The day after the cliff incident, Lethra felt… off.
Not broken.
Not dangerous.
Just tilted — like the world was leaning slightly too far in one direction and hadn't corrected itself yet.
Even the birds sounded unsure. Their chirps came slower, hesitant, like they were gossiping about the ocean shimmer and didn't want to say it too loud.
Dioka and Guakulia didn't talk about it.
They didn't need to.
The silence between them was heavy, packed with unasked questions and shared memories they weren't ready to name.
Instead, they headed toward the town square.
Inspection day.
Traveling traders. Passing teachers. Strangers who stopped in Lethra just long enough to remind the town that the world outside still existed.
Usually boring.
Today?
Not even close.
---
The Man at the Well
Guakulia spotted him first.
"Yo… Dioka. Look."
Near the old stone well stood a man neither of them recognized.
Not a trader.
Not a local.
Not even a wanderer passing through.
He was just… standing.
Long grey coat. Hood down. Messy black hair. A face that looked tired — not exhausted, just patiently worn, like someone who'd been awake longer than most people.
But it was his eyes that messed with them.
They weren't sharp.
They weren't threatening.
They were quiet.
Quiet like someone who had already seen the ending and wasn't impressed.
"I don't like him," Guakulia muttered.
"You don't like anyone quiet," Dioka said.
"No. I don't like ominous quiet."
They approached casually — Dioka, at least.
Guakulia walked like he was entering a boss arena with no save point.
The man turned his head slightly.
Like he'd been waiting.
"You two," he said softly. "You were near the north cliffs yesterday."
Both boys froze — just for half a heartbeat.
Dioka recovered first. "How would you know that?"
The man didn't smile. Didn't blink.
"There are ripples forming across this land," he said calmly. "Some people feel them."
His eyes shifted between them.
"Others attract them."
Guakulia leaned closer and whispered, "Bro… he's talking like a prophecy NPC."
The man's left eye twitched — not irritated.
Amused.
"I don't mean to frighten you," he continued. "But you should stay away from the water for a while."
Dioka frowned. "Why?"
"Because the water is listening."
That was it. No buildup. No explanation.
He turned away, took three steps toward a narrow alley—
—and disappeared.
No flash.
No smoke.
No sound.
One moment he was there.
The next, reality acted like he never existed.
Guakulia blinked hard. Then again.
"…Yo.
YO.
Did this man just un-render himself?"
Dioka's heart was pounding. "I didn't hear footsteps. I didn't hear anything."
They stared at the alley.
Guakulia, of course, stepped forward.
"Bro, don't," Dioka hissed.
"If some mysterious anime-eyed dude tells me the water is listening, I'm not sleeping until I know who he is."
The alley was empty.
Not just vacant — erased.
No footprints.
No lingering presence.
No feeling of after.
Like the world itself wiped the area clean.
---
A Pattern They Can't Ignore
They walked home quieter than usual.
Not scared.
Not panicking.
Just… aware.
The whisper Dioka heard.
The silhouette Guakulia saw.
The ocean pausing.
And now this man.
Four strange events.
Three days.
That wasn't coincidence.
That was a pattern forming.
Guakulia finally broke the silence. "Bro… you think we're in the middle of something?"
Dioka took a moment before answering.
"No," he said quietly. "I think something is trying to pull us toward the middle."
Guakulia stopped walking. "Do you want that?"
Dioka looked up.
The clouds were drifting slower than they should — like the sky itself was hesitating.
"…No," he admitted.
"But I don't think we get a choice."
The wind shifted. Gentle. Cold in a way it shouldn't be.
And for the first time—
Both boys felt it.
The world wasn't reacting to them anymore.
It was waiting.