After finishing the meal, Pheo stayed behind to help his mother clear the table. He gathered the plates while she rinsed them, the quiet clinking of dishes filling the small kitchen.
The routine felt strangely familiar to him, his hands moving without needing to think, as if they had done this countless times before. As he set one of the plates down beside the basin, something caught the corner of his eye.
A door.
It stood along the far wall of the room, slightly crooked in its frame. The wood looked older than everything else around it. It's surface scratched and faded, the color dulled as if it had weathered years of neglect.
Compared to the rest of the house, which looked carefully maintained, the door felt out of place… Almost like it had been forced into the wall afterward.
Pheo stared at it for a moment. He was sure it hadn't been there before.
"Mom," he said slowly, nodding toward it. "What's that door for?"
His mother glanced over her shoulder while drying her hands. Her eyes lingered on the door for only a second before she waved it off casually. "Oh, that?" she said. "Just a storage space. Somewhere we keep things we don't really need anymore."
She turned back to the dishes and gently nudged his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Finish up already, your father will probably be calling you soon."
Almost the moment she said it, Pheo heard his father's voice from outside.
"Pheo! Come here for a second!"
His mother smiled faintly, as if the timing had been expected. "See?" she said. "Go on. I'll finish up here."
Pheo hesitated for a brief moment, his gaze drifting back toward the worn door. Something about it felt… wrong. Not threatening exactly. Just unsettling, like a detail that didn't belong in the picture.
Still, he didn't press the question.
"Alright," he said.
He walked past the door, his eyes lingering on it for one last curious glance before pushing the thought aside and stepping outside toward his father. Outside, the sunlight felt brighter than it should have, spilling across the clearing in warm streaks.
Pheo blinked as he stepped out of the doorway, letting his eyes adjust. His father stood a short distance away, waiting beside the worn path that led into the trees. A rifle rested easily across his back, the strap running diagonally across his chest.
When he saw Pheo approach, his father gave a small nod.
"About time," he said. "Where's your gun?"
Pheo stopped a few steps away, his expression blank. "My… gun?"
His father raised an eyebrow, amused. "Yeah. Your gun. Don't tell me you forgot already." He tilted his head toward the house. "We're heading out for food today. Thought you'd remember that much."
Pheo scratched the back of his head, clearly unsure. The words felt familiar, but they didn't connect to anything solid in his mind.
His father chuckled lightly at the confusion. "Go grab it before we leave."
Then he added with a grin, "Unless you're planning to hunt with your bare hands."
The comment sounded like a joke, but Pheo's eyes drifted away from him, scanning the ground nearby. Something caught his attention, a few scattered cords hanging from an old crate, and a strip of leather half-buried under dust.
An idea formed almost instantly.
"Actually," Pheo said slowly, "I've got something else in mind."
His father folded his arms, curious. "Oh?"
"Give me a minute."
Without waiting for a response, Pheo walked off toward the edge of the clearing. He crouched near the crate and began gathering the pieces he had noticed. His fingers moved almost automatically, twisting the cord and threading it through the leader strip. He tightened the knots, testing the tension, adjusting it again.
The process felt strangely natural, even though he couldn't remember doing it before.
After a short while, he stood up and returned.
His father looked down at what Pheo was holding.
"A sling?" he said.
Pheo nodded, gripping it confidently.
"You sure you don't want the rifle instead?" his father asked, tilting his head. "Would make things a lot easier."
Pheo shook his head without hesitation.
"I can do better with this," he said.
His father studied him for a moment, the corner of his mouth curling into a half-smile. "Well," he said finally, pushing himself off the fence post he had been leaning against, "now I've got to see that."
He turned toward the forest path and gestured with his head.
"Come on then. Let's see if that thing of yours can actually catch dinner."
They walked into the woods together, the ground crunching softly beneath their boots. The trees grew thicker the farther they went, their branches weaving together overhead and dimming the sunlight.
Every so often, Pheo's father would stop, crouch slightly, and gesture toward something on the ground.
"See that?" he said at one point, pointing to a faint line present into the dirt. "Tracks. Small ones. Rabbit, probably. You want to follow them quiet–"
"I know," Pheo replied before he could finish.
His father blinked.
Pheo crouched beside the track, brushing away a bit of loose soil. "It's fresh," he added. "Probably passed through not long ago."
His father gave a slow nod. "Right… well, good eye."
They moved deeper into the woods, but the pattern kept repeating. Whenever his father started explaining something, how to move quietly through the brush, where animals tended to drink, how to position yourself downwind, Pheo already seemed to know.
Sometimes he even corrected him.
"No, if we circle around that way," Pheo said once, pointing past a cluster of trees, "we'll cut it off before it reaches the stream."
His father raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
A few minutes later, a startled rabbit burst from the undergrowth exactly where Pheo had predicted.
The sling snapped through the air with a sharp whip.
The stone struck cleanly.
His father stared for a moment before letting out a low whistle.
"Well," he said, walking over to pick it up "guess that works."
By the time the sun had shifted lower in the sky, they were heading back toward the house. Pheo carried several small animals tied together with cord, while his father ha da couple slung over his shoulder.
It was a decent haul.
As they approached the clearing, Pheo glanced at what they had and gave a small shrug. "We probably would've had more," he said. "If I didn't spend time making the sling."
His father laughed under his breath. "More?" he repeated. "Kid, this is already the most we've brought back together."
Pheo looked down at the sling in his hand, turning it slightly.
After a moment, his father spoke again, curiosity creeping into his voice.
"Where'd you learn to use that thing anyway?"
Pheo looked up.
His father nodded toward the sling. "I've never seen you use one before. Not once. And those tricks you were pulling out there?" He shook his head. "Should've been your first time hunting like that."
Pheo frowned slightly.
"I learned when I was living by myself," he said.
For a second, his father just stared at him.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Living by yourself?" he said between chuckles. "Pheo, you've always lived with us."
Pheo's brows knit together.
"No," he said slowly. "I'm pretty sure I–"
The sentence cut off.
He suddenly grabbed his head, wincing as a dull ache spread through his temples. It wasn't sharp, but it pulsed in a way that made it hard to think.
His father's laughter faded almost immediately. "Hey," he said, stepping closer. "You alright?"
Pheo nodded faintly, though his expression remained tense. "Yeah… just–" He rubbed his temple. "Just a headache."
His father studied him for another moment before shrugging. "Well," he said casually, trying to lighten the mood again, "maybe you picked it up from one of those old books lying around."
Pheo didn't answer right away.
He looked down at the sling in his hand, the cords hanging loosely from his fingers.
For some reason, the explanation didn't feel right.
By the time they returned to the house, the light outside had begun to soften. Pheo's father pushed the door open first, stepping inside with the day's catch slung over his shoulder.
"We're back," he called casually.
Pheo followed behind him, still rubbing his temple faintly. The ache hadn't disappeared, it lingered like a dull pressure at the back of his head.
His mother immediately turned from the counter when she saw them. Her eyes quickly landed on Pheo.
"What happened?" she asked, concern slipping into her voice.
Pheo barely had time to respond before his father answered for him.
"Nothing serious," he said, setting the haul down. "Kid just got a headache out there."
"A headache?" she repeated, walking closer.
"He started talking funny too," his father added with a small shrug. "Said something about living by himself."
Pheo lowered himself into one of the chairs near the table, letting his elbows rest against his knees while the conversation continued above him.
"I did–"
He started, but the words trailed off as the ache in his head pulsed again.
His mother frowned slightly, glancing between the two of them. "You probably pushed yourself too hard," she said gently. "That's a lot to carry for your first proper hunt."
While they talked, Pheo's eyes drifted across the room.
And stopped.
The door.
It was still there, but now it looked different.
Earlier it had been worn, aged in a way that didn't match the rest of the house.
Now it looked normal, as if it belonged there.
Pheo stared at it for a few seconds before speaking.
"Mom… that door–"
His mother cut him off immediately.
"You need to rest."
Her voice wasn't harsh, but it carried a firmness that stopped him mid-sentence.
She glanced down at the pile of animals they had brought back and shook her head slightly.
"No wonder you're like this," she said. "You probably overexerted yourself during the hunt."
She moved toward the kitchen area, already gathering a few things. "I'll make some soup," she continued. "Something warm will help with the headache."
Then she pointed lightly toward the chair he was sitting in. "After you eat, you're going straight to bed."
Pheo didn't argue.
Instead, his gaze drifted back toward the strange door again.
Behind him, his mother had turned toward his father, her tone shifting slightly. "What exactly happened out there?" she asked him.
His father scratched the back of his head. "I told you," he said. "Nothing much. He hunted fine all day. Better than fine, actually."
"That doesn't explain the headache."
"I don't know," he replied honestly. "He was doing great one moment, then started saying strange things."
There was a short pause.
His mother sighed quietly.
"Alright," she said at last. "I'll prepare something for him tomorrow. Maybe that'll help."
She turned back to the stove, already beginning to work.
His mother soon returned with a bowl, steam rising gently from its surface. She placed it in front of Pheo and told him to drink it while it was still warm. The smell alone felt comforting, simple and familiar in a way he couldn't quite explain.
He lifted the bowl and took a careful dip. Warmth spread through him immediately. It traveled from his throat down into his chest, slowly easing the tight pressure in his head. The ache didn't vanish completely, but it dulled, the tension loosening just enough for him to breathe easier.
"See?" his mother said softly. "You just needed something warm." She watched him finish the bowl before placing a hand on his shoulder. "Alright. Upstairs," she said. "You need to sleep."
Pheo didn't resist. The exhaustion that had been building in the background now pressed heavily against him. He stood and slowly made his way up the stairs, his mother following a step behind to make sure he actually went to bed.
When he reached the room, the sat down on the edge of it for a moment.
Then a thought surfaced.
"Mom," he said quietly.
She paused near the doorway. "Yes?"
"Do you remember the lullaby you used to sing?"
Her expression softened immediately.
"Of course I do," she said with a small smile. "You used to ask for it every night when you were little."
Pheo looked down at his hands, a faint smile forming on his face as well.
He remembered.
The melody had stayed with him long after everything else fell apart. Her voice had always been soft when she sang it. Clear and gentle in a way that felt almost unreal, like something meant to calm storms.
"Can you sing it again?" he asked.
He hesitated before adding quietly, "I miss hearing it."
The comment made his mother pause. She tilted her head slightly, confused for a moment. "You hear my voice every day," she said. But when she looked at him again, really looked, she sighed softly.
"Well… I supposed I can spoil you this once," she said. "You are sick, after all."
She sat beside him and began to sing.
Her voice filled the room gently, smooth and light, the melody flowing through the quiet space like it had years ago. It was exactly the same. Every note, every rise and fall of the tune.
As he listened, memories began to surface.
Small ones.
His mother humming while working around the house.
Her singing softly while he tried to sleep.
Evenings where the three of them sat together without a single worry beyond tomorrow's chores.
For a moment, he simply let himself exist inside those memories.
But then a thought slipped through his mind.
Wasn't she supposed to be encased in ice?
His brow furrowed faintly as the thought tried to grow, but the lullaby continued, soft and steady.
The warmth of the soup lingered in his chest.
The bed beneath him felt heavier with every passing second.
Before he could follow the thought any further, his eyes closed, slipping himself into sleep while his mother's voice continued singing beside him.
Sleep did not take him gently.
One moment there was warmth, the fading echo of his mother's lullaby, the softness of the bed beneath him.
The next moment–
Stone.
Cold, damp stone.
Pheo opened his eyes to darkness.
Not the quiet darkness of night, but the suffocating kind that pressed in from every direction. The air smelled of dust and wet earth, and the ceiling above him curved low, uneven, like the inside of a narrow tunnel carved deep underground.
It felt familiar. And yet at the same time, something about it felt wrong, like a memory he couldn't fully recognize.
He shifted slightly.
Something heavy rested in his hand.
He looked down to see a pickaxe.
The handle was worn smooth from use, the metal head chipped and dull along the edges. It sat awkwardly in his grip, and when he looked closer, a strange realization crept into his mind.
His hand was smaller.
The fingers were shorter, thinner, the skin softer than he remembered.
Slowly, he lifted the hand closer to his face, confusion beginning to settle in.
This… isn't right.
A creeping thought formed.
He wasn't just in a different place.
He was younger, much younger. Below ten, if he had to guess.
Before he could continue making sense of it, a sound tore through the tunnel ahead.
A shriek.
Pheo immediately clamped his hands over his ears.
The noise was unbearable. Sharp, piercing, vibrating through the stone walls like metal grinding against metal. It sounded almost alive, a twisted screech that scraped against his skull.
But it wasn't quite a scream. There was something metallic about it, like rusted gears shrieking under strain.
The noise grew louder.
Closer.
Then the ground began to shake.
Pheo looked up just in time to see something moving through the darkness ahead.
Something massive.
A shape burst into view, sprinting down the tunnel straight toward him. The creature was so large it nearly filled the entire passage, its body scraping against the walls as it charged forward like a living avalanche.
He couldn't even fully comprehend what he was seeing.
Its surface looked jagged and uneven, parts of it reflecting faint glints of dull metal. Its head twisted unnaturally as it rushed forward, revealing rows of warped, metallic teeth grinding against each other with every movement.
The screeching noise came from it.
The creature lunged.
For a split second, all Pheo could see were those twisting metal jaws opening wide.
And then–
He jolted upright.
The cave was gone.
The tunnel, the creature, the screaming metal–
All of it vanished.
Pheo sat upright in bed, his breath uneven as the last image of those jagged metal teeth lingered in his mind.