maybe this will be more interesting than I imagined."
Silas rubbed his chin, his expression clouded with suspicion. "So… what is this place? A dream? No, that can't be right…" He glanced at the trio seated before him, their presence far too vivid to dismiss as a figment of his imagination. "I don't even know anything about any of you."
Ayelyn raised her hand slightly, as though asking for permission to speak, her timidness catching Silas off guard. "Um… well, this is our home," she said softly, her voice calm but unsure. "You and your group… you just sort of inhabited it."
Lorian adjusted his glasses with a small nod. "That's correct. It used to be ours before—" He stopped abruptly, clearing his throat in a rather forced manner. "Ahem. Well, enough about that. Ancient history and all."
Silas narrowed his eyes. "Right…" He could feel the evasiveness in their words but decided not to push just yet.
Ciel, however, seemed far less interested in subtlety. He stood from his chair and sauntered over to Silas, his movements almost theatrical. His striking blue eyes locked onto Silas' with an intensity that made him instinctively take a step back.
"I've called you here," Ciel said dramatically, pointing at his chest with his thumb, "for a very important job." He twirled around, extending his arm with a flourish before pointing his finger upward at the blazing sun. "You see, there's a place you call Cinderhaven. Inside, there's someone very important. All you have to do is go there, find them, and—well, you'll figure it out. Simple enough, right?"
Silas blinked, his expression caught somewhere between incredulous and annoyed. "Huh? That's it? Why the hell should I do any of this?" He crossed his arms, his voice laced with skepticism. "I don't even know who this 'important person' is! Shouldn't you, I don't know, give me a hint or something? Aren't you supposed to be a god? You're a really incompetent one if you ask me."
Ciel clutched his chest dramatically as though Silas had just pierced his heart. "Oh, the pain! The cruelty! Your words cut deeper than any blade!" He stumbled backward a step for effect before dropping the act with a sly grin. "But seriously, I'm not that incompetent."
Silas rolled his eyes. "Could've fooled me."
Ciel wagged a finger at him, leaning in closer with a conspiratorial smirk. "You wound me again, Silas Grayson. Wound me! But here's the thing—I didn't say you had to go alone."
"Oh, great. I get to bring friends to a mystery destination for a mystery person on the orders of a mystery god," Silas deadpanned.
Ciel ignored him, straightening his posture as he returned to his explanation. "Cinderhaven," he said, his tone growing a fraction more serious, "is more than just a settlement. It's a crossroads, a place where paths converge and fates intertwine. There's more waiting for you there than you realize—answers you didn't even know you were looking for."
Silas squinted at him. "You couldn't have just said that from the start?"
Ciel sighed dramatically, flinging his hands up in exasperation. "And ruin the suspense? Where's the fun in that? Besides," he added with a mischievous smile, "you'll learn best by doing. It's one of those 'the journey is the reward' kind of deals."
Silas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, for crying out loud…"
"Look," Ciel continued, now circling Silas like a hawk. "All you need to know is this: going to the heart of Cinderhaven will change everything. You'll meet people, learn things about this world that'll make you question everything you think you know." He stopped and faced Silas directly, his expression softening slightly. "It's not just about finding someone. It's about understanding why you were chosen in the first place. And trust me, you were chosen for a reason."
The words hung in the air, heavy with a cryptic weight that Silas couldn't ignore, no matter how much he wanted to.
"So," Ciel added, leaning back with a smirk, "what do you say? Ready to embrace destiny, or do you want to keep sulking about how little you know?"
Silas opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it, realizing there wasn't much of a choice. As frustrating as Ciel's antics were, his words had a way of sinking in. "Fine," Silas muttered. "But if this is some kind of elaborate prank, I'm punching you in the face."
Ciel laughed, clapping his hands together. "Fair enough! Though I wouldn't recommend it. You might end up punching yourself instead. This place does have its quirks, after all."
Ayelyn giggled softly, and even Lorian allowed himself a small chuckle. Silas groaned, feeling like he was being dragged into something far bigger than himself.
And somewhere deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.
Silas's legs buckled beneath him, a sudden wave of exhaustion overwhelming his body. He stumbled forward, collapsing onto his stomach with a dull thud. His palms pressed into the ground, and his breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to lift his head.
Above him, the three figures watched, their forms beginning to shimmer and blur, like reflections on disturbed water.
"Oh dear," Ayelyn said softly, her voice tinged with concern. "He's waking up already."
Ciel, ever the casual one, shrugged as he turned on his heel and made his way back to the table. "Well, what can you do? Until next time, Silas. Don't forget about us… or, well, I suppose that's inevitable."
Silas's vision swam, but his mind latched onto Ciel's parting words. What did he mean by 'inevitable'? The idea of forgetting them seemed impossible—implausible even. There was no way he could ever—
His thoughts fractured as everything around him crumbled. The vibrant world of lush greens and radiant sunlight faded away, swallowed by a yawning void of darkness. The figures disappeared, their edges consumed by shadow, until there was nothing left but silence.
Silas felt as though he was floating, weightless and untethered, his consciousness adrift in the vast emptiness. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the darkness gave way to light.
With a sharp inhale, he bolted upright in his bed, his heart pounding as though he'd just run a marathon. The familiar surroundings of his room greeted him—the soft mattress beneath him, the singular desk by the wall, the faint chill of winter seeping through the cracks.
Silas thought desperately about the dream he had, though even calling it that felt wrong. Nothing came to mind. No fleeting images, no fragments of sound or sensation—just a complete blank. It was as though nothing had existed the moment he fell asleep. He felt restless, trying to piece together the fleeting sense of importance that lingered in his chest. What was it? What had he dreamed of?
The harder he tried to focus, the more it slipped away, like sand through his fingers. Silas furrowed his brow in frustration. Was it even a dream? Or something else entirely…?
A distant noise pulled him out of his thoughts. Chattering—energetic and loud—echoed from downstairs, breaking the eerie quiet. It was unmistakably Warren's voice, though it was mixed with someone else's who sounded far more excited. Silas shook off his dazed state and pushed himself out of bed.
He opened the door to his room, his socks brushing against the cold wood floor. Down the hallway to his right was the bathroom, its door slightly ajar. Silas approached, peeking inside to make sure it was empty before stepping in. He turned the faucet on, letting the warm water pour over his hands. The sensation was soothing, pulling him further out of his fog. For a brief moment, he almost felt like drifting back to sleep as the steam curled upward. With a tired sigh, he splashed the water on his face, the warmth revitalizing him as it soaked into his skin.
Satisfied, he dried his hands on a towel before heading downstairs.
As soon as he entered the living room, the sight before him nearly made him stop in his tracks. Ronan was chasing Warren in circles like a hyperactive child, his expression bright and full of excitement. Warren, on the other hand, looked utterly exasperated, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. His body language practically screamed, Leave me alone!
"C'mon! Just one more round! I'm sure I've gotten stronger!" Ronan yelled, lunging forward as Warren dodged with practiced ease.
"Dammit! Stay away from me! That was years ago—give it up already!" Warren shot back, his tone sharp and tired.
Silas blinked at the odd scene before stepping further into the room. "What in the world is going on here?" he asked, his voice cutting through the commotion. Warren immediately turned toward him, his shoulders sagging with relief.
"Man… I'm grateful to see you," Warren panted, clearly out of breath. He leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to catch it. Meanwhile, Ronan crossed his arms and pouted like a child denied candy.
"What's he chasing you for?" Silas asked, raising a brow. "It's barely morning, and you two are already at it."
Warren avoided his gaze, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. He didn't answer, so Silas turned to Ronan instead.
Ronan's lips curled into a smug grin, clearly enjoying the attention. "Warren beat the shit out of me when we were in middle school!" he declared, as though it was the funniest thing in the world.
Silas froze for a second, staring at Ronan like he'd just sprouted a second head. "…What?" he asked, his voice flat with disbelief. He turned to Warren, who stood stiffly, clearly uncomfortable under Silas' scrutiny. "There's no way that's true. Warren wouldn't hurt a fly. Right?"
Warren stayed quiet, avoiding Silas' gaze. The silence only made Silas more curious. "Warren," he said, his tone firm, "don't leave me hanging. Is he telling the truth?"
Warren finally sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "When I was in middle school…" he began hesitantly, "the school I went to wasn't the best. It was rough, and, well… some of us ended up fighting kids from other schools." He paused, clearly embarrassed, before mumbling, "I may have beaten the crap out of Ronan once because he went to a rival school."
"Not just once," Ronan interjected gleefully. "It was eight times!"
"That's because you kept showing up looking for more!" Warren snapped, his voice rising defensively. "I only fought you the first time. The other seven times were your fault!"
Silas stared at both of them, utterly baffled. "Hold on. Hold on." He held up his hands, as if trying to physically stop the absurdity. "You mean to tell me you were a delinquent, Warren? You?"
Warren's cheeks turned red, and he scratched his neck again, clearly mortified. "It wasn't like that," he muttered, refusing to meet Silas' amused gaze.
"Oh, it absolutely was!" Ronan chimed in, grinning ear to ear. "Warren was one of the strongest in the area! He even had a nickname! What was it again? Oh yeah—'The Stone Fist of Argon!'"
"Stop talking," Warren growled, his tone low and threatening, though his face burned even brighter.
Silas let out a laugh, shaking his head. "I never thought I'd hear those words in the same sentence. Warren… a delinquent. The Stone Fist." He smirked at Warren, who groaned in embarrassment.
"Can we just not?" Warren pleaded, clearly desperate to change the subject.
But Ronan wasn't letting it go that easily. "What? You don't want your new friend to know what a badass you used to be?" He smirked mischievously, dodging a half-hearted swipe from Warren.
"So loud… please, quiet down. The others are still sleeping," a deep, rumbling voice cut through the noise like a blade. Silas froze mid-step, the hairs on his neck standing on end as he turned around. Standing in the doorway was a man whose sheer presence seemed to fill the entire room.
Silas's eyes darted up to meet a piercingly dark gaze. His brain immediately went into overdrive, calculating the man's dimensions as if it were some survival instinct. 6'7… maybe 6'8. At least 230 pounds. Maybe 240. In simpler terms, an absolute unit.
Silas instinctively took a step back, feeling like a twig caught in the shadow of a redwood tree. He stumbled slightly, nearly losing his balance, but managed to catch himself before collapsing entirely. For a brief moment, he wondered if he'd accidentally wandered into the wrong house. Was this man part of their group?
"Calem!" Ronan called out cheerfully, running up to the giant like a puppy greeting its owner. "Up so early? Aren't you usually out cold until the afternoon?" Ronan slapped the man's raised palm in a casual high-five, though the sound of their hands clapping together was loud enough to echo in the room.
Ah, that's right—Calem Vale. Silas vaguely remembered hearing his name once or twice before, but the man himself hadn't left much of an impression. Now Silas understood why. Unlike Ronan or Warren, who had big personalities, Calem didn't seem like the type to speak much—or at all, for that matter.
"I thought I'd introduce myself to the newbies," Calem said, his voice low and steady, like distant thunder. His expression remained deadpan, giving away nothing.
"Well, here's your chance!" Ronan grinned, gesturing toward Silas and Warren like a proud host showing off his guests.
Calem approached, each step of his boots heavy enough to vibrate the floor beneath them. Silas felt like a bug under a magnifying glass as the giant stopped just a foot away, staring him down. His sharp eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his features unreadable.
"Now…" Calem said, his tone steady but weighty, "I have a question for you both."
Warren audibly gulped, his posture straightening like he was facing a drill sergeant. Silas, who hadn't done anything even remotely suspicious, suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to confess to crimes he hadn't committed. Why is he staring at me like that? Silas thought.
"Uh… o-okay?" Silas stammered, his voice cracking slightly.
"How familiar are you…" Calem paused for dramatic effect, his gaze unwavering, "with the star Aldebaran?"
Silas blinked. "…What?"
Warren glanced at him, then back at Calem, equally confused. "I'm sorry, the what now?"
Calem's serious expression didn't falter. "Aldebaran," he repeated, like it was obvious. "It's a star in the Taurus constellation. A red giant. It's one of the brightest stars visible from Earth."
"..Will you kill me for not being familiar with it?" Silas asked, his voice laced with genuine nervousness as he eyed Calem's massive frame.
Calem blinked, his stoic expression breaking slightly as a look of mild confusion crossed his face. "What? No. It's not a sin to be unfamiliar with the stars… I assume," he said, his voice still as low and measured as ever, though now tinged with incredulity. He glanced between Silas and Warren like he wasn't sure if they were joking or genuinely afraid of him.
Silas let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head. "Right. Of course not. That would be ridiculous."
Warren, still looking shaken, muttered, "I think I saw it in a textbook once. Does that count?"
Calem sighed like a disappointed teacher. "It's a shame," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Aldebaran has great significance. Its light has guided many travelers, its energy—"
Ah.. He's a total nerd. Silas thought, toning out the man as he rambled on and on about the star.
Moments after the lively interaction, the rest of the house began to stir from their slumber. Silas found himself in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the morning broken only by the faint clink of his glass against the counter as he sipped on water. The coolness grounded him as his thoughts wandered aimlessly.
"Ah, there you are," a soft, familiar voice broke the silence. Silas turned to see Charlotte walking in, her golden curls catching the early light. She moved with an effortless grace, her bright smile immediately disarming.
"You seem to be getting along well with the others," she said, her voice warm and pleased. "That's a relief to hear."
Silas froze for a moment, feeling heat rise to his face. He quickly finished the rest of his water in a desperate attempt to cool himself down. "O-Of course. It's the least I can do for being allowed in," he said, trying to sound casual.
Charlotte tilted her head slightly, her smile never faltering as she began to twirl one of her curls absentmindedly. "Well, if that's the case… can you be a dear and take a trip to the Heart of Cinderhaven for me? We're running low on supplies."
She paused, watching for his reaction before continuing. "Don't worry—I've already asked Ronan and Lumian to go with you, and they agreed. I'm sure Warren would join you, too."
The mention of Cinderhaven sent an odd ripple through Silas's mind. It was fleeting, like the faint echo of a forgotten dream, but it left him with an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu.
Still, he smiled and nodded, shaking off the strange feeling. "It's the least I can do," he said simply, repeating himself.
Charlotte's expression softened. "Thank you, Silas," she said, her tone filled with quiet gratitude.
He watched her leave, the faint scent of lavender trailing behind her. For a moment, Silas lingered in the quiet kitchen, staring at the empty glass in his hand. His mind itched with the strange sensation that he was forgetting something—something important—but no matter how hard he tried to grasp it, it slipped through his fingers like water.
With a sigh, he placed the glass down and turned toward the others. Whatever lay ahead in Cinderhaven, he'd figure it out when he got there.