Night fell slowly, like the world was hesitant to let go of the day.
The house lights glowed softly, casting long shadows across the walls. Mika had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up beneath a blanket, her sketchbook clutched tightly to her chest. Ari sat on the floor nearby, pretending to read but watching the hallway instead.
Kael hadn't moved from the window.
He stood there silently, staring out into the darkness, his reflection faint against the glass. Every few seconds, his eyes shifted—not randomly, but deliberately—tracking invisible points around the neighborhood.
Ari finally spoke.
"You're not really watching the street, are you?"
Kael didn't turn.
"No."
"What are you watching?"
"The space between things," Kael replied quietly.
Ari frowned. "That doesn't make sense."
Kael finally turned, leaning against the wall. His expression wasn't severe—it was thoughtful, heavy with memories.
"When rifts begin to open," he said, "the world thins. Most people don't notice. But hunters do. And so do Echoes."
Ari swallowed.
"And us?"
Kael hesitated.
"Sometimes," he admitted.
The word settled uneasily in Ari's chest.
The house creaked softly as it cooled. Pipes ticked. The fridge hummed. Ordinary sounds—but Ari couldn't shake the feeling that something was listening.
"Kael," he said quietly, "you said you were a hunter."
"Yes."
"What does that actually mean?"
Kael walked toward the couch, lowering his voice so he wouldn't wake Mika.
"It means," he said slowly, "that when something breaks the rules of this world… I fix it."
Ari stared.
"Alone?"
Kael smiled faintly. "I used to have a team."
Ari caught the tension immediately.
"Used to?"
Kael didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked down at Mika, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.
"Being a hunter isn't about strength," he said quietly. "It's about sacrifice. And eventually… everyone pays."
Ari's throat tightened.
"Did they die?"
Kael closed his eyes.
"Yes."
Silence filled the room.
Outside, a car passed. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked once and then went quiet.
Ari shifted closer.
"Is that why you quit?"
Kael opened his eyes.
"No," he said. "I didn't quit."
He straightened slowly.
"I ran."
The honesty hit harder than anything else.
Ari blinked.
"You ran?"
"Yes." Kael's voice was calm, but his hands clenched slightly. "From the Abyss. From the people who controlled it. From what they wanted me to become."
Ari felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"The fox creature said something about the Abyss…"
Kael nodded.
"It's not a place," he said. "It's a state of existence. A realm where broken things gather. Where discarded gods rot. Where hunters who fail… don't die."
Ari stared at him.
"What happens to them?"
"They change."
The word echoed ominously.
A sudden tap echoed against the window.
Ari flinched violently.
Kael's head snapped up.
Another tap.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Kael raised a hand—stay still—and approached the window silently. He peeled the curtain back just enough to look outside.
Nothing.
No one.
Just the streetlamp humming softly.
Kael exhaled slowly, but Ari noticed the tension didn't leave his shoulders.
"It's testing boundaries," Kael muttered.
Ari whispered, "What is?"
Kael turned.
"The rift."
At that exact moment, Mika stirred.
"Kael…" she murmured sleepily. "The shadows are loud."
Kael was beside her instantly.
"They're not coming in," he said gently. "You're safe."
Mika opened her eyes just enough to look at him.
"Promise?"
Kael hesitated—just for a fraction of a second.
"I promise," he said.
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then stabilized.
Ari felt it again—the pressure. Stronger this time. Like gravity tightening around his chest.
"Kael," Ari whispered. "It's happening again."
Kael's eyes sharpened.
"Where do you feel it?"
"In the walls," Ari said. "Like… the house is holding its breath."
Kael cursed softly under his breath.
He moved fast—checking windows, doors, symbols etched faintly along the doorframes that Ari had never noticed before. Protective wards.
"How long have those been there?" Ari asked.
Kael didn't stop moving.
"Since the day I moved in."
Ari's chest tightened.
"So you always knew this could happen."
"Yes."
"And you still married Mom?"
Kael stopped.
He turned slowly, meeting Ari's eyes.
"I married her because I wanted to be human again," he said. "And because I believed I could keep this world away from you."
A distant groan rolled through the air—not thunder, not wind. Something deeper.
The walls vibrated.
Mika whimpered, clutching Kael's sleeve.
Kael dropped to one knee.
"Ari," he said firmly. "If I tell you to take Mika and hide, you do it. No questions."
Ari shook his head.
"No."
Kael's gaze sharpened.
"Ari—"
"I won't leave you," Ari said. His voice shook, but he didn't look away. "You're family."
For a moment, Kael looked stunned.
Then something in his expression softened—painful, proud, terrified.
"Then listen carefully," Kael said. "Because tonight… you're going to learn the truth."
The temperature dropped sharply.
The shadows in the corners of the room stretched unnaturally long.
Kael stood.
"The rift isn't opening near us," he said quietly.
Ari's blood ran cold.
"It's opening here."
The house creaked violently.
The air tore.
And somewhere beyond the walls, something ancient turned its attention toward them.