second, but he gripped it firmly once more. The city lights reflected off the windshield as the car glided smoothly.
He does not know yet...
But he has begun to feel.
And feeling, sometimes, is more dangerous than knowing.
Arin's House – Night creeps into every corner
Darkness had claimed the room, a stillness broken only by ragged breaths and muffled moans. On the bed that seemed too narrow for the weight of his agony, Arin lay with closed eyes. His forehead glistened with beads of sweat, trickling down like ink writing his pain upon his skin. His body temperature surged as if hidden fires were igniting deep within him. He had finally taken a painkiller, but its effect was not enough to extinguish what was burning inside.
Memories drifted in like thick smoke, then morphed into a dream...
A childish laugh echoed in the void—delicate, warm, tinged with innocence.
Child Arin: "Brother... Brother Aiden, shall we play hide and seek?"
Aiden (laughing, his voice like an embrace): "Hmm, of course! Let's play. I'll hide, and you find me, okay?"
The scene shifted abruptly...
Everything around him had inverted. The ground was no longer carpeted with flowers, nor did the sky laugh with its sun. The house... the childhood home... had become a mere skeleton consumed by darkness. The walls were eroded, and the windows groaned against the whistling wind. No light remained except for one narrow, glowing spot where a small version of Arin stood alone, wrapped in anxiety, calling out in a trembling voice:
Child Arin (terrified): "Aiden? Aiden... where are you? Don't leave me alone..."
But no one answered.
The silence was as harsh as a slap, and the darkness began to slowly swallow that lit spot. Suddenly, he found himself as he is now—but shackled in chains. The irons wrapped around his wrists and ankles, freezing him in place. As for his voice, it had vanished completely, as if the dream had robbed him of the ability to scream.
And before his eyes... Aiden appeared. But he wasn't as he remembered him; he wasn't the brother he knew. Instead, he was swallowing the darkness. Yes, the darkness itself surrounded him, seeping into his mouth and eyes until he became a mere shadow without features. He was consuming the void, literally, as if his very existence was fading away.
Arin (internally, struggling): "No... no... wake up... wake up..."
His breath quickened, his body contorted, and his mind fought to wrench him from that horrific nightmare. His heart hammered against his chest as if trying to shatter the ribs and escape.
At that moment, Aiden's car stopped in front of the dark house, like the silence before a storm. The mother pushed the door open with force, her heart racing ahead of her with anxious steps, her eyes searching for a glimmer of reassurance amidst the tangled shadows in her mind. She hurried out as if the ground were burning beneath her feet, rushing toward the house door with a mix of fear and plea.
She reached out to knock... but stopped. Her grip slowly loosened.
The door was unlocked.
She grasped the cold handle and turned it with a shiver, stepping inside with hurried paces, her heart nearly leaping from her chest.
The house was silent. Dim. Her rapid breathing was the only thing breaking the hush. She climbed the wooden stairs as if something hidden were guiding her—an unseen but felt force: a mother's instinct.
She opened Arin's door slowly, and a faint light spilled in from the hallway. She ran to him. She knelt by his side, reaching out to touch his forehead.
Behind her, Aiden was ascending the stairs with measured steps, as if gauging every moment with precision, trying to prevent another collapse.
When the mother touched him, his features froze for a moment. Then, he began to move slowly, like someone being pulled from a heavy nightmare, from the depths of a dream distorted by immense pain. He opened his eyes gradually; his vision was blurred as if the light stung him.
He spoke in a hoarse voice, barely audible:
"Mother... how... how did you get here?"
At that moment, Aiden appeared behind her, standing in silence.
The mother stood there, silent, looking at Arin as if she were seeing a shadow of her son, not his true self. Her eyes were choked with many words, but she didn't speak. Words stuck in her throat, heavy as embers, unable to come out. Her gaze carried everything: fear, pain, regret, and even reproach—but she said nothing. No reproach now. Only a mother seeing the wreckage of her son... and not knowing where to begin gathering the pieces.
Arin sat silently, his head bowed, hands on his knees, while the gazes of his mother and Aiden crossed over him like invisible knives. But he did not look at them directly... he was somewhere else.
Inside him, he was not in this room.
He was standing in the middle of a cracked chessboard. The ground beneath his feet was made of squares the color of a clear blue sky with light clouds—and dark bloodstains. The squares were shattered, as if the earth were collapsing piece by piece. The pawns were scattered, some smashed, others with broken necks—symbols of those who had departed because of him or for him. The Queen—representing hope, strength, and protection—lay on her side, her head broken. The King stood, but he was fragile... a hollow stone, nearly toppled by the wind.
No sound, only the echo of silence.
Then, his gaze shifted to Aiden.
Aiden was steady, but his eyes were not. Those eyes carried something... something Arin recognized. Something that could not be said. A secret still hanging in the air between them.
There was something...
Between the three of them... a secret yet to be revealed.
But it is alive. It breathes. It stands in the corner, watching in silence.