Aether was supposed to be settling down for the night, but the notion of sleep seemed foreign to him. His small frame bounced with boundless energy, the soft creaks of the crib's wooden slats mingling with his quiet giggles. The dim glow of the nightlight bathed the room in a golden hue, casting playful shadows that danced on the walls. His wide, curious eyes shone with defiance against the hour, as though the world outside his crib still held secrets he longed to uncover.
Downstairs, his mother paused, hands submerged in soapy water as the rhythmic thuds from above broke the quiet rhythm of her work. Her brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and fondness.
"Aether!" she called, softened by the unmistakable warmth of maternal affection.
Her tone carried upstairs, eliciting another fit of giggles.
"Aether, you better be sleeping when I come up there!"
She dried her hands on a worn kitchen towel, as she ascended the stairs. The creak of the old wood under her bare feet echoed faintly, a gentle reminder of the home's lived-in comfort.
As she pushed open the door, the sight before her melted away any frustration she might have carried. Aether was standing in his crib, gripping the edge as if it were a stage. His laughter bubbled up like a spring, his joy so pure it was contagious.
She crossed the room quickly, scooping him up into her arms with a soft laugh of her own.
"What am I going to do with you, my little troublemaker?"
"Boo… book, Mama,"
his small voice earnest, the words slightly garbled.
She smiled knowingly, setting him gently back into the crib. His favorite story. The one he demanded every night, without fail. She retrieved the well-worn book from the shelf, its spine creased from countless readings.
"You really do love this one, don't you?"
her voice tinged with amusement as she dragged a stool beside the crib and opened the book.
Her voice shifted into a storyteller's rhythm.
"In England, in a place that once thrived with industry, there stood a factory. It was long abandoned, shrouded in shadows, hidden in a forgotten corner of the world..."
Her words painted vivid images, each sentence pulling Aether deeper into the tale's world of mystery and foreboding. His restless energy ebbed away with each passing moment, his wide eyes fluttering shut as the cadence of her voice became a lullaby.
She paused mid-sentence, noticing the soft rise and fall of his chest. A small smile graced her lips as she closed the book gently.
"He always falls asleep at the best part"
Lowering her voice, while hovering over Aether.
Placing the book on the desk, she tucked him in, pulling the blanket snug around his tiny form. The house fell silent once more, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside. Moonlight streamed through the curtains, its silver glow bathing the room in a serene light.
---
Aether's mother woke abruptly beside Aether, her breath catching in her throat. A suffocating stillness had settled over the room. Her heart raced as her eyes darted to the shadows, the familiar comfort of her surroundings now cloaked in an eerie dread.
Something moved.
A figure stood at the edge of the room, tall and cloaked, its form melding seamlessly into the darkness. Its presence was wrong, a violation of the room's fragile peace. She tried to speak, but her voice faltered, the words caught in her throat like thorns.
A faint, unnatural glow sparked in the figure's hand- a flicker of cold blue light that illuminated the edges of its shrouded form.
"[Thánatos]," it whispered, the single word reverberating through the room with a weight that defied comprehension.
Her body betrayed her. A wave of cold weakness washed over her, pulling her back into the bed. Her limbs felt heavy, unresponsive, as though an invisible force had sapped the strength from her very bones.
The figure moved closer, each step had a difference, each motion carrying a predatory grace. Its shadow fell over Aether's crib, the child stirring restlessly in his sleep. With a measured motion, the figure reached out and closed her wide, staring eyes, its touch as cold as death itself.
The room held its breath, a furious yet smooth breeze wandered within the room.
The figure turned toward the desk, its gaze locking onto the book. It lingered there, as though communing with something unseen. Its inaudible whispers were like phantom winds, carrying secrets too terrible to grasp.
Then, its gaze shifted.
Aether whimpered softly, his small form trembling under the weight of the figure's presence. For a moment, it seemed to hesitate, its dark hood tilting as though in thought.
And then it vanished, fading into the shadows as though it had never been there.
The room exhaled, the suffocating stillness lifting.
The house remained silent with it's departure, but it left to wander the world.
---
Aether woke with a start, his chest heaving. The remnants of the dream,
or was it a memory?
"Who was that man… what did he do?" He lightly said
"What's wrong, Aether? Bad dream?"
The familiar voice of his aunt startled him. She stood beside his bed, adjusting the lamp on the small desk.
Did the light break, while I was sleeping
He glanced at her, then at the faint light filtering through the window. The sun hadn't risen yet.
"Yes… yes, Auntie Graham," he muttered.
"Just aunt," she corrected, her tone brisk.
"Okay…aunt"
He flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Just know you're still going to school, boy!"
"Yessss, I know. And stop calling me 'boy.' I'm nearly fifteen."
His exaggerated sigh earned a chuckle from the hallway.
"Do that again, and you'll be making your own breakfast," she teased.
But Aether's thoughts lingered on the dream. It felt too real, too vivid to be mere imagination. The image of his mother and the cloaked figure haunted him, pulling at the edges of his memory.
Mom…
Drawn by an inexplicable urge, he made his way to the old room he once shared with her. The door was locked, as it had been since the day she died.
"It has to be here," he muttered, rummaging through Aunt Graham's drawers in search of the key.
"What are you doing in my room?"
Her voice froze him. She stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
"A dream… about Mom," he stammered.
Her gaze hardened. "It's just a dream, Aether. Don't go digging up the past."
"No… it wasn't just a dream. I saw her die. Someone killed her."
Her face paled, but her voice remained firm. "Enough, Aether. The doctors explained everything. It was a heart attack."
"No! In my dream, there was a man- "
"Aether!"
Her voice cracked like a whip, silencing him.
"It's enough."
The sting of her slap was swift, but it was the finality in her voice that hurt more.
"Enough about your mother."
Tears streamed down his face as he clenched his fists, his anger and grief spilling over. He wanted to scream, to make her understand. But the words wouldn't come.
He just remained silent
---
Inside the modest home, Aunt Graham carried on with her morning routine. The clang of dishes, the faint hum of an old radio-sounds that filled the house with life. She paused only briefly, expecting the usual burst of noise from her nephew as he dashed out the door. Yet, today, the silence lingered.
Minutes passed. The quiet settled uneasily over her, pressing down like an invisible weight.
"Aether?" Her voice echoing down the narrow hallway. No response.
She frowned, moving through the house, checking each room. His bed was unmade, his shoes missing from their usual place. Still, the absence of his farewell nagged at her. Finally, she stepped outside, shielding her eyes from the morning sun.
In the yard, Mrs. Barley, her ever-curious neighbor, was busy with her trash. The sound of crinkling plastic punctuated the stillness.
"Mrs. Barley!" Aunt Graham called, forcing a casual tone.
"Did you see Aether leave for school this morning?"
Mrs. Barley straightened, squinting as she glanced over. "Not today. Everything alright?"
Aunt Graham hesitated, the question biting deeper than it should have.
"I'm sure he's fine. Probably left early," she muttered, more to herself than to Mrs. Barley.
She turned back toward the house, her mind swirling with half-formed thoughts.
Maybe I was too harsh on him yesterday...
She pushed the door open, stepping into the familiar warmth of her home.
Then she saw him.
A man stood in the dining room, his back to her. His presence was as out of place as a wolf in a sheepfold. He wore a long black trench coat, its hem brushing the floor. His shoulders were broad, his frame imposing, and a stark white mask covered his face-
a blank, expressionless void that was somehow worse than any grimace.
Her breath hitched, her voice caught in her throat. Finally, she managed,
"Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The man turned, unhurried. His movements carried an unsettling grace, like a predator toying with its prey. Without a word, he sat at the table, his gloved hands resting casually on its surface.
"Take a seat," he said, his voice smooth, almost polite, yet dripping with an authority that brooked no refusal.
Her legs moved before her mind could protest, as though his words had hooked into her very will. She sat across from him, her hands trembling against the table's edge.
"You've done well, Isadora Graham," he said, his tone eerily calm.
She blinked, confusion momentarily overshadowing her fear.
"What are you talking about? I don't even know you."
The man leaned forward, the stark whiteness of his mask filling her vision. "But I know you."
A chill swept over her, the words sinking into her like ice cold bath.
"You played your part perfectly," he continued, as if speaking to an old accomplice.
Her heart raced, her thoughts tumbling over one another. "I don't understand. What part? What are you-"
His hand rose, silencing her with a gesture. "Your sister," he said, his voice dipping lower, "do you resent me for what I did to her?"
Her breath caught. Her sister. The wound was old but far from healed. "What are you saying?" she whispered, though her voice was barely audible.
He chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. "You know exactly what I mean."
Slowly, and casually, he raised a hand to his mask. As it lifted, the air seemed to grow heavier, pressing down on her like an unseen force.
"I killed Isadora!"
Her eyes widened as recognition dawned. The face beneath the mask, those eyes- it was him. The man who had shattered her family, stolen her sister's life.
"No," she breathed, her voice breaking.
"Yes," he replied, leaning closer, his words a venomous whisper. "It's me."
"Long time, yet your eyes it's been quite short..."
Terror surged through her, but before she could react, he spoke again. "[Thánatos]."
Her body went rigid, her vision blurring as the world tilted. Darkness claimed her in an instant, her lifeless form slumping forward.
The man stood, his movements as measured as before. He stepped into the kitchen, rummaging through a drawer until he found a knife. Returning to the table, he worked with clinical precision, his hands steady as he plunged the blade into her chest.
The crimson stain spread, vivid against the pale light of the room. He wiped the knife on her clothing before discarding it beside her motionless body.
Adjusting his gloves, he turned toward the door. With a final glance at the scene he'd left behind, he stepped into the shadows, leaving only silence and the faint metallic scent of blood in his wake.
---
Aether sat on the swing, its rusted chains groaning softly with each slight shift of his weight. The park was desolate, an expanse of dying grass and empty benches, positioned between his school and his home. Yet, neither place felt as distant as they did now. He stared at the ground, scuffing the dirt with the toe of his shoe. The cold wind curled around him, sharp and biting, though he paid it no mind.
He should have been in class. But what did it matter?
The sound of footsteps broke the preferred silence, followed by a familiar voice, light and teasing.
"Skipping again, huh?"
Aether didn't need to look up to recognize her. Anastasia stood there, her ever-present grin tugging at her lips, a cigarette already in hand.
"You too?" he asked, his tone flat.
She chuckled, lighting the cigarette with practiced ease.
"If you're not going, I'm not going. School's dull anyway. Besides, you've skipped plenty of times because of me. Call it payback, figured I'd keep you company."
Aether finally looked at her, his gaze as neutral as ever.
"Why do you avoid school? And home? I know you've got a reason. Me... I just do it. I'm an idiot really..."
I got mad at aunt for nothing today... she's probably worried sick
Anastasia's grin didn't falter, though her eyes reflected something within her.
"Let's just say I don't fit in either."
She took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling a thin stream of smoke that spiraled upward before vanishing into the cold air.
It was warmer on the way here.
Then, with a mischievous tilt of her head, she leaned closer, her face mere inches from his.
"We should get married," she said, her voice laced with mock seriousness.
Aether blinked, his mind scrambling for a response. "Uhh-"
"I'm joking," she interrupted.
laughing as she leaned back. Her laughter was light, almost musical, yet it carried an edge of detachment.
"Unless, of course, you're joking too."
The moment lingered, quiet and unhurried. Few cars passed by- perhaps three in the past hour. The park remained still, bathed in the pale light of a winter sun. The air was crisp, carrying a faint promise of frost. It was the kind of silence that felt alive, the kind that amplified every breath, every heartbeat.
Time stretched until a disruption arrived in the form of a police car. It rolled into the park, its presence jarring against the tranquility.
Aether stiffened, his body instinctively tensing. Anastasia, too, went rigid, her fingers tightening around the cigarette.
The officer stepped out, his gaze scanning the park until it landed on them. He began walking toward them.
"Aether!"
He called, his voice carrying over the grass
Panic clawed at Aether's chest. He didn't respond, couldn't respond. Instead, he gripped Anastasia's hand, his palm clammy against hers.
The officer shouted again, his voice louder this time, though the words were still muffled by distance.
Anastasia tugged at Aether's arm. "We need to go. Now."
Aether hesitated, his feet rooted to the ground.
"Aether!" the officer yelled once more. "Your aunt... Isadora-"
The words were drowned out as Anastasia pulled him into a run. His legs moved on instinct, his mind unable to process anything beyond the sound of their hurried footsteps crunching over brittle leaves.
Finally in the midst of everything, the officer's voice reached him clearly.
"Aether, Isadora is dead!"
The words struck him like a physical blow. His legs buckled, and he crumpled to the ground. The world around him twisted, the edges of his vision darkening. It felt as though he were looking through a tunnel, the sounds around him muffled and distant.
Anastasia knelt before him, her voice frantic. "Aether! Hey! What's wrong? Say something!"
But he couldn't hear her. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, his chest tightening as if a vice had clamped around his ribs. His hands trembled, his fingers curling weakly into the dirt.
"Aether, please!" Anastasia's voice loosen as she shook him, desperation bleeding into her words.
The officer approached cautiously. "Miss, what's wrong with him?"
Anastasia spun around, her eyes blazing with a fury that startled the man. "Don't touch him!" she snapped, her voice filled with tenacity
The world stilled. The wind ceased its whispering, the leaves froze mid-air, and the officer's outstretched hand hung motionless. A strange, unnatural silence enveloped the park.
Anastasia's voice trembled, though her resolve did not waver. "Don't... touch Aether."
"Let it go."
A man jumped before her
Anastasia looked up, her wide eyes locking onto a figure standing just beyond the frozen radius.
"Let it go," the man repeated, but no good as the sound wasn't traveling
Anastasia though was in her own zone...she was still in some sort of mental breakdown arguing with absolutely no one.
Defiance burning in her gaze. "No. No one's going to touch him!"
A wave of exhaustion crashed over Anastasia, her strength draining in an instant. The man moved swiftly, catching both her and Aether before they officer noticed
The world resumed its motion. The officer blinked in confusion, his gaze darting around the now-empty park.
"What the...?"
Reaching for his gun as an unnatural chill swept through the air. Frost crept over the grass, defying the sun's previous warmth.
A tear in reality appeared, and from it emerged a figure cloaked in black.
The officer's hand trembled as he gripped his weapon.
"Who... what are you?"
The figure stepped closer, his green eyes gleaming beneath the veil.
"You don't need to know. You're not part of this story."
The officer's voice wavered.
"Who are you?!?"
-
-
-
"I am Asebia."
"[Thánatos]"