The sound of an alarm shattered the morning silence, waking up Tebasile Aivilo from his sleep. He blinked a few times before turning toward the window, then quickly got up to open it. The cool morning breeze greeted him, momentarily making him forget that he had an important agenda today.
But his daydreaming was cut short when his eyes caught the clock on the wall. "Ah... damn! I'm going to be late!" he exclaimed in panic. Without wasting another second, he rushed to the bathroom.
A small mishap occurred—whether due to haste or drowsiness, he grabbed the wrong bottle. Instead of shampoo, he ended up washing his hair with liquid soap. Annoyed, he grumbled while rinsing his hair, "Damn it! This always happens when I'm in a hurry!"
Once he was done, he quickly put on his clothes and took a brief glance in the mirror. But before he could take a deep breath, his phone rang loudly. Without hesitation, he answered it.
"Hello, Mr. Tebasile. I'm waiting for you in front of the apartment," a raspy voice of an older man spoke from the other end.
Aivilo's eyes widened. "O-okay, Uncle. I'll be right down."
"Are you bringing a lot of luggage?" the man asked.
Grabbing his backpack and rushing out of his room, Aivilo replied, "No, Uncle. I'm only carrying one backpack, so don't worry."
"Alright then. Hurry up, sir, or you'll be late for the airport."
"Understood, Uncle!"
The call ended.
With quick steps, Aivilo entered the elevator, his heart pounding. Where exactly was he going? And why did he feel like this trip was more than just an ordinary journey?
As the elevator doors opened, he saw a man in a black suit standing beside a sleek black car.
Today, his adventure would begin.
Aivilo was set to depart for the country of Silgne.
Upon arriving at the lobby, he walked to the reception desk and handed over his passport. A young woman with neatly tied hair and a professional smile took it and began processing his documents. After a moment, she handed him a piece of paper.
As soon as Aivilo took the paper, his eyes widened in shock. It was covered in blood. Thick, dark red liquid dripped onto his hands, staining his fingers. His heart pounded.
"What… what is this?" he murmured.
The receptionist noticed his change in expression and asked, "Sir, is something wrong?"
Aivilo remained frozen, staring at the blood on his hands. With a trembling voice, he said, "Th-there's blood… on this paper!"
The woman gasped, but when she took the paper back from his shaking hands, her expression shifted to confusion. She flipped it over, examined it carefully, then looked back at Aivilo.
"Sir, this is clean. There's nothing here."
Aivilo's breath hitched. He looked down at his hands—the blood was still there. His fingers were still stained red, but the woman in front of him saw nothing.
Panic surged through him. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Without a second thought, he ran.
He rushed through the lobby, pushed through the revolving doors, and sprinted toward the black car waiting outside. The man in the black suit—his uncle—stood by the car, watching him approach.
Gasping for breath, Aivilo stopped beside him and stammered, "Uncle… something strange… I saw blood!"
The older man remained calm, his sharp eyes studying Aivilo closely. "Blood?" he repeated.
Aivilo nodded frantically. "In the lobby, on my hands… on the paper they gave me! But the woman there didn't see it!"
His uncle sighed, then opened the car door. "Get in, Mr. Tebasile. We don't have much time."
Still shaken, Aivilo hesitated before sliding into the car. As the door shut, the vehicle began moving.
He clenched his fists, staring at his trembling hands. The blood was gone.
What was happening?
And more importantly… what awaited him in Silgne?
Back in his apartment, Aivilo stood by the window, staring out at the city lights. His mind was restless, still haunted by what had happened earlier.
Suddenly, his phone rang. He picked it up and saw the caller ID—Mom.
He hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Hello, Mom?"
A worried voice came through from the other end, "Aivilo, are you okay? Where are you? You didn't get on the plane, did you?"
Aivilo furrowed his brows. "I'm fine, Mom. I… I decided not to go."
There was silence on the line, followed by a relieved sigh. "Thank God… Thank God, my son!"
Aivilo felt a strange chill run down his spine. "Mom, why? What happened?"
His mother's voice trembled. "Turn on the TV, now."
Feeling uneasy, Aivilo grabbed the remote and switched on the television.
The news channel flashed across the screen. The headline sent shivers down his spine:
BREAKING NEWS: ORLDNILE FLIGHT CRASHES INTO THE OCEAN. NO SURVIVORS.
Aivilo's body froze. His breath caught in his throat.
That was the exact plane he was supposed to be on.
If he had boarded that flight… he would be dead.
Aivilo stared at the television screen, his breath unsteady. The words from the news still echoed in his mind.
The plane he was supposed to board… had crashed. No survivors.
With trembling hands, he grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. Silence filled the room, but his mind was flooded with noise—voices of anxiety, confusion, and fear.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his phone, threw on his jacket, and left his apartment.
The night air was cold and biting, but he didn't care. His steps were quick and determined. He didn't know if this was the right decision, but there was one person who might help him understand what was happening—his brother, Benedictus.
Benedictus was a pastor who had been serving at a church in this country, Acirema, where Aivilo lived. Unlike his deeply religious brother, Aivilo never believed in God.
Since childhood, he had seen religion as nothing more than an illusion, and to him, God did not exist.
Whenever Benedictus tried to invite him to church or talk about faith, Aivilo would always shrug it off and ignore him. Life, for him, was about what could be seen and felt, not abstract concepts like God or destiny.
But tonight… something had changed.
He wasn't going to the church to pray. He wasn't going to listen to his brother's sermons.
He just needed answers.
Answers to why he was still alive… while the others were not.
Aivilo walked briskly through the quiet streets, his breath visible in the cold night air. His thoughts were tangled, looping over the same terrifying question—Why was he still alive?
Before he knew it, he had arrived at the church. The towering structure loomed before him, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. He had passed this place countless times, always indifferent, never once stepping inside. But tonight was different.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the heavy wooden doors.
The church was dimly lit, with candles flickering along the walls. The scent of burning wax and aged wood filled the air. A few people sat in silent prayer, their heads bowed. The solemnity of the place made Aivilo uneasy, but he forced himself to move forward.
At the front of the church, standing near the altar, was Benedictus. His older brother was dressed in his usual black cassock, his presence calm and steady. He was speaking quietly to someone, but when he lifted his gaze and saw Aivilo, his eyes widened in surprise.
Aivilo never came here. Never.
Benedictus excused himself from the conversation and approached, his voice gentle yet firm.
"Aivilo… What are you doing here?"
Aivilo swallowed hard. He had so many things to say, but the words refused to come out. Instead, his voice was hoarse as he muttered,
"I need answers."
Benedictus studied his brother for a long moment before nodding.
"Then come with me."
Without another word, he led Aivilo deeper into the church, toward a quieter place where they could talk.
Aivilo had never prayed, never believed, never cared about faith.
But tonight, standing in a place he had always rejected, he felt something he had never felt before.
A presence.
A question.
And an unsettling whisper in the back of his mind—
"Why were you spared?"
Aivilo followed Benedictus through the silent corridors of the church. Their footsteps echoed, blending into the overwhelming stillness of the place.
They arrived at a small room behind the altar, a space where Benedictus often met with people seeking guidance. The room was simple—just a wooden table, two chairs, and a cross hanging on the wall.
Benedictus sat down first, then gestured for Aivilo to do the same.
"Tell me, Aivilo. What exactly happened?"
Aivilo let out a heavy sigh, trying to steady his thoughts.
"I was supposed to be on that plane, Ben," his voice trembled. "But something… stopped me. I saw something strange. I felt… like something pulled me away from death."
Benedictus studied his brother intently, not judging, not interrupting.
"What did you see?" he asked calmly.
Aivilo ran a hand down his face, recalling the moment in the apartment lobby. "Blood."
Benedictus frowned. "Blood?"
Aivilo nodded quickly. "When I took the paper from the receptionist, there was blood on it. It dripped onto my hands. I could see it, feel it, Ben… but they couldn't. Then it just vanished."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Benedictus leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes still locked on Aivilo. "And that made you decide not to board the plane?"
"I don't know…" Aivilo shook his head. "I just had a bad feeling. Then, hours later… I saw the news about the crash."
Benedictus tapped his fingers on the table, as if weighing something deep in his mind.
"Aivilo, have you ever considered… that this wasn't a coincidence?"
Aivilo frowned. "What do you mean?"
Benedictus took a deep breath before answering, "What if there's a reason you survived?"
Aivilo scoffed. "Oh, don't start, Ben. If this is about God, I—"
"Just listen," Benedictus interrupted. "I'm not asking you to suddenly believe. I just want you to consider one thing: Maybe something bigger is happening. Something you don't understand yet."
Aivilo stared at his brother, a heavy weight pressing against his chest. Something bigger…?
All his life, he had rejected the idea of fate or a higher power. But now, after everything that had happened…
He was starting to doubt himself.
Benedictus studied his expression carefully before speaking in a low, deliberate voice.
"Aivilo… you didn't just survive the crash. You were chosen."
Aivilo's heart pounded.
Chosen? By whom? For what?
And more importantly… what happens next?
Aivilo walked out of the church, his mind heavy with thoughts. The night air felt colder now, or maybe it was just the unease settling deep in his bones. He got into his car, started the engine, and drove back to his apartment in silence.
When he arrived, he tossed his keys onto the counter and collapsed onto the sofa. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to rest.
Feeling hungry, he dragged himself to the kitchen and started heating up some instant noodles. While waiting, he absentmindedly opened the fridge, looking for something to drink.
That's when it happened.
A chill ran down his spine.
It was faint at first—a feeling, a presence. As if someone was watching him. Moving.
He turned his head slightly, his eyes scanning the dimly lit apartment. Nothing. But the sensation only grew stronger. Something—or someone—was there.
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
He shut the fridge door.
A sound. A low, distorted whisper.
Aivilo froze. It came again.
And again.
His breathing became shallow. He pressed his hands over his ears, but the whispers slithered through, like voices crawling inside his head.
Then, out of the corner of his eye—
Movement.
A shadow. Shifting. Flickering. Twisting.
And then—a snake.
It coiled on the floor, its dark, glistening body slithering closer.
Aivilo stumbled backward. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs. The snake moved toward him, its beady eyes locked onto his.
Then—it climbed onto his leg.
Aivilo's breath hitched. His body felt frozen, as if something was holding him in place. He tried to move, tried to scream—but he couldn't.
The snake wrapped around his calf, tightening.
Aivilo shut his eyes, willing it to disappear, willing this nightmare to end.
Seconds passed.
Then—silence.
He opened his eyes.
The snake was gone.
His hands trembled as he clutched the counter for support. His chest rose and fell in rapid breaths.
"Damn it…" he muttered under his breath. "Is this what stress does to people? Is this because of the crash? Is my mind playing tricks on me?"
He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his voice barely above a whisper.
"No… I'm not crazy… am I?"