Chapter 2:
The room felt bigger than usual.
Ari stood in the middle of it, her toes curled against the cool marble floor, staring at the tall figure who had just appeared as if from nowhere. Her green eyes blinked slowly, once, twice, trying to understand him.
He was nothing like the people she remembered drifting through the halls of this house,the maids with their quick steps, her mother with her jingling bracelets, her father with his heavy shoes. This one was stealthily different....
He was taller, much taller, with clothes torn and ragged like he'd been fighting with the sky. His skin was pale but wasn't pale like hers. It was something else, almost grey, as if the light didn't quite know how to touch him. From his head curved two black horns, heavy and strange, and when he moved even a little, the shadows bent around him like they wanted to stay close.
And his eyes…
They glowed red. Not like fire, not like the little lamp she sometimes left on when she was scared of the dark. They glowed like they could see every secret she had ever whispered to her dolls.
Ari should have screamed. That's what most people did in stories when monsters appeared,But her throat stayed quiet. Instead, she hugged the sleeves of her oversized nightgown and tilted her head the way she did when she was curious about something.
"...You're not the mailman," she whispered.
The man's eyes narrowed, a faint crease forming between his brows. His voice came deep and low, like the sound of stones shifting under the earth. "No. I'm not."
Ari nodded slowly. Her curls bounced around her face, pink like cotton candy.
She squinted at him for a long moment. "Are you a.....clown?"
The man blinked at her. He did not move, but the air around him seemed to tighten, colder somehow. "No."
"Oh." She tapped her chin with one finger. "Then… a monster?"
Something flickered across his sharp face. His jaw tightened, the red in his eyes deepening. His voice was clipped when he answered. "Not exactly."
Ari rocked back on her heels, chewing her lip. Monsters, she thought, were supposed to roar and bite, or at least chase you. But this one just… stood there. Still, watchful, like a statue that had gotten lost and wandered inside her house.
Slowly, she slid off the couch where she'd been curled up, her small feet padding softly across the floor. The nightgown dragged behind her like a little cape. The closer she got, the bigger he seemed, towering over her like one of the huge doors in the hallway.
He didn't stop her. His crimson eyes followed her with every step she took.
Ari craned her neck back until it hurt, squinting up at the strange horns curving above his head. Before she thought better of it,though she rarely thought before doing things anyway she stretched onto her tiptoes and reached up with both of her hands.
Her small fingers brushed against the base of one horn.
It was warm.
Ari gasped softly. She pressed her palm against it, tapping once like she was testing glass. "It's not sharp," she whispered, surprised. A little giggle slipped out of her. "I thought it would be sharp."
The man froze. His body went rigid, like he was holding his breath. No human child had ever touched him like that. Not even dared. He wasn't sure if he should shove her away or vanish into the shadows again.
"You shouldn't touch me," he said finally, his voice rougher than before.
Ari's big green eyes blinked up at him, puzzled. "Why?"
His lips pressed into a hard line. He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped back just enough that her small hand fell away from his horn. He folded his arms across his chest, like a shield. The movement made Ari frown. She hugged her arms across her own chest, mirroring him without realizing.
"You're not scary," she said suddenly. Her tone was firm, as if she was declaring it to the whole empty house. "You look… tired."
The words hit him harder than they should have. Tired. He was tired of wandering through the in-between, tired of endless commands, tired of carrying the weight of his name. Yet no one had ever said it so simply.
He stared at her for a long time before speaking. "Why are you alone here?"
Ari's small face scrunched up. The question was too big, and her little mind didn't quite know how to carry it. She kicked her toes against the floor before mumbling, "Everyone went away."
Her voice was soft, almost careless, as if she were explaining where one of her dolls had disappeared to. "It's just me now."
The way she said it made something sharp twist in his chest.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the creak of the house and Ari's little sniffles. Then, as if the quiet itself tickled her, her stomach growled loudly.
Ari slapped her hands over her belly and laughed nervously. "I ate ice earlier," she admitted. "It's crunchy. But now my teeth hurt."
Ace's—yes, Ace, though she didn't know his name yet—eyes narrowed. "Ice isn't food."
Her laughter stopped. She blinked at him, mouth hanging open. "It's not?"
"No," he said, voice firm, the kind that left no room for argument. "Children shouldn't eat ice."
Her lips puckered into a pout. "Oh…" She stared down at her toes, almost guilty. Then she tilted her head up again, her voice small and serious. "Then what do kids eat?"
The question was so innocent, so heavy, that it pulled him silent. He didn't know why he stayed there in the dusty living room, watching a girl who should have screamed, who should have run. Maybe it was her eyes. Maybe it was the way she looked at him like he was just a stranger who had knocked on her door instead of something darker, something older.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Ace felt something stir in his chest. Something strange. Something he didn't want to name.
Maybe, just maybe… he wasn't supposed to leave....