A figure, carved from shadow, stood before him.

  He couldn't speak. Couldn't move.

  His body was tied to a pole, blood pooling beneath him, heat burning into his skin. The roars of the crowd crushing against him, heavy, merciless.

  "Die!"

  "Kill it!"

  "Burn it alive!"

  They emerged as formless shadows, their eyes and mouths glowing a sinister, blood-red light. Their stares pierced me, as if they could see straight into my soul.

  The shadow leaned closer. Its whisper was cold and empty.

  "The ruins."

  It raised a hand, pointing toward a city floating in the sky beautiful, perfect… until flames tore it apart, collapsing it into ash overnight.

  He jolted awake, gasping, his shirt soaked in sweat, heart hammering as if the nightmare still clung to him.

  For a moment, the shadows lingered at the edges of the room, whispering fragments of the terror he had just lived.

  Hands trembling, he stumbled toward the bathroom and stared at his reflection, whispering,

  "That dream again…"

  The room was silent except for Kayon's breathing.

  Then, from down the hall, the sound of a family's laughter spilled into the quiet, warm and real. He froze, letting it wash over him, a fragile tether pulling him back from the lingering darkness.

  Hesitating, he reached for the door and stepped into the bright light and familiar joy of the past.

  "Ack! Ouch! Woman, that hurt!" a man groaned, rubbing his head.

  "And you bet I'll hit you again, you idiot! Stop telling your son such fairy tales he's only four!" a woman snapped, one hand on her hip, the other clenched in a fist.

  "They're not fairy tales! They really happened!" he looks at the child's pale face,

  "Besides, this isn't a fairytale it's horror! Look at him doesn't he look traumatized? Hahaha! Ouch, come on!" the man yelld, wincing as she smacked his head again.

  "I said stop it! Leave the boy alone! Come on, Kayon," she said, scooping him up. "Mummy's got you. Let's get you to bed."

  "Umm… mummy, did that really happen?" Kayon asked, wide-eyed with curiosity.

  She tucked him in, blanket soft against his skin.

  "No, dear. They're just old stories your father still reads."

  The man entered the room, a mischievous smile on his face.

  "They're real, my boy. A man discovered a tome in one of the dungeons. So… if you misbehave, the Forlorns will come for you."

  Selin's voice cut through the room:

  "ALEX LUBAKI GREY!!"

  Alex froze, cold sweat forming. "Y-Yes, Selin," he stammered, backing away.

  "1… 2…" she counted, a grin tugging at her lips.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Wait, why are you counting? Come on, relax… you don't want to kill me, right?"

  "3. I believe it's been a while since I last cooked for a funeral!" With that, she charged at him with a metal pipe, eyes blazing, laughter and cries echoing through the house.

  Kayon watched, smiling, the absurdity warming him.

  Then everything froze.

  Black liquid slowly dripped from eyes and mouths of the family as the dark figure stepped into the room.

  The boy stood and handed a severed arm to kayon.

  Joy and laughter shifted to confusion, fear, and dread. His breath caught as he saw blood dripping from his left arm.

  his hand was gone.

  "That's… my hand," he whispered, chest tightening, breath shallow.

  "Why… why… why? What do you want from me?"

  He jolted awake, heart hammering, sweat clinging to his skin, the nightmare still clawing at his mind. Panic clawed at him as he reached for the bottle on his nightstand, swallowed a pill, and sank to his knees.

  "Just a dream… it's just a dream…"

  The shadow flickered at the corner of his eye. He stumbled to see it, but it was gone. He sobbed quietly,

  The first light of morning creeping in, washing over him.

  Slowly, he rose, wiped his tears,

  Kayon stepped towards the window under the radiant glow of moonlight and pressed his hands to the window, staring at the city's towering walls. Cold, unyielding, they separated the life inside from the barren ruins beyond. Fear curled in his chest, a reminder of the nightmares that still haunted him,

  Isolation weighed heavy, but beneath it stirred a faint, urgent pulse the urge to escape, to run from the shadows that claimed his dreams. He exhaled slowly, tracing his reflection in the glass.

  "I still have these dreams," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "I'll never forget… twelve long years, and they still haunt me."

  He slapped his cheeks lightly, forcing himself back into control. He couldn't afford to fall apart not now, he thought.

  "Right… let's get ready." His reflection caught his eye. The brown of his hair made him flinch like the smoke and ashes from the city in his nightmare.

  "Time to darken it… maybe then it won't remind me," he tugged at it,

  "I can just say I want it to match my eyes."

  Downstairs, Soren and Sera sat chatting, light as angels in the morning glow. Kayon's chest warmed at the sight, a brief reprieve from the shadows of his past that still clung to him.

  "Kayon, come on! We've been waiting all morning. Get the food ready we're hungry!" Soren called, brushing her golden-brown hair over her shoulder. She glanced at her twin sister, Sera, as she continued talking with her.

  I moved toward the kitchen, setting the table and preparing breakfast. The smells of fresh bread and sizzling meat filled the room, blending with the familiar chaos of our home.

  A sharp knock at the door interrupted the morning.

  "Sir? Mr. Kayon?" a young voice called. I opened the door to find a boy in a Grey Company uniform, bowing low.

  "Sorry to disturb you so early, sir," he stammered. "I've been sent to take you to the office. The vice manager she's worried because you're never this late."

  "Who, Zephi? Worrying about me? That's a lie," I muttered, raising an eyebrow.

  "Well… she sent me to tell you that, as the manager, you should be at the office by now overseeing things," Derrick replied, his smile betraying his inner motives.

  I shook my head, chuckling at his effort. He's clearly enjoying this, trying so hard to look professional.

  "Fine," I said, taking off my apron. "Let me finish up here, then we can go together."

  "Soren, Sera!," I called over my shoulder. "The food's ready. I can't eat with you I'm late for work. Start without me."

  I grabbed my coat and stepped outside, the morning air thick with the familiar stench of the city a strange mix of rotting fruit, meat, and perfume trying to mask the decay. This was home: broken, alive, and somehow comforting.

  He got onto the carriage and drove to work.

  At the company, Zephia appeared. "Good morning, sir. You're late. Did something happen?"

  "Just overslept. Nothing big," he replied.

  "A client insists on meeting you before leaving," she said, peering at him from the corner of her eye.

  "Fine. Bring her to my office once I settle in... and stop looking at me like that do you want me to fall?"

  "No, sir. I'm just glad you have someone else now."

  He sighed deeply. "yes thank you, wait!…what... who, what do you mean?"

  She laughed and left ignoring him call out to her,

  "Hey, come back here! What did you mean?" he called, but she had already disappeared into the distance, her laughter lingering like a ghost.

  He shook his head, exhaling, and turned to his office, beginning to organize his desk.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  "Can I come in?" a voice asked.

  "Wait… yes, come in."

  The door creaked open. A figure stepped inside, shrouded in a worn black coat. Each footfall groaned against the floorboards, carrying a chill that slithered along Kayon's spine. The faint metallic tang of blood or something else mingled with the sharp scent of wet leather.

  The hood concealed their face, yet a pair of eyes glimmered from the shadows—cold, unreadable, and unyielding. They pinned him in silent scrutiny, flickering fragments of the shadows from his dreams chasing him across the room.

  "Mmhhn… sir, are you Mr. Kayon Grey?" the voice quavered, trembling like fragile glass. Only those eyes cut through the darkness, sharp and impossible to ignore.

  "Before I answer… tell me who you are," he said, voice steady, though his chest tightened.