Somewhere far away, a figure watched him.
It stood still—featureless, cloaked in a veil of pale shadow. Not threatening. Not familiar. Just there.
He blinked, and it vanished.
He jolted upright, heart pounding, scanning the dark expanse around him. A whisper of movement brushed behind him. He tried to turn, but his body wouldn't move—locked in place like stone.
And then… it was there again.
Right behind him.
Its voice flowed like calm water over ancient stone—gentle, but impossibly vast.
"Embrace the darkness and light together… but do not let chaos enter."
And then, the world faded to white.
—
He opened his eyes. Blinding light seared his vision. Shapes moved above him—blurry, shifting, then sharpening into familiar faces.
His family. Hovering. Worry etched deep into every expression.
He was back in his room.
The voice still echoed faintly in his head. The presence lingered, quiet but unmistakable. But it wasn't the horned figure. It wasn't the girl with chains. And it wasn't the cold whisper that haunted his dreams.
This was something else.
Something nameless.
James sat beside him, his hand gently resting on the boy's arm. "Angelo… can you hear me?"
He parted his lips. "I'm fine—"
But the voice that emerged wasn't his.
It was deeper. Smooth. Almost melodic. Every word carried a subtle echo, like it was being spoken from a place just beyond the veil of reality.
His mother covered her mouth with trembling fingers.
James flinched slightly, his brows drawing together. Not fear. Not disgust. Just… uncertainty.
Alex stood behind them, pale, his eyes darting between Angelo and the floor like he didn't know where to look.
Angelo's own expression twisted. "What?" he asked again, his voice still not his own.
Alex, silent, walked over and handed him a mirror.
Angelo hesitated before lifting it. What stared back wasn't unfamiliar—but it wasn't him.
His once-black irises shimmered like molten silver. His face looked sharper—more defined. There was a strange elegance to it, a quiet power.
But it felt hollow.
Empty.
Too calm to be real.
His hands trembled slightly as he lowered the mirror.
"Who is this…?" he whispered. "This isn't me…"
Silence.
His mother's eyes were filled with tears. James stood there like he wanted to say something, but didn't know how. Even Alex—usually the one to crack a joke—just stared at the floor, fists clenched at his sides.
"I… I need some time alone," Angelo said quietly.
They hesitated. Then James gave a small nod. "Alright. We'll be just outside."
His voice was soft, steady. Like he was trying to be strong for all of them.
Alex lingered in the doorway for a moment. He glanced back, eyes uncertain. "Hey… you're still you. Okay? Just… remember that."
Then he left, gently closing the door behind him.
And Angelo sat in silence.
Staring at the wall.
Listening to the quiet. The steady thrum in his chest. The mark on his back felt warm, pulsing again like a second heartbeat.
Something had changed.
Something had awakened.
And deep inside…
He knew it wasn't going back to sleep.