In another world… in a time unknown…
The world was drowning in a heavy silence, as if time itself had stopped breathing.
The sky was pitch black .. no stars, no moon, not even the faintest glimmer. Only an absolute darkness covered everything, as though a colossal hand had swept across the face of the universe and stolen every trace of light.
Beneath this darkness stood an ancient city sprawled across the slope of a towering mountain.
The city was built of glossy black stones, smooth and sharp like shattered glass. Its slender towers sliced through the sky like the fangs of a sleeping beast, while its narrow streets twisted like living intestines.
At the mountain's peak, inside a small room lit by a single candle, sat a seventeen-year-old boy named Razan.
Razan was sitting on the floor, holding an ancient book bound shut with rusted iron chains. His pale gray eyes stared into the candle's weak flame.
Suddenly… the book trembled in his hands.
Then the entire room shook.
Then the mountain itself quaked.
A distant, thunderous explosion rang out, as if the heart of the world had burst.
Razan sprang to his feet at once, tossed the book aside, and rushed to the room's only window. He flung it open with force.
What he saw froze him in place.
The black sky… was tearing apart.
A long, glowing red fissure, like a deep, bleeding wound, split the darkness. From this rift, something strange began to fall… black ash shimmering with a faint purple hue, drifting down slowly like snow yet it was no snow.
It burned everything it touched.
The black towers began to melt like wax beneath this unearthly rain.
People in the streets screamed, then burned, then fell forever silent.
The entire city groaned like a living creature in its death throes.
Razan gripped the edge of the window so tightly that blood trickled from his fingers.
"…Again?" he whispered to himself, his voice broken.
In that moment, he heard footsteps behind him heavy, slow, and confident.
He did not turn around.
He already knew who was coming.
The man entered the room. He was tall, wearing a long black coat that reached the floor, his face hidden behind an expressionless white metal mask.
In his right hand, he held a long black sword, fresh drops of blood still sliding slowly down its blade.
It was his father.
Razan closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them slowly. His face transformed into a mask of quiet, terrifying rage.
"You…"
His voice was low, yet it made the candle flame flicker violently, nearly extinguishing it.
"You did this… You opened the rift."
The man did not reply. He simply raised the sword slowly until it was level with his chest.
Razan smiled a bitter smile that carried no joy.
"All those people… all the towers… all the memories… just for… what?"
The man took one step forward.
Razan did not retreat. Instead, he stepped forward too, until the tip of the sword pressed directly against his chest.
"Answer me, Father…"
His voice rose slightly, and with every word, the stones in the room began to crack.
"Was it worth all of this…?"
The man raised the sword with blinding speed.
And drove it into Razan's chest without hesitation.
The boy did not scream.
He only grabbed his father's arm with both hands and pulled him closer, forcing the sword to pierce all the way through his body until it emerged from his back.
His hot blood spilled over the man's hand.
Razan lifted his gray eyes to his father's masked face, his voice shattered, filled with pain, rage, and sorrow all at once:
"…Why… Father…?"
The man remained silent.
But his white mask… began to crack slowly from top to bottom.
From beneath the mask, a single tear fell… a tear as black as the night.
Then the man whispered, his voice so faint it seemed he was speaking more to himself than to his son:
"This…"
"This… is the only way…"
Razan offered a faint smile and closed his eyes.
His body went limp and collapsed to the floor.
The man stood motionless over his son's corpse, staring down at him for a long time.
Then he raised his head toward the red fissure in the black sky and let out a single, earth-shattering roar that filled the entire world:
"But… why must the only way… come at such a price?!"
****
*Thump… Thump… Thump…*
In a small room in a completely modern city utterly different in every way.
Reis sat on his bed, reading the novel on his phone, his eyes wide open.
"Oh my God!…"
He threw the phone onto the bed in frustration and stood up, pacing back and forth across the room.
"Every single time! It builds this insane atmosphere, takes you to the peak, then cuts it off so abruptly! You treacherous author!"
His heart was still pounding hard from the scene he had just read.
Suddenly, his phone rang.
A message from his old friend:
"Samo: Yo beast, come down and let's play ball. Don't waste the day like this?"
Reis smiled despite his anger and replied quickly:
"Sure, Professor, but you're paying for the drinks this time."
Then he looked toward the window, where the sun was setting over his peaceful city, and whispered to himself:
"…But this world is strange. Every chapter you read feels like it contains a piece of the truth."
He shook his head as he left the room, trying to forget the blood, the sword, and the black tears… at least for a few hours.