I still remember the smell of popcorn.
It was one of those late nights where everything felt normal. The kind of night you think back on and wonder if the world was warning you. But it wasn't. It was just quiet.
Dad cracked jokes the whole movie. Mom kept humming like she always did. I think I was still laughing about something he said when we cut through the alley behind the theater.
That shortcut saved us time. Not this time.
The guy stepped out from the shadows. Hoodie. Gun already drawn. No hesitation. No words I could remember. Just two flashes.
Pop. Pop.
Mom crumpled first. Like someone pulled the string out of her. Dad tried to shield me. He didn't make it.
I didn't move. Didn't scream. Just dropped to my knees. Stared at the blood pooling around their bodies. My hands shaking. My chest tight. The world too loud and too quiet at the same time.
The man looked right at me before he ran. Like I was nothing.
Police came. Took me away. Said it was a robbery. Said it was random.
But I knew better.
That guy didn't want money. He wanted to watch something die.
After that, everything stopped mattering. School was noise. Foster homes were just rooms with new rules. People tried to help, but I couldn't hear them. Couldn't see anything but red.
By the time I turned seventeen, I'd made up my mind. I signed the enlistment papers the next day. No goodbye. No future. Just a signature and silence.
The Army didn't care who I was. They just taught me how to move, how to fight, how to follow. And that's what I needed. I didn't want choices. I wanted orders. I wanted purpose.
I found it in routine. Early runs, late patrols. Shooting drills and blackout nights. I got good. They noticed.
They started putting me on recon. Night operations. In and out without a sound. I didn't mind. I liked the dark. I liked being alone in it.
Then came Myanmar.
We were tracking a lead—some old ruins said to be used by smugglers. Jungle was thick. Hot. Wet like it was trying to drown us. Nothing about it felt right.
I slipped off from the group while they mapped the perimeter. Something was pulling at me. Not loud. Just… steady.
That's when I found it.
Half-buried under moss and dirt. A small jade cocoon. Looked like it had been carved by hand, but old. Real old. It pulsed when I touched it—just faint, like a heartbeat.
I picked it up. Didn't say anything to the others. Just pocketed it. Felt cold, then warm, then cold again.
I should've left it.
We were ambushed the next day. IED blew out the lead vehicle. Gunfire from the tree line. I hit the dirt. Everything was fire and smoke and screaming.
Then something tore through the side of the truck. I felt it hit me.
Chest. Ribs. Spine. I couldn't breathe.
I remember laying there, staring up at the trees, thinking, so this is it.
My vision blurred. My fingers were cold. The world tilted sideways. My lungs stopped working.
And then… I felt it.
That cocoon in my pocket—it lit up. Not like a flashlight. Like it was waking up.
Something crawled over my skin. Not insects. Not pain. It was like silk, wrapping around my wounds. Holding me together. Stitching me up.
Then the moths came.
Not real ones. Not like anything I'd ever seen. They weren't there, not really. But I saw them. Floating around me. Gentle. Silent. Watching.
When I came to, I was in a med tent. Doctors said I was lucky. Said most guys with those injuries don't even make it to surgery.
They didn't know what really happened.
Neither did I.
But I wasn't the same after that. My eyes adjusted to darkness faster. My reflexes were sharper. I could hear things others didn't. Feel when something wasn't right.
And the dreams started. Moths. Eyes in the dark. Whispers in a language I didn't understand but still knew.
I tried to tell someone once. Didn't go well. They marked it as trauma-related. Put me through psych evals. Said I wasn't stable enough to stay in the field.
They discharged me.
Just like that.
Four years of service. Dozens of missions. One freak incident, and I was gone.
But I wasn't angry.
I was alive. And I wasn't done.
That cocoon didn't just save me.
It changed me.
Maybe it chose me.
And now… I have to figure out why