"Huh."
Silas took a deep, trembling breath, his eyes heavy with pain and fear as they fixed on Asher. Once again, Asher had dredged up the dark threads of Silas's past—threads he could not bear to confront.
"What—"
Silas's sudden scream cut through the air, yet Asher's face remained unreadable, showing no expression, no hint of reaction.
"—Oh…"
Asher understood, then, just what Silas was capable of. Powers so formidable that no one else in the world could wield them—but Silas had them. And yet, even knowing this, Asher laughed.
"Remember this well," he said, his voice steady, almost teasing. "I… am not afraid of you."
The words landed like a hammer. Silas's scream, the raw release of his fear, was ignored completely. Asher walked away, carefree, leaving the entire weight of the moment on Silas's shoulders. Silas alone bore it.
He knew the truth—Asher would never fear his powers. No matter what he could do, it would be meaningless in front of him. Power had no place here. Confrontation was useless.
And yet, the past pressed down on him, relentless. Everything that had happened—the events that had shattered his life, turning a beloved friend into a foe—had been his fault, hadn't it? Silas couldn't tell. He was caught in a whirlwind of confusion and self-reproach. Had he really made the mistake that changed everything, or was he simply haunted by circumstances beyond his control? If a close friend became an enemy, surely some part of it had to be his fault… but try as he might, he could not even remember what he had done wrong.
Helplessness overtook him. He sank to the ground, knees drawn up, resting on the hard pavement, feeling small, broken, and exhausted.
Perhaps… perhaps Asher was right. Perhaps keeping everyone at a distance, keeping himself isolated, was the best thing—for everyone, even for him.
Silas sat there, staring into the fading light, swallowed by the question, by the weight of the past…
....
The entire place was lush with greenery, the kind that felt alive and comforting. Two boys, nearly the same age, were playing amidst the vibrant garden, laughing and chasing one another through the soft grass. The air was gentle, carrying the faint fragrance of flowers blooming on the trees. The leaves swayed softly in the mild breeze, whispering secrets to one another.
Suddenly, the weather began to shift. The pleasant, soothing wind transformed into harsh, violent gusts, whipping through the trees with alarming force. Branches bent dangerously, leaves tore free, and the trees themselves seemed on the verge of collapse.
One of the boys noticed the change immediately. He looked up at the dark clouds gathering in the sky, black and swollen, threatening to burst. But the boy standing next to him, his friend, suddenly let out a terrified scream and darted away, leaving him alone.
"W-what's wrong? Are you okay?" he called after him, confusion clouding his voice.
The boy's friend turned, his eyes wide with fear, shimmering with an unspoken terror that froze the first boy in place. He could not understand what had caused this sudden panic. As he lowered his gaze, trying to see what had frightened his friend, his own eyes widened in shock.
His heart thumped violently in his chest.
Blood?
His hands, moments ago clean and unblemished, were now drenched in dark, sticky red. He stared, unable to comprehend how it had happened—how the color of life had suddenly coated his skin, seemingly without reason.
"Silas!"
A sharp, piercing voice cut through the air, jolting him. He spun around, heart hammering, and saw a figure standing there, watching him with chilling detachment.
"This… this is your fate," the voice said coldly.
"What… I don't understand!" Silas stammered, his voice trembling as fear coiled around him like a living thing.
Suddenly, his friend began to cry. Turning around to see him, Silas was struck by a whirlwind of confusion and worry. His friend's sobs were unrelenting, as if something unimaginably terrible had happened. Tears streamed freely from his innocent eyes, rolling down his cheeks without restraint.
Silas's gaze fell on his own hands, now drenched in blood. He realized he was clutching a knife, its blade stained deep red.
What…?
In a rush of panic, he dropped the knife onto the lush green grass of the garden. The moment it touched the ground, the vibrant greenery began to blacken, curling into ash as if the life around him were being devoured. He could not understand what was happening.
"Accept it," the figure's voice hissed, cold and commanding.
The person stepped closer, placing heavy hands on Silas's shoulders.
"D-Dad… what are you doing—"
In a terrifying, incomprehensible instant, the figure covered Silas's eyes with one hand. Darkness enveloped him, cutting off all sense of the world. Then, as suddenly as it came, the hand was removed—and Silas was forced to witness a vision that no child should ever see.
Before him, a horrifying tableau unfolded:
A man stood drenched in blood, a knife in his hand still dripping with red. The earth beneath was soaked, and on it lay the lifeless body of a woman. The man was crying, wracked with grief, his sobs echoing in the cruel silence.
"This… this is you, Silas. You did this. Admit it," the voice commanded.
"I—I didn't do anything…" Silas whispered, his voice barely audible, lost in terror.
Suddenly, someone grabbed him by the collar with a violent grip, fury radiating from every inch of their body. He thought for a moment that he would be struck. But then… the eyes of the furious figure softened, moisture pooling. Tears ran down, mingling with anger, as the voice trembled.
"Why did you do this? Weren't we… good friends?"
"I—I—I didn't do anything, Asher! I swear, believe me!" Silas stammered, panic and desperation breaking through.
"Believe me, please, Asher…"
Suddenly, voices began to surround the Silas, whispering incessantly, relentless and accusing: "You did this… it was you…"
Silas turned sharply, panic rising in his chest, but there was no one there. He scanned the space around him, but nothing met his eyes—only empty air. Yet the voices continued, unwavering, relentless, echoing in his ears with a cruel persistence that would not stop.
Desperate, he pressed his hands over his ears, trying to shut out the sound, to block the accusing whispers from reaching his mind.
The wind began to whip harder now, turning vicious, tugging at his clothes and hair. Darkness from the gathering black clouds began to swallow the garden around him. Lightning cracked violently across the sky, and raindrops began to pelt down, cold and sharp.
"My biggest mistake… I made a friend… like you"
"Ahhh! Gah!…"
Silas jolted awake, flinging himself upright in his bed. His heart pounded so fiercely he thought it might burst. Deep breaths came in ragged gasps, but the terror of the dream still clung to him like a shadow.
A bad dream, just a nightmare…
He pressed his hand to his forehead, trying desperately to calm his racing heart, to draw in a few steady breaths. But in that moment, peace felt impossible, as though the remnants of the nightmare were still wrapping around him, tight and suffocating.
Some time passed before he could fully process the dream, shaking off the lingering fear.
Was it really just a dream? I hope nothing bad is happening…
He was still caught in that uneasy thought when suddenly, his phone began to ring. It lay on the side table next to his bed, and the sound startled him.
Silas's gaze shifted slowly toward the phone. The caller ID sent a chill through him: it was coming from home.
A call from… Mom?
To Be Continued....